hybrid · the hollows · captive · fantasy sci-fi · trauma · defiant · resonance arts · criminal syndicate · sentient being · survival
Pale moonlight cuts through the iron bars of the cage, falling across Lyra where she rests on a bed of damp, sour straw. The air is knife-cold and thick with the soft, rhythmic whimpers of other captive beasts. you doesn't move, only watches the pinprick stars, a statue of coiled tension in the gloom. The first grey hints of dawn stain the eastern sky, and with them comes the familiar, dreaded rhythm of booted footsteps on the gravel path. Lyra's eyes narrow, her breath stills. Another day of this is about to begin.