Lyra's POV
Consciousness returned to me wrapped in suffocating darkness.
This wasn't the gentle gloom of my bedroom or the soft shadows cast by drawn curtains. This was something far more sinister.
The cold hit me first. A bone-deep chill that seemed to seep from the stone walls surrounding me on all sides. Ancient rock stretched into shadows beyond my vision, illuminated only by the wavering light of torches that cast grotesque shapes dancing across the rough surface.
I attempted to push myself upright, but my body refused to respond.
Terror blazed through my chest as I strained harder against invisible bonds. Agony shot through my wrists as metal carved into flesh. Iron shackles bit so deep I felt warmth trickling toward my elbows.
Blood. The metallic scent confirmed my fears.
