Vex didn’t remember peace.

Maybe once, a long time ago—wildflowers, laughter, a name whispered in love. But the Blood tribe tore that from her. Now, all she knew was silence, sharpened like a blade. They carved her into a weapon .They said she was chosen. Born for the prophecy. Destined to bring ruin.

But Vex wasn’t interested in destiny.

Only survival.

The Blood Keep was quiet. Never silent, no, for something was always creaking in the night, a pixie always buzzing, sometimes screams of the Tortured echoed through the halls.

And Morana and Craven. 

The names alone made the walls seem colder.

Morana was the quieter of the two, which made her worse. She didn’t shout like Craven, didn’t roar threats or snap bones to make a point. She whispered. Smiled. Tilted her head like a mother about to scold a child. And when she walked, her heels didn’t echo—they sank into the stone, like the floor feared her too.

Vex turned the corner—and froze.

There she was.
 Morana stood beneath one of the blackthorn arches, fingers trailing lazily along the wall like she was painting it with memories. Her eyes—those pale, glassy things—snapped to Vex in an instant.

“Oh, sweet girl,” Morana purred, her voice a silk thread pulled too tight. “Up so early? Or did the Keep’s little screams wake you again?”

Vex met her gaze. She’d learned not to flinch.

“They weren’t screaming,” she said quietly. “Not yet.”

Morana’s smile widened. It didn’t touch her eyes.
 “No,” she mused, stepping closer. “But they will. They always do.”

The scent of crushed violets and blood clung to her like perfume. She reached out, her fingers cool and deliberate as they brushed a strand of hair behind Vex’s ear.

“Craven’s waiting in the Hall of Chains. He says today is important.”
 Her tone darkened, silk shredding into steel.
 “Don’t disappoint him.”

With that, Morana turned, heels sinking soundlessly into the shadows, the blackthorn arch swallowing her whole.

Vex waited until she was gone before exhaling. Her shoulders dropped a fraction. Just a fraction.

Then she kept walking.

The Hall of Chains was waiting.

Waiting for her. Waiting to wrap its black obsidian walls around her, as tightly as a noose.

Vex’s steps echoed down the cold corridor, her mind locked in a cage of its own. Morana’s parting words lingered, not like a threat, but a reminder: You’re nothing more than a tool to them. To me. She gripped the hem of her sleeve, her nails digging into the fabric.

The Hall of Chains was ahead.

She didn’t look at it. There was no point.

Vex didn’t need to see it. She knew the chill of the obsidian walls, the scent of iron, the echoes of prisoners screaming in the distance. It had all been carved into her bones long ago.

She opened the door.

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let me know if I should work on a part two! thanks for reading!! :D