Soraya's POV
The food on the tray had gone cold long before I touched it. I had managed only a few bites, chewing mechanically, without taste or appetite. My body moved because it had to, but my spirit… my spirit was something else entirely, coiled tight and bleeding beneath my skin.
After freshening up, I lowered myself onto the edge of the bed, fingers curling into the sheets as my eyes caught something I hadn't noticed before.
My wrists.
The skin that had been rubbed raw, torn and bloodied by the heavy chains — healed. Smooth. Whole. Not even a scar.
For a long breath, I just stared, dumbfounded. It shouldn't have been possible. I had almost forgotten what I was — forgotten the power that once surged in me, the birthright I carried. The chains had been merciless, biting so deep the wounds had resisted even the natural healing that came with my blood. And yet now… they were gone. Healed, as though the curse of their weight had finally lifted.
Strange. Too strange.
