The prison held a stillness that clung like dust, a heavy silence broken only by the slow drip of water echoing off stone. Jonah sat shackled in the shadows, his once-defiant gaze dulled by solitude. Each passing day scraped at his sanity, and though his body remained intact, his spirit had splintered. The only visitors he had were guards—silent, watchful, merciless.
But today, something shifted.
Footsteps. Not the steady march of enforcers, but softer, slower, hesitant.
Aria.
She stood before the bars, her expression unreadable. Her voice had returned, her power had grown, and now she faced the traitor who'd nearly undone them all.
Jonah looked up, bloodshot eyes narrowing. "Here to watch me rot?"
Aria said nothing at first. Then, with quiet conviction, she spoke. "No. I'm here because I want to understand."
A bitter laugh rasped from his throat. "What's there to understand? I made a deal with the devil."
