Lyra’s POV“Get the hell up, Lyra, you have a visitor.”The guard’s voice was a growl, thick with annoyance as he slammed his palm against the iron bars. The sharp clang echoed through the cold, moldy walls of my cell like a death bell.A visitor?I squinted against the weak beam of sunlight filtering through the barred window. In five months—five long, soul-chewing months—not a single soul had come to see me. Not even to spit in my direction.“What? Are you deaf now?” the guard barked, pulling the chains that shackled my wrists to the wall. “Move!”My legs, stiff and sore from days of barely moving, wobbled beneath me. Heavy chains clanked with each step as I shuffled forward, wrists bound, ankles trapped. The guard shoved me hard in the back, nearly sending me to the filthy floor.“I said move!”“I heard you the first time, Shrek,” I muttered, just loud enough for him to catch.He grunted but didn’t respond. Probably used to inmates cracking from being locked away. But I wasn’t crac
Last Updated : 2025-04-22 Read more