Catherine's POV
No footsteps rushing in.
No familiar presence brushing against my mind.
No bond tugging back.
Just silence.
That silence did something to me.
It crawled under my skin and whispered truths I didn't want to hear.
She isn't coming.
She chose them.
She always would.
I pressed my forehead against the cold bars, breathing shallowly, forcing myself not to break again. The humiliation of it burned hotter than the magic carved into the stone.
I wasn't weak.
I refused to be.
The door creaked open eventually not with urgency, but slowly. That was how they did things here. They wanted me to feel time stretch until it lost meaning.
The slow torture and anticipation of what will come next.
The woman who entered wore pale robes streaked with ash and silver thread. Her hair was bound tightly, her face sharp and composed, eyes like polished stone.
"You're improving," she said calmly. "Most scream longer."
