Hazel’s POV
My head throbbed as consciousness slowly returned. The first thing I noticed was the stench. The air was musty, thick with mold and decay. My eyelids felt heavy, but I forced them open, wincing at the dull pain pulsing behind my temples.
The room was dark. There was barely enough light coming in from the cracks of what seemed like the door. It allowed me to make out vague shapes and outlines.
I was in some kind of basement. The walls were covered in peeling, water-stained wallpaper. The concrete floor beneath me was cold and damp against my skin. Above, exposed pipes ran across a cracked ceiling.
I tried to move and immediately felt the bite of metal against my wrists, causing me to hiss in pain. Looking down, I saw silver chains binding my arms, the metal already leaving angry red marks on my skin. My ankles were similarly bound.
Silver. Of course.
