ECLIPSE
Imprisonment changed the air.
The seriousness of the entire situation, once diluted under the fear the brides felt was now escalated in the dark, dank, prison holding they were thrown in.
The prison hold beneath Stormrest was carved from ancient stone, its walls slick with condensation and old rot. Torches guttered weakly along the corridor, their light failing to reach the corners where shadows gathered and lingered.
Every thirty minutes, the same Lycan guard arrived.
Massive.
Scarred.
Silent.
He carried a black list in one clawed hand, and a bunch of intricately carved keys in another.
He would unlock a cell.
Call a name.
And escort a bride away.
No explanation.
No reassurances.
And none of the brides returned to tell the tale of what exactly was happening..
Some dissolved into tears before they even crossed the threshold of the prison.
Others screamed and clawed at the bars, swearing they had never even spoken to Liora Ashvale or ever seen her shadow.
