Cold stone leached the heat from Soren's bones, dragging him back to consciousness against his will. His eyelids weighed more than armor as he forced them open, blinking against the dim light of a single guttering torch mounted on the wall outside his cell.
The chains around his wrists had left raw circles of flesh, crusted with dried blood where he had struggled against them during the interrogation.
'You survived,' Valenna whispered, her voice distant as if calling from across a vast chasm. The shard against his chest felt wrong, muted, its customary chill dulled to barely a whisper of cold. 'Their chains... bind more than flesh.'
Soren tried to sit up, every muscle screaming in protest. The stone bench beneath him had all the comfort of a grave marker. His throat burned with thirst, his shoulder wound throbbing in time with his heartbeat. How long had he been unconscious? Hours? Days?
