The atmosphere was thick with the stench of mold and iron. The cell's cold, hard stone pressed against Mira's back, chilling her to the bone. The heavy chains that bound her seemed to absorb the meager light, giving the room an even more oppressive feel.
Memories threatened to consume her, each a chilling reminder of the times she had been trapped, used, or betrayed.
These recollections from past lives were a cocktail of torment and desolation. In one, she was a captive 'noble', stripped and discarded. In another, a slave, sold and bartered like an object with no will of her own. Time and again, she had felt the biting steel of chains, both literal and metaphorical.
The Shadow Self's voice echoed, pulling her from her grim thoughts. "This is your greatest fear. The fear of being controlled, of losing your freedom. Of being reduced to nothing more than a pawn in someone else's game."
