For the past couple of hours, I've been desperately striving to free my body, or at the very least my neck, but, like all of my previous attempts, I've been unsuccessful. No matter how hard I tried to reach the leather strap that was wrapped around my tormented throat, I only succeeded in making things worse.

The knot was excessively tight, and he definitely wasn't dealing with a scenario like mine for the first time. Based on how he handled every second of our time together, I was sure he had done it countless times before, leading me to wonder if this man had any boundaries at all.

When I first met Khar, I assumed he was the worst, considering the unsettling energy emanating from his body and his disturbing past. However after my encounter with the second one, who didn’t even care to offer his name, my opinion has changed.

Both of them seemed to enjoy my suffering, but as I reflected on the psychological torture he inflicted on me, I realized that this man was not only the worst, but also sick. Worse than that, I could still feel his hands on me, and his twisted glare was etched in my mind, which I was certain I would carry with me for the rest of my life.

To get rid of his picture, I focused on my surroundings and the position I was in, and so, while swearing and muttering about what a horrible person that man was, I drew my knees as near to my chest as possible and tried to cover my legs with whatever shredded cloth I had left.

My upper body was almost fully exposed, but considering how I was shackled, there was little I could do about it. My hands were not only tied and stretched out on the floor, but my head was literally attached to the wall behind me. Breathing now seemed harder than ever but that was the least of my concerns.

A thin line of sunlight has already spread through the window, and I must say, I was impressed when I realized why I was chained in that posture. Never in a million years would I have predicted such a cunning trick on their part, but it appeared that I had underestimated them. That slow torture he was subjecting me into was beyond imagination and for that I should give him credit. If I were to make it out of this room alive, I might genuinely acknowledge them as a powerful enemy.

However, instead of focusing on a possibility that was very certainly unlikely, I returned my attention to the stray sunshine that was nearing. The window across from me was high enough, but it was built in such a way that whatever light came through it exclusively touched me and only me. The room was pitch black, but in a few hours, I'd be bathed in sunlight for who knows how long.

I huffed, thinking what a cruel plan that was. All of the beatings and pain seemed insignificant in comparison to the slow torment I was undergoing. I knew I'd be slowly burned for hours, inch by inch, and there was nothing I could do but wait eagerly for it to happen.

Fortunately, my legs were mostly covered, and I still had some time before it reached my arms, but there was no turning back once it did. I didn't think I'd suffer as much as he anticipated, but it would certainly do me no good. Only if he had killed me already.

To be honest, if I had known what he had in store for me, I would never have taken his offer of water. At the time, it appeared to be an act of goodwill, an attempt to reestablish the foundation on which we began. But it wasn't, and now I would have to go through even more torment since, while my body had weakened, it wasn't as dehydrated as it had been. Despite this, I was already exhausted, my head and body covered in dry blood and tears, and I didn't have much strength left to fight.

And, in the end, what was there to fight for? During the last couple of hours that I was left alone in perfect silence, I realized that I hadn't heard of Zara in quite some time. I've been so focused on my own misery and suffering that I've unintentionally forgotten about hers. No screams nor cries have echoed and I couldn't help but think that she was either unconscious or dead. Worst of all, I honestly didn't know what I wished to be the case.

Thinking about it, I had no idea how long he would keep me alive since I refused to share another word. I was clearly useless, and the longer I remained silent, the more he lost tolerance with me. He didn't strike me as a patient man, and I was certain that after the sun went down, he'd return to continue his interrogation, and the torture would begin all over again.

But, as I've repeatedly mentioned, I would never betray Zara's trust. I may have given up but only because I have come to terms with my faith. Even if we were to suffer a hundred more times, we would never let each other down. Besides, my life was in no way more essential than hers, and I knew she was thinking the same thing. The unpleasant thought crossed my mind again and, sadly, I figured that Zara was already dead indeed, hence there was not a single sound nor had he asked me about her.

Luckily, her torment would be brief, because if she was burnt in the sun, her screams would reach our tower, and Marcian would have already found us. And, despite the fact that I had no idea where we were, I sincerely hoped he did. For all I knew, we could be anywhere, from a werewolf mansion to a prison deep in the woods. We could be thousands of miles away from home or so close that we wouldn't raise suspicion.

Whatever the reality was, I was sure Marcian would plot our breakout and gain our freedom anyway. He would have undoubtedly enlisted the help of all of our allies and prepared a strategy for not only our rescue but also the werewolves' ultimate defeat.

Kidnapping the king's daughter? There would be no mercy, and no one would be able to spare them from Marcian's rage once he discovered them. He had always been ruthless, but I was convinced they'd awakened the beast within him.

The first stray sunlight had now touched my toes, and I backed up a little, ostensibly to prevent the exposure. And, to be honest, I was furious with myself for trying to avoid the inevitable. The only genuine fact was that I was shackled and helpless, so instead of spending my final moments upsetting myself, I closed my eyes and traveled to a better place, a world without agony or death.

I went back home, to the castle perched on the edge of a cliff, surrounded on all sides by forests and the sea. As I stood in the heart of the woods, inhaling deeply, I could almost smell the freshly goldenseal and pines, combined with the salty waves, the relaxing sound reaching my ears. I brushed my fingertips over the wooden trucks, felt the life that was coming out of them, as I took in the beautiful scenery around me. Then I switched my focus to the sky, where I noticed eagles soaring above me and leaves swaying in time with the breeze.

And then, as if I was in heaven, I heard Zara's laugh. Her genuine, unpretentious laugh that she only shared with me. Unintentionally, a tiny smile appeared on my lips as a tear escaped my eyes, and I thought to myself that this was, after all, a great time to die. Zara and I had been together for as long as I could remember, and now, not only had we shared our entire lives together, but we would share our deaths as well.

We'd finally take a walk on the beach with our bare feet in the sand, taking in the sunset since it was the only time of day when we could be normal. The rest of our people would perish if even a small bit of sunshine was introduced to them, but not us.

I still remembered the time that we realized the facts, and that was when we decided that for one hour each day, we could forget about our responsibilities and titles and act like two ordinary people enjoying simple pleasures. We could be separated and so far apart, yet in a short period of time, we would be reunited. I'd never believed in the afterlife before, but it felt good to know that when I closed my eyes for the last time, Zara would be waiting for me on the other side.

But, what if one of us was left behind? The only thing that gave me the strength to accept the facts was the knowledge that Zara was going through the same thing and that she, too, would die. No one, however, could guarantee such certainty.

For all I knew, the werewolves might wind up trading her in exchange for the fulfillment of their fantasies. Her life was far too valuable to be taken away, and that alone suddenly motivated me to live. Plus, I'd never been a pessimist in my life. Zara was the one who could adapt to any situation, good or bad, with ease, but I always gave my all, even when hope was a luxury.

Tears welled up in my eyes when I realized how deeply these animals had broken me. Perhaps this was their plan all along, to make me believe there was no one who could help me and, more crucially, that Zara couldn't be saved as well. Because it had never occurred to me in all my time here that we could possibly have a shot.

I may have fantasized about fleeing or Marcian smashing through the locked doors, but as time passed, all hope disappeared. Without realising it, I had lost my passion and will to live. I've allowed myself to succumb and accept my faith, and Zara would be ashamed of me right now if she saw me.

My blood boiled as rage overtook my body since I had allowed them to convert me into a helpless, vulnerable creature. The sun had reached my stomach and was gradually burning me, and instead of displaying no fear, I was ready to give up. I was willing to sit back and watch them enjoying the moment till I finally passed. I was prepared to shame our family and taint their reputation with my weakness, but that was no longer an option.

And as Zara's voice resonated through the stone walls once again, I felt relieved and ready to give it my all.

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