Serena stood in a corridor she didn't recognize. Stone walls stretched in both directions, lined with torches.
She could hear breathing, but not her own.
It was ragged. Wet. The kind of breathing that came after a rib was broken.
She followed the sound.
The corridor narrowed. The ceiling lowered. The air tasted of iron and something astringent that burned the back of her throat.
Then she saw him and her hand flew to her mouth.
Fin.
He was hanging, wrists bound above his head by chains that glowed with runes she couldn't read. His shirt was gone and his body was a ruin of bloody lacerations.
His head hung forward.
He wasn't alone.
A figure stood behind him, she couldn't see a face. Only its hands holding a thin blade with the edge wet.
The figure leaned close to Fin's ear and whispered something.
Fin's jaw clenched. His whole body locked rigid.
