The first sound Kael recognized wasn't his own breathing—muffled, irregular—but the sound of drops.
Plink.
Plink.
Their echo reverberated through the cave, as if each drop were a hammer pounding inside his skull.
He opened his eyes slowly. The light was dim, orange, coming from a torch burning a few meters ahead, fixed to a crevice in the rocky wall. The flames flickered, casting shadows that lengthened and twisted like figures.
Kael tried to stand. The momentum died instantly as the weight of the chains pulled him back.
He was on his knees. His legs were bound, his ankles encased in thick shackles attached to the floor. His arms were stretched out to his sides, chained to hooks fixed to the cave walls. There was no room to move, not even to take a deep breath. Every attempt to move made the chains creak, as if mocking him.
