When you have an enemy in your power, deprive him of the means of ever injuring you."
~Napoleon Bonaparte
***
It's been more than a century since Ravenna last saw light. Perhaps a day, or barely hours, but it felt like ages. Mostly, it felt like a silent death she'd lost count.
Days? Weeks? Months? Years?
There's nothing she was more confident about than her execution, embracing her fate wholly for a ruthless death but the knowledge of Alaric being tortured in the name of trials and experiments haunted her still. While she lay curled like a ball in dirt and smell, she wondered how he was.
Was he in pain? Tortured? Mutilated? A force of dread washed through her when her thought raced further and a lone tear spilled at the corner of her eyes.
She'd lost the strength to cry, move or even speak. Every second that passed was more strenuous than death itself, and when minutes then days, she stopped counting.
