The silence didn't last long.
Boots scraped across stone as the guards returned, their shadows stretching against the rune-lit walls. Shax's voice followed, cold and merciless:
"Continue."
Two shifter guards stepped inside, the stink of iron and sweat clinging to them. One smirked as though he enjoyed this. The other hesitated, his knuckles white around his weapon, sweat gathering on his brow.
"Do it," Shax commanded again, his violet eyes glinting in the half-light.
The hesitant guard swallowed and stepped forward. Jane locked eyes with him, her chest already rising with ragged breaths, every nerve in her body begging her to brace. Then his fist slammed into her chest.
The blow knocked the air from her lungs. Pain shot through her ribs, radiating like fire. Her knees buckled, and for a moment she saw only black.
Then—something inside her broke.
Heat flooded her veins, searing and relentless. Her skin shimmered faintly, a purple light crawling under the surface like molten metal. Her eyes snapped open, glowing faintly with a draconic hue. The runes binding her chains sputtered, sparks spitting off the cuffs.
She screamed—not in agony this time, but in power.
The chains shattered.
The guards recoiled, but Jane was already moving. She lunged forward, faster than she ever thought possible, her body a blur. Her hand—no, her claws—tore through the chest of the guard who had struck her. Flesh ripped, bone cracked, and in one horrifying instant, he was split apart. Blood sprayed across the dungeon floor in a violent arc.
Jane stood trembling, chest heaving, her body slick with sweat and blood that wasn't her own. Her glowing eyes locked onto Shax.
He was smiling.
She launched at him, fury blazing in her veins. Her movements were raw, untamed, driven by instinct more than control. The force of her leap sent cracks spiderwebbing through the dungeon floor.
But Shax was already moving.
With a predator's grace, he sidestepped her, his blade flashing like lightning. The steel kissed her stomach. A line of fire tore across her abdomen as blood sprayed. She gasped, stumbling, the world tilting as pain ripped through her.
Shax yanked the blade free and flicked her blood onto the ground. His violet eyes lingered on her, not with fear, but with contempt.
"Weak," he said, his voice flat, almost bored. He turned, his wings brushing the edge of the doorframe as if dismissing her existence entirely. "Pathetic."
Jane collapsed to the stone floor, her hands clutching at the wound in her stomach, warm blood spilling between her fingers. Her vision blurred, the purple light in her veins flickering faintly like dying embers.
The dungeon door slammed shut with a final, echoing thud.
Jane was left alone.
Alone with the broken chains, the corpse of the guard at her feet, the searing wound across her stomach—and the knowledge that Shax had seen through her.
She wasn't just a witch anymore.
She was something else.
Something cursed.
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