Chapter 4

I hit the stone floor hard, a sharp crack reverberating through the empty cell as my shoulder collided with the jagged stone. The pain was distant, barely more than a whisper at the back of my mind. It was as if my body and I had made some unspoken agreement: I wouldn’t feel, and it wouldn’t bother me with the details. The guards didn’t bother chaining me. There was no point. I hadn’t fought back in days—maybe weeks. Time had blurred into a fog, impossible to track in the darkness.

The cell was small, damp, and stifling. The air felt thick, weighted with rot and mildew, the sour smell clinging to my skin and sinking into my lungs. Water dripped steadily from the ceiling somewhere, creating a maddening, rhythmic tapping that echoed endlessly. It was almost comforting in its consistency, a rare thing in a place where chaos and violence reigned.

I lay there, motionless, my cheek pressed against the cold stone. The chill seeped into my bones, but I didn’t shiver. I didn’t move. I simply existed, a hollow shell where a person used to be. My mind drifted, disconnected from the horror of my surroundings. It was easier this way, to float in the emptiness rather than confront the crushing weight of reality.

Beyond the rusted iron bars, the faint glow of distant torchlight flickered in and out, casting long, erratic shadows down the corridor. The guards’ boots had scuffed the floor, leaving streaks of grime and blood behind. Nothing here stayed clean. The dance of light and shadow played across my vision, but I couldn’t bring myself to care about the spectacle. It was all just shades of gray in a world that had lost its color.

Screams echoed from further down the dungeon—drawn-out, hollow cries that rose and fell like the breath of a dying beast. I barely noticed them anymore. They’d become part of the background, like my own shallow breathing. Once, those screams would have torn at my heart, would have driven me to action. Now, they were just noise, meaningless vibrations in the air.

This was the world now, a place where nothing lived and everything suffered. The cell was more than a prison. It was a grave, and I was buried alive inside it. The thought should have terrified me, should have sparked some instinct for survival. Instead, I felt nothing. No fear, no despair, just a vast, echoing emptiness.

I raised my hand, staring at the place where my pinky used to be. The bandage around the stump was filthy, soaked through with blood that had long since dried and cracked. The sharp sting should have been unbearable, but it felt more like a shadow—a reminder of pain rather than the real thing. I should have been horrified. I should have screamed, or cried, or raged. But there was nothing.

The general’s voice echoed in my head. “Silence and stay silent.” The words had wrapped themselves around me, tighter than any chain. I had no voice, no way to fight back. Not unless he allowed it. Even if I wanted to scream, to let out the anguish that should have been tearing me apart, I couldn’t. The silence was absolute, a prison within a prison.

I tried to make a fist, but without my pinky, the movement felt wrong—off-balance. The simple motion reminded me just how broken I was. They’d taken my flesh, but they’d taken more than that. Nate had been the first to go. The last real piece of me had died with him.

My throat tightened, grief threatening to claw its way back up, but I shoved it down where it belonged. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t even whisper. All I had left was the empty, hollow space inside me. It was a void that threatened to consume everything, to swallow what little remained of who I used to be. And part of me welcomed it, longed for the oblivion it promised.

Low murmurs drifted through the corridor, voices of the other prisoners carried on the stale air. It was a pitiful sound, whispers barely rising above the drip of water. There was a hierarchy here, I could already tell, a twisted order built on suffering. The ones who broke first were dragged away to be made examples of. Sometimes they came back—mangled and hollow-eyed—but most never returned.

I wondered, distantly, if I was already broken. If the emptiness inside me was a sign that they had already won. But even that thought couldn’t stir any emotion. It was just another fact in a world that had ceased to make sense.

From across the cell, I saw a flicker of movement. A woman, thin and gaunt, stared at me through the bars of her own cell. Her eyes were sunken deep into her skull, her skin stretched tight over sharp bones. Her lips moved as she whispered something, her voice barely more than a rasp.

I didn’t listen. I didn’t care.

She was looking for something, some comfort, or maybe some hope. But I had none to give. I hadn’t had any since Nate. Hope was a luxury I could no longer afford, a weakness that would only lead to more pain.

I turned my back to her. The weight of her gaze pressed against me, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. I closed my eyes, trying to sink deeper into the numbness that had become my only refuge.

The heavy thud of boots clanging against the stone floor reached me before I saw them. The guards. Their steps were slow, deliberate, as they approached my cell. I kept my eyes on the floor, watching the dark streaks of blood and dirt they’d left in their wake. I didn’t need to see them to know what they wanted.

“Get up, Vila,” one of them said, unlocking the door with a slow, metallic click. His voice was low and filled with contempt. I didn’t move.

He could sneer all he wanted. He could beat me, torture me, do whatever he pleased. It wouldn’t change anything. He couldn’t make me do anything. Only the general could command me. And the general had commanded silence.

I kept my head down as the guard stepped into the cell, his breath hot against the back of my neck. Rough fingers wrapped around my arm, yanking me to my feet. The sudden movement sent a sharp, stinging pain through my hand, where the bandages had come loose. Blood trickled down my wrist, but I barely felt it. It was just another sensation in a world that had lost all meaning.

“Sing, damn you,” the guard growled, shaking me hard enough to make my teeth rattle. “Or we’ll make you wish you had.”

I stared past him, my gaze unfocused. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t sing. The general’s command had locked my voice away. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t scream. All I could do was watch as they pulled me apart, piece by piece. And even that didn’t seem to matter anymore.

The other guard chuckled, a low, gravelly sound that made my skin crawl. “She can’t. The general hasn’t had a session with her yet.”

They shoved me back down, and I hit the floor again, my shoulder slamming into the same jagged stone. I felt the impact this time, but only faintly. It was like feeling pain through a thick blanket – present, but muffled and distant. The door clanged shut behind them, their laughter echoing as they disappeared down the hall.

I curled into myself, pulling my knees to my chest. The cold seeped into my bones, but I didn’t care. I just let the darkness wrap around me like a blanket, drowning out the sounds of the dungeon. In the silence, I was safe. At least here, I didn’t have to pretend to care.

As I lay there, I thought of Nate. Of his smile, his laugh, the warmth of his embrace. But even those memories felt hollow now, like faded photographs of a life that no longer belonged to me. I tried to summon the grief, the rage, anything that might make me feel alive again. But there was nothing. Just the endless, echoing emptiness.

I closed my eyes, letting the darkness take me. Maybe tomorrow would be different. Maybe tomorrow, I’d feel something again. But as I drifted off into a fitful sleep, I knew it was a lie. There was no tomorrow, not really. There was only this – the cold stone, the darkness, and the silence that had become my entire world.