111:  EXECUTION

The cell was cold, and the air was thick with the damp smell of stone and decay. My body ached from the wounds I had sustained, and the weight of the chains around my wrists reminded me of the precariousness of my situation.

It had been days, perhaps weeks since I had been captured, and every moment had been a battle to stay conscious, to stay strong.

As I lay there, half-awake and half-dreaming, a small noise caught my attention. A slight rustling, almost unnoticeable, came from the narrow slit that served as a window high up in the wall. I strained to focus, and then I saw a small, tightly rolled piece of parchment, barely visible in the dim light, slipping through the opening and landing softly on the floor.

With a surge of energy born from desperation, I reached for it, my fingers trembling as I unfurled the note. It was from Karim. His handwriting was rough, the letters uneven, as if he had written it in haste.

Ava, it began. We've heard that you’re in captivity. We’re planning