Seraphina's POV
The dungeon air bit into my skin with icy teeth. Three days in this hell had left me hollow-eyed and weak, the magic-suppressing choker around my neck a constant weight that kept my wolf silent. I couldn't feel her anymore—just emptiness where her presence should be.
A soft scraping noise caught my attention. The small hatch on my cell door slid open, followed by the clatter of a metal tray being pushed through. Bland porridge again. At least they weren't starving me.
"Thank you," I croaked, my voice raw from disuse.
Instead of footsteps retreating, I heard a hesitation. Then a whispered voice. "Miss?"
I crawled forward, every muscle screaming in protest. Through the small opening, I saw a young woman's face—the maid who'd been bringing my meals.
"What's your name?" I asked, desperate for human connection.
She glanced nervously over her shoulder. "Cora."
"Cora," I repeated, trying to smile. "Please, I need your help."
Her eyes widened with fear. "I can't—"
