Then I remembered the way the noble had intervened. Other uses… what could he mean? He had smiled, that predator's smile, as if he already knew exactly how to manipulate me. That thought made my stomach twist. I didn't trust him, but I couldn't ignore him either. Right now, my only option was to live another day.
I pressed my hands to the floor, trying to push myself up. The chains clinked painfully, but I ignored the sharp sting. I had to move, had to think. I couldn't just sit here and wait for the inevitable.
Hours passed—or maybe minutes. Time had lost meaning in this prison. Every sound, every echo, was amplified: the distant footsteps, the scraping of metal, the low murmur of voices beyond the walls. The air was damp, carrying a faint scent of rot and mildew that made me gag. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to focus on anything that would keep my mind sharp.
Then the footsteps came closer.
My heart leapt. I pressed myself into the corner of the cell, trying to make myself smaller, invisible. The key turned in the lock, and the door creaked open.
A guard stepped inside. He was younger than I expected, maybe barely twenty, with a hardened expression that hadn't yet been softened by age or understanding.
"Lysandra," he said, his voice low. "You're… you're being moved."
Moved? My pulse quickened. Why? I tried to force the fear from my face, but I couldn't hide the trembling of my hands.
"Where… where are we going?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Just… the platform again," he replied. He hesitated, almost as if he wasn't supposed to be telling me anything. "The noble… he's… he wants to see you first. You'll understand later."
I wanted to scream. To demand answers. But there was no time. I had to act like I was compliant. I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.
The chains clinked as he helped me to my feet. Every step I took made the pain in my wrists sharper, but I gritted my teeth and kept moving. My head spun, my stomach twisted, but I refused to collapse. I couldn't afford to be weak. Not now.
The walk to the execution square felt longer than the first time. The air outside was crisp, but it did nothing to calm my racing heart. The crowd was gathered again, voices shouting, torches flaring. I could feel their hatred pressing down on me, as if it could push me to my knees.
I gritted my teeth and forced myself to lift my head. I refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing fear.
As we approached the platform, I saw the executioner waiting again, axe in hand. His hood hid his face, but I didn't need to see his expression to know that he was eager. My stomach churned violently.
Then the noble appeared. He walked down the steps toward the platform, his robe shimmering, eyes glinting with something I couldn't yet name—malice? amusement? Both? He stopped a few feet away, his gaze locked on me.
"Lysandra," he said smoothly, his voice carrying across the square, "you are… fortunate to have been spared, for now."
I forced my jaw to stay firm. "Why me?" I asked. My voice trembled despite my effort. "Why not execute me if you're so powerful?"
He smiled, that same predator's smile. "Power isn't just about ending lives. It's about using them. You have… potential, more than you know. You may yet serve a purpose greater than death."
The words chilled me. Purpose? My mind raced. I didn't want to serve anyone. I wanted to survive, nothing else.
The noble gestured to the executioner. "Prepare her for… demonstration."
My blood ran cold. Demonstration? I swallowed hard, trying to steady myself. My mind darted, searching for a plan, any plan. I had nothing—no weapons, no allies, no skills except my wits. And even those were untested in this brutal world.
The executioner stepped forward, axe raised. My hands shook violently. I could feel every eye in the square on me, their hatred and expectation like fire licking my skin. My body screamed to run, to escape, to vanish. But there was nowhere to go.
Then, a voice shouted from the crowd: "Wait!"
I froze. The crowd faltered, murmurs rippling through them. A figure pushed forward—a young man, barely older than a boy, but with an authority I couldn't explain. He carried a small, metal device that clicked and whirred strangely.
The executioner hesitated, his axe still raised. Even the noble's smile faltered, curiosity flashing in his eyes.
"What is this?" the noble demanded.
The young man didn't answer immediately. Instead, he pressed a button on the device. A bright flash erupted, momentarily blinding everyone. I stumbled backward, shielding my eyes. When I looked up again, chaos had erupted. Smoke billowed across the platform. The crowd screamed, panic spreading like wildfire.
In the confusion, the guards were distracted. I felt my body tense. This is it.
I yanked at the chains with all my strength. Pain lanced through my wrists, but the iron gave slightly. Encouraged, I pulled harder. One link bent, then another. I could feel the possibility of freedom, however small, igniting hope inside me.
The young man shouted, "Now!"
I acted instinctively. With a surge of strength I didn't know I had, I threw myself toward the edge of the platform. Shouts and curses exploded behind me. Torches wavered as people scrambled in panic. I rolled to the side, scraping my palms on the rough wood, and found myself on the cobblestones below.
I didn't stop to look back. My body moved before my mind caught up, adrenaline fueling every step. The crowd was in chaos, the noble shouting orders, but none of it mattered. All that mattered was survival.
I ran through the streets, narrow alleys and stone pathways twisting around me like a maze. My lungs burned, my legs screamed, but I didn't stop. I had escaped death for now, but I knew this world wouldn't forgive me. Not yet. Not ever.