Eli wasn't thinking anymore.
His head was too full of pain, his body too close to collapse, but more than that—he was empty of ideas. And that was terrifying.
Because usually, he did have ideas.
If there was one thing he could cling to, one thing he could proudly say about himself, it was that he was smart.
Maybe not the strongest, maybe not the fastest—but he could think his way through things when others couldn't.
He could adapt. His mother used to tell him he was gifted, her voice soft and proud in a life that had no room for luxuries.
"If we had money, I'd put you in the best schools… you'd do something great one day, Eli."
But there had been no money. No schools.
Just him, teaching himself, memorizing everything he could get his hands on, and learning how to use it.
And here—here in this godforsaken dungeon—it had been the only reason he'd survived this long. Elione's danger detection worked with his brain like second nature.
