The cell was dim and smelled faintly of damp earth. Iron bars cast long shadows across the stone floor as Irielle leaned against the wall, her wrists bound but her head held high.
Across from her, her father stood with the same stern composure she remembered all too well—unchanged, yet colder than before.
"You were foolish to come back like this."
He said, his voice a quiet thunder in the silence.
"Betraying your people once was enough. But to return and think you'd be welcomed? That was naïve."
Irielle scoffed, her lips twisting into a bitter smile.
"Don't act like this wasn't what you wanted. You begged me again and again to come back. Letters, messengers—always the same plea. And now you call me a traitor for listening to you?"
Her father's expression flickered, almost imperceptibly, before he let out a sigh.
