The instructions given to Sora to enable her escape were simple, yet nearly impossible, as they could lead to her death. Swinging her body hard, chains rattling, she slammed against the stone walls shrouded in darkness. Each strike loosened the shackles, inching her closer to the boiling cauldron that bubbled with a sickly potion.
Heat surged against her skin, so intense it melted the chains and almost opened the scars. She fell only for a strange force to pull her midair, yanking her away from the cauldron's rim and hurling her onto the cold, hard ground.
Sora grunted, forcing herself up. She was free. Because of that voice.
"I'm alive," she whispered with a shaky voice, then louder as she turned to the unseen ally. "Hey, we did it!"
No reply. Just silence. Cold, hard silence, the mystery of who or what it belonged to clinging to her. Was it even real to begin with? Maybe it could just be a figment of her imagination.
But she didn't have time to wonder.
