The days had blurred together, a constant haze of pain, exhaustion, and something far worse - emptiness. I wasn't sure how much time had passed since Kian and I had been thrown into the cell. Weeks? More than that? It didn't matter. The isolation was enough to drive anyone mad, but it wasn't just the walls closing in or the darkness pressing on us. It was the bond. 

The separation gnawed at me like a phantom ache, clawing at my mind with relentless desperation. I could feel Sebastian - distant, unreachable, but there. It was as though someone had taken a part of me and locked it behind a wall I couldn't break. 

He wasn't faring much better. Kian, always composed, always logical, had started muttering to himself when he thought I wasn't paying attention. He tugged at his hair, frustration and anguish etched into every movement. I could see it in his eyes - the cracks forming, the struggle to hold on. He wasn't used to this kind of pain. 

"Emmaline," he whispered one night, the name slipping from his lips like a confession. His back was to me, but I could hear the weight in his voice. "Is she safe? Does she even care?"

"She cares," I croaked, my throat raw from dehydration and disuse. "You know she does."

He turned, his green eyes hollow and searching. "It doesn't make sense. I didn't...I didn't even like her at first. How can it feel like this? Like I'm..." His voice cracked, and he shook his head. "I just want to know she's okay."

I didn't have an answer for him, not one that would help. The bond was cruel, an invisible tether that didn't care about logic or timing. And now it was breaking us both. 

I reached out, my fingers trembling, and placed my hand over his. "We'll get through this," I said, though the words felt hollow even to me. 

His lips twitched into something that might've been a smile in a better moment "You're losing your mind too, huh?"

I let out a weak laugh, nodding. "Oh, absolutely. I counted the cracks in the wall earlier. Fifty-seven. But then I started over because I forgot where I stopped."

Kian sank to the ground beside me, his back pressed against the stone wall. His knees were drawn up, his arms resting as though they were the only thing holding him together. I mirrored his posture, staring at the flickering torchlight outside the cell that danced like a cruel mockery of life. 

"I thought I'd be stronger," he muttered after a long silence, his voice barely audible. "All my training, all those years in the Autumn Court - none of it prepared me for this. I thought I knew pain. Turns out I didn't know anything."

I glanced at him, studying the sharp lines of his face. Kian had always been my rock, the one who could shoulder any weight without breaking. Seeing him unravel like this was almost harder than enduring my own madness. 

"It's not about strength," I said quietly. "This isn't a battle you can win with brute force or strategy. The bond...it's different. It doesn't care how strong you are. It just takes, and takes, until there's nothing left."

He tilted his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. "Do you think they feel it too? Sebastian...Emmaline...Are they suffering like this?"

I nodded, though he couldn't see it. "Sebastian feels it. I know he does. Sometimes, I think I can feel his pain through the bond. It's....sharp, like glass under my skin. And it's only getting worse."

Kian's jaw tightened, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. "Emmaline...she probably hates me right now. And I wouldn't blame her. I've been such an ass to her. I didn't want to believe it, didn't want to let her in."

"That's just who you are," I said softly. "You've always been cautious. Slow to trust. But she's your mate, Kian. She's not going to give up on you."

He let out a bitter laugh. "I don't even know what to do with that. I don't know how to let her in. But here I am, losing my mind because I can't feel her. I don't even know if she's okay."

"She's okay," I said firmly, though I didn't know if it was true. "She's strong, just like you. You'll figure it out. If anyone can, it's you."

His green eyes met mine, full of doubt and fear. "You always have more faith in me than I do in myself."

"Someone has to," I said with a weak smile. "And you've earned it."

He was quiet for a moment, then leaned his head back against the wall again, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Do you think we'll make it out of this?"

I hesitated, the weight of the question pressing down on me. "We have to," I said finally. "For them. For us. We have to."

Our conversation drifted into silence, the kind that lingered and pressed against your chest like a heavy fog. Kian closed his eyes, his breathing shallow, while I traced invisible patterns on the floor with trembling fingers. For a moment, I almost felt calm - until the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor. 

We both stiffened, instinctively bracing ourselves. The rhythm of those steps had become painfully familiar. Asher. He always moved with the same measured pace, as if he had all the time in the world. He never spoke when he came to retrieve us. He didn't need to. The cold, detached look in his eyes said enough. 

When he appeared in front of the cell, I refused to meet his gaze. Instead, I focused on the chipped metal of the lock as he slid the key into it and turned. The heavy creak of the door made my stomach churn, and I fought to suppress a shiver as the air shifted. Without a word, Asher stepped inside. 

"Guess it's that time again," Kian muttered, his voice laced with bitter sarcasm. He pushed himself to his feet, slower than usual, and offered me a hand. His grip was firm but not steady, a subtle reminder that he wasn't invincible. Neither of us was. 

I stood, every movement a reminder of the bruises and cuts scattered across my body. Asher gestured for us to step out of the cell, his expression blank, almost bored. He didn't have to force us anymore. We knew better than to resist. 

The three of us walked in silence, the stone corridors stretching endlessly before us. My legs felt like lead, every step more exhausting than the last. I kept my eyes fixed ahead, trying to ignore the ache that pulsed through every inch of me. Kian walked close beside me, his presence a fragile anchor. 

When we reached the familiar courtyard, the harsh sunlight stabbed at my eyes, making me wince. I didn't need to look around to know Magnus was already there, waiting. He never missed a session. 

The cold bite of the iron shackles was almost familiar now, the chains pulling at my wrists as if they were a natural extension of my body. My arms hung limply above me, the fight to resist long since worn down by days  - weeks? - of this unrelenting torment. Beside me, Kian stood motionless, his green eyes distant, staring at some point far beyond the gathered crowd. Neither of us struggled as the guards tightened the cuffs, their hands mechanical and impersonal. 

The square was quieter this time. The initial excitement of our suffering had waned, the novelty replaced by routine. Even the murmurs of the onlookers seemed dull, as if our punishment had settled into their bones, too. 

Magnus stood a few paces away, the whip coiled loosely in his hand. His light brown hair caught the faint light of the overcast sky, and his expression was as grim as ever. The mocking smile he sometimes wore was absent today, replaced by a mask of cold efficiency. 

He stepped forward, his boots clicking against the stone, and uncoiled the whip with a practiced flick of his wrist. "You know how this works," he said flatly, his voice low and gruff. "No need to make it harder than it has to be."

Kian didn't respond. Neither did I.

The first lash came without warning, striking Kian's back with a sickening crack that echoed through the square. His body jerked, a sharp intake of breath the only sound he made. 

I closed my eyes, my own breathing shallow as I waited for the inevitable. The whip snapped against my skin next, the searing pain tearing through my back and stealing the air from my lungs. My body flinched involuntarily, but I forced myself to stay silent. 

Back and forth it went, the whip cracking like thunder as it alternated between us. Kian's head hung low, his shoulders trembling under the force of each strike. His once-proud stance had wilted, his body beaten down by the relentless repetition of this punishment. 

But he didn't scream. Not anymore. 

Neither did I. 

The pain was no less sharp, no less consuming than it had been the first time, but the fire of defiance that had once burned so brightly within me had dulled to embers. Each lash was a reminder of how far we had fallen, how little of ourselves remained. 

Magnus's voice cut through the haze of pain, low and cold. "Getting used to this, are you?" He paced between us, the whip trailing along the ground behind him like a serpent. "That's good. Makes my job easier." 

I opened my eyes, lifting my head just enough to meet his gaze. "If your job is to break us," I said hoarsely, "you're wasting your time."

Magnus stopped, his brown eyes narrowing. "Is that so?" He raised the whip, and the next lash struck harder, splitting the air with a force that made me gasp. 

Beside me, Kian groaned, the sound low and guttural, but he didn't look up. 

Magnus shook his head, his voice filled with harsh amusement. "You're stubborn, I'll give you that. But everyone breaks eventually, Verena. Even you."

The whip cracked again, and this time it struck across Kian's shoulders, drawing a sharp hiss from him. My tears fell silently, streaking my face as I watched him endure the pain meant for both of us. 

"Leave him alone," I rasped, my voice barely above a whisper. 

Magnus turned to me, his expression unreadable. "Then beg."

I clenched my teeth, shaking my head despite the tears blurring my vision. "No."

He smirked faintly, raising the whip once more. "Then he pays for your pride."

The next lash struck Kian's back, and this time he couldn't hold back the scream that tore from his throat. The sound shattered what little strength I had left, and my body sagged against the chains, my tears falling faster. 

"Kian," I whispered, my voice trembling. 

His head lifted slightly, his green eyes meeting mine through the haze of pain. "Don't," he said hoarsely. "Don't let him win."

The whip snapped again, and the world blurred into a haze of agony. 

Magnus paced in front of us, his boots clicking against the stone in a slow, deliberate rhythm. The whip dangled from his hand, the leather still slick with blood. "You're tough," he said, his tone almost conversational. "But I can't help wondering...how much of it is real strength or how much of it is just a mask you wear?"

I didn't answer, my chest heaving as I tried to steady my breathing. Kian was silent too, his head hanging low, but I could see his fists clenching in the chains. 

Magnus stopped in front of me, tilting his head as his brown eyes locked on mine. "Let's find out, shall we?"

Before I could brace myself, the whip cracked against my back, the force of it unlike anything I'd felt before. The air was driven from my lungs, and my knees buckled as white-hot pain exploded through my body. 

"Magnus," I gasped, my voice raw. "What are you-"

He struck again, and this time I felt it - a surge of energy in the whip, a power behind it that was unnatural. Enhanced. His strength wasn't just his own; he was using his magic now, each strike hitting with the force of a battering ram. 

The crowd murmured in hushed tones, some of them stepping back as if even they felt the shift in the air. 

"Getting harder to hold on, isn't it?" Magnus said, his voice low and taunting. He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. "Don't worry - I can help you let go." 

The next lash didn't come physically - it came inside my mind. A flood of emotion, sharp and unbearable, crashed over me like a tidal wave. Regret. Guilt. Fear. It was as if every failure, every mistake I'd ever made was being dragged to the surface, magnified a thousandfold. 

"You abandoned them," Magnus whispered, his voice curling through my mind like smoke. "The Autumn Court. Your people. Your family. You walked away, and now look where it's gotten you."

I clenched my fists, my nails biting into my palms as I struggled to shut him out. "Stop it," I choked, my voice trembling. 

But he didn't stop. The next wave of emotion struck harder, each thought burrowing deeper into my mind. 

Sebastian will forget you. 

You'll never belong in the Spring Court. 

Kian is suffering because of you. 

The last thought hit like a dagger, twisting deep in my chest. I turned my head toward Kian, his body trembling as another lash struck him, amplified by Magnus's strength. He bit back a cry, but the pain was written all over his face. 

"This is your fault," Magnus murmured, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "You're the reason he's here. The reason he's suffering."

"Stop it!" I screamed, the sound ripping from my throat as tears poured down my face. 

Magnus straightened, the whip coiled loosely in his hand as he studied me with a faint smirk. "That's better," he said, his voice soft but cutting. "No more pretending to be strong, Verena. This is who you are - a scared, broken little faerie who doesn't know where she belongs."

I sagged against the chains, my body trembling as his words crushed me. The pain in my back was distant now, overshadowed by the storm raging in my mind. 

But even through the despair, a flicker of defiance remained. It was small, fragile, but it was there - a spark refusing to be extinguished.

"You're wrong," I whispered, my voice barely audible. 

Magnus raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. "What was that?

I lifted my head, meeting his gaze through the haze of tears. "You're wrong," I repeated, louder this time. "You can hurt me. You can make me doubt. But you'll never break me." 

For a moment, Magnus's expression faltered, a flicker of something like surprise flashing across his face. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by a cold, calculating smile.

"We'll see," he said softly, the whip cracking once more. 

The whip cracked against my back again, and I bit down hard on my lip, tasting blood as I fought against the scream clawing at my throat. Pain seared through every nerve in my body, but I forced myself to stay upright, even as my legs trembled beneath me. 

Beside me, Kian flinched as the next lash landed on him, his green eyes tightly shut as he struggled to keep his composure. The chains rattled as his body sagged, and my heart clenched at the sight of him - of both of us - being dragged through this hell. 

Magnus's voice cut through the haze of agony, low and taunting. "How long can you hold on, I wonder?" he mused, pacing between us. "Another hour? A day? A week?"

I didn't answer, couldn't answer. My focus was slipping, the edges of my vision darkening as the pain blurred into something deeper - something raw and unrelenting. 

And yet, through it all, a thought began to crystallize in my mind, sharp and unwelcome. 

Another lash struck me, and I staggered forward, the chains biting into my wrists. My teeth ground together as tears streamed down my face, but the realization wouldn't let me go. 

Magnus wasn't just a soldier or an enforcer. He was a weapon, a perfectly designed instrument of torment. His enhanced strength made every strike feel like it was delivered by the wrath of the court itself, each lash carrying enough force to shatter both body and spirit. 

But it wasn't just the physical pain that made him so effective. No, it was the other part of him - the insidious, invisible blade of his emotional manipulation. 

I felt it now, crawling under my skin, burrowing into my mind. The whispers of doubt, the magnified guilt, the unbearable weight of every mistake I'd ever made. It was relentless, a tide of despair that threatened to drown me. 

This wasn't just punishment - it was a calculated assault on the very core of who I was. And Magnus was perfect for the job. 

It would take someone cold, someone ruthless, to do this day after day without breaking themselves, I thought bitterly. And someone clever enough to know exactly how to push their victims to the edge. 

The whip snapped against Kian's back, and his cry of pain cut through my thoughts like a blade. I turned my head toward him, my vision blurring with tears as I watched him tremble, his body barely holding itself up. 

Magnus stopped, his brown eyes gleaming with something cold and calculating as he glanced between us. "It's almost funny," he said, his voice laced with mockery. "How quickly strength turns to weakness. How easily defiance crumbles under the right pressure."

I clenched my fists, the metal of the chains digging into my wrists. "You think this makes you strong?" I rasped, my voice trembling. "Hurting people who can't fight back?"

Magnus tilted his head, his light brown hair falling into his eyes as he regarded me with faint amusement. "Strength is knowing how to break someone," he said coldly. "And trust me, Verena, I'm very, very good at my job." 

I didn't respond. I couldn't. The truth of his words twisted in my chest, threatening to choke me. 

He wasn't lying. He was good at this. Too good. His strength, his precision, his ability to slip into my mind and pull apart my defenses piece by piece - it was all designed to destroy. 

And for the first time, a sliver of doubt crept into my heart. 

How long can we survive this?

But then I glanced at Kian, the way he was still standing, still breathing despite everything. And I realized that as long as we had each other - as long as we could endure this together - Magnus couldn't truly win. 

Magnus raised his arm, the weapon in his hand, ready to deliver another strike. My breath hitched, and I braced myself, every nerve raw and exposed. But just as the moment stretched unbearably, a calm yet commanding voice cut through the courtyard. 

"That's enough."

Magnus froze mid-swing, his eyes narrowing as he turned to see Asher stepping forward from the shadows. His expression remained stoic, as though the scene before him was nothing more than a tedious formality. 

"The king has summoned them," Asher said, his tone as unyielding as iron. He gestured toward the guards. "Release them. Now."

Magnus hesitated, his lips curling into a displeased sneer. "You always ruin the fun, Asher."

"This isn't about your entertainment," Asher replied, his voice cold. "Do as you're told."

The guards moved quickly, their expressions blank but their movements practiced. The chains binding Kian and me were removed, clattering to the ground with a metallic echo. My arms fell limply to my sides, the sudden absence almost disorienting. 

Kian staggered slightly but caught himself, his breathing ragged. I glanced at him, worry twisting in my chest. His face was pale, his green eyes dim with exhaustion, but he gave me a small nod, as if to say he was still standing - for now. 

Magnus grumbled something under his breath but didn't argue further. He handed off his weapon to one of the guards, who avoided looking directly at us as they moved to follow Asher's orders. 

"Let's go," Asher said, his sharp gaze fixing on us. There was no room for hesitation in his voice, and we didn't dare linger. 

I forced my legs to move, each step a reminder of the pain coursing through me. Kian walked beside me, his movements stiff but deliberate. Neither of us spoke, the silence heavy with questions neither of us was ready to ask. 

The walk to the king's chambers felt longer than it should have, the corridors stretching endlessly ahead. Each step sent jolts of pain through my body, but I forced myself to keep moving, my focus fixed on the faint outline of Asher ahead of us. The guards flanked us like silent sentinels, their presence a constant reminder of the gravity of our situation. 

Beside me, Kian limped slightly, his breathing labored. His usual composure had cracked, I could see the strain in the set of his jaw, the tightness around his eyes. Despite everything, he glanced my way, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came. Instead, he shook his head, the motion small but filled with frustration. 

The walls of the Autumn Court's palace loomed around us, their dark grandeur as oppressive as the weight in my chest. The air smelled of damp stone and ash, a scent I used to associate with home. Now, it felt foreign - hostile, even. I barely recognized the place I had once called my own.

A dull ache pulsed at the base of my skull, a reminder of the bond pulling at me, fraying my sanity with every passing moment. I closed my eyes briefly, trying to imagine Sebastian's voice, his presence. It didn't help. If anything, it made the emptiness worse. 

"I thought I'd feel relieved," Kian said suddenly, his voice low, barely above a whisper. "Knowing we're being taken to Wren. But I don't. Do you?"

"No," I admitted, my voice equally soft. "I don't think this will end well." 

Kian let out a bitter chuckle. "Nothing about this has gone well, Verena."

We passed through another corridor, the torches casting flickering shadows on the polished stone. My reflection in the dark surfaces was almost unrecognizable - hollow cheeks, tangled hair, bruises staining my skin like a map of my failures. It wasn't just my body that felt broken; it was my spirit, my sense of who I was. 

"What do you think he wants?" Kian asked after a moment, his voice pulling me from my thoughts. 

"Punishment," I said without hesitation. "Or a way to make an example of us." 

Kian frowned, his brows knitting together. "And if it's neither?"

I glanced at him, the faintest flicker of hope in his expression. "Then I hope you're right."

Asher slowed his pace ahead of us, his hand resting on the heavy wooden door that marked the entrance to the king's chamber. He turned to face us, his gaze piercing . "Keep your mouths shut until spoken to," he said flatly. "And don't make this worse than it already is."

I swallowed hard, my throat dry and raw, and nodded. Kian did the same, his expression carefully neutral. 

With a push, Asher swung the doors open, and we stepped into the chamber. The air inside was colder, heavier, and my gaze was immediately drawn to the figure seated on the ornate throne at the far end of the room. Wren, the Autumn King, sat like a statue carved from shadow, his sharp features illuminated by the dim light. 

But it wasn't just him. Beside the throne, partially hidden in the shadows, stood another figure. Tall, broad-shouldered, and achingly familiar. My breath caught, and my heart stuttered in my chest. 

Sebastian. 

I froze in place, my breath catching in my throat. My mind screamed at me to look away, to focus on Wren, but I couldn't My eyes were locked on the figure standing beside the throne, the one who shouldn't be here. 

It couldn't be him. It couldn't. 

Sebastian's familiar silhouette stood out against the shadows, the proud tilt of his head and the quiet strength in his stance unmistakable. But it didn't make sense. How could he be here?

My pulse quickened, a dizzying mix of hope and fear coursing through me. Was it real? Or was this the bond playing tricks on my mind again, tormenting me with something I wanted so desperately that I'd conjure it out of thin air?

Kian shifted beside me, his movements sluggish but deliberate. "Verena?" he murmured, his voice laced with concern. "What is it?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't tear my gaze away from Sebastian. Every fiber of my being ached to call out to him, to run to him, but the rational part of me held back. If this was another cruel trick of my fraying mind, I wasn't sure I'd survive the heartbreak. 

Was he real? Or was I finally losing the last fragments of my sanity?