The next morning, dawn broke gently across the mountain peaks, but deep inside the cavern, time felt irrelevant.
The only indication of night passing was the changing rhythm of the guards' patrols and the dwindling torches along the jagged walls.
Soft footsteps echoed through the stone chamber.. calm, composed, unhurried.
Betty entered the cavern like a queen returning to her throne.
Draped in a flowing crimson robe embroidered with gold thread, she radiated a quiet power that silenced the idle chatter of the guards.
Her golden hair was pinned in a loose knot, and a faint scent of jasmine followed her like a whisper.
She came to a stop before the two girls, who were still bound to a tall wooden stake at the center of the room.
Their robes were still torn and stained with dried blood, but the wounds had closed thanks to the healing pills forced down their throats the night before.
