Emily’s POV

I woke to darkness.

Not silence — the kind of dark that breathes, whispering things you can’t quite hear. My head pounded. My limbs felt like stone.

I tried to move. Heavy chains — iron ones, cold against my skin — bolted me to the wall behind me. My wrists and ankles were bound.

I wasn’t in a hospital.

This wasn’t the recovery room.

The last thing I remembered was the doctor’s voice:

You’ll sleep a little, and when you wake, the world will be waiting.

Well, it was.

But not the world I knew.

The air was thick with mold and rot. The faint flicker of firelight slipped through a grated door across the room. Stone walls bled dampness. I could smell old blood, dried, and something more primal.

My pulse kicked. “Hello?” I whispered. “Is someone there?”

No response.

Until I heard footsteps.

Heavy boots echoed against stone. The door creaked open.

A man stepped through—towering, broad, dressed in black leathers with a crimson sash and a silver emblem on his chest: a crescent moon coiled in serpents.

He didn’t look like a doctor, or someone I’d recognize, or anything safe.

“You’re awake,” he said.

I stared, throat tight. “Where… where am I?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he crouched just outside my reach and studied me like I was something strange, something beneath him.

“This is the Kingdom of Opsia,” he finally said, his tone flat, distant.

Opsia? I’d heard the name in whispers, in nightmares.

“There’s a mistake,” I croaked. “I shouldn’t be here. Please — there has to be a mistake.”

He tilted his head. “Everyone says that at first.”

“What did I do? I didn’t—”

“Enough.” His voice cut sharp and final. “You’ll find out what you are when the prince decides.”

The prince?

Before I could ask anything else, he stood and walked out, slamming the door shut behind him.

Darkness swallowed me again.

But now, it pressed on my chest like a weight. Every creak in the stone, every flicker of shadow felt like a warning.

Why was I here?

My heart twisted. Flashes of my father’s strange behavior flickered — the way he’d avoided me for days, the sudden desperation, the quiet phone calls. Was this his plan all along?

Before I could process it, the door groaned again. Another figure entered — different this time.

A woman. I think.

She moved like a soldier. Black combat pants. High boots. A tight white shirt pulled against a powerful frame. She carried a bundle of leather clothes in one hand and a cane in the other. A silver badge — crescent moon again — gleamed over her heart.

She paused, looking me over.

If not for the soft curve of her chest, I wouldn’t have known she was female.

“Up,” she said calmly. “We don’t have all day.”

“Who are you?” I whispered.

She dropped the bundle beside me. “Valentina. Prince Damien’s First Guard. I’m not here to hurt you—unless you make me.”

I swallowed. The name alone made my stomach twist.

She knelt, undid my shackles one by one, and stepped back. It should’ve been a relief.

It wasn’t.

“Change,” she said, handing me the clothes.

She didn’t move, didn’t turn around.

I hesitated. “Could you… could you please give me a moment? I—”

“No.” Her tone was flat, final.

I turned away, cheeks burning, hands trembling as I undressed. The leather outfit was worse than I imagined—a skirt so short it might as well not exist, a top that barely covered anything. I held it to my chest, heart racing.

“I can’t wear this,” I whispered. “Please. I… I dress decently. This isn’t me.”

Valentina raised a brow. “That little speech would earn you a beating.”

My breath caught.

“But I’m not in the mood,” she added. “You’ll answer to the prince for that.”

I turned away, forcing myself into the clothes.

The fabric clung too tight, too exposed. I felt naked, humiliated.

Valentina studied me like I was a display item in a window.

She stepped closer.

“Hmm,” she said. “If he’s seen you already, you’d be in his bed by now.”

I froze. “Wh… what?”

She gave a small, cold laugh. “Relax. You’ll meet him soon.”

Something in her voice made my skin crawl.

I didn’t even notice her reattaching the chains until the metal clinked shut again.

“You didn’t answer me,” I said, my voice breaking. “Why am I here? What did I do wrong?”

She paused at the door.

Then turned back with a smirk.

“Wrong questions, girl. Better start asking who you really are now.”

My breath hitched.

But before I could speak again, she was gone.

The torch outside flickered once—then went out.

And I was alone in the dark again.

Alone. Chained. Waiting for a prince I’d never met.

But something in my chest whispered this was just the beginning.

My body trembled under the cold bite of the chains — but the deeper pain, the betrayal, coiled tighter than any iron ever could.

I used to think losing my sight was the worst thing that had ever happened to me.

I was wrong.

Because now I could see. And what I saw was a nightmare stitched together by cruelty, silence, and blood.

At some point, I must’ve passed out.

A jolt brought me back — a thud of boots outside the cell door. My heart leapt, then dropped.

The door creaked open. Valentina stepped in, this time without the mocking smirk. Her eyes were hard, lips drawn tight.

“Get up,” she said, unlocking the chains.

I obeyed, legs trembling. Still shackled, she clipped a cold iron lead from my wrists to a thick collar fastened around my neck.

“First rule,” she said, not sparing me a glance, “Do not speak unless spoken to.”

“Second, keep your eyes down.”

She paused mid-step, gaze flicking to me.

“Third… don’t even think about running.” A hollow smile. “You won’t make it far. And if you do? What finds you is worse.”

She led me through a dim corridor. The walls wept moisture; torches crackled; voices echoed in the distance — shouting, crying, laughing.

We stepped into a massive stone chamber lit by thin shafts of sunlight and oil lamps that painted everything in sickly gold.

And I froze.

Girls. So many girls. On their knees, scrubbing blood-streaked tiles. Some no older than ten. Others aged beyond their years. All broken in different ways.

Slaves. Like me.

“Your place is here,” Valentina said, throwing a rag at my feet. “Scrub the bathhouse floor. I want it shining before the second bell.”

I knelt, heart pounding. The floor was coated in filth — muck, dried blood, rot. I dipped the rag in a grimy bucket and scrubbed until my palms burned, until my arms ached and my vision blurred.

A group of guards passed, laughing. One stopped, raking his eyes over me.

“Well, well,” he drawled. “Fresh meat.”

I flinched, shrinking into myself.

Valentina said nothing. That silence? It cut deeper than words. Beside me, a pale girl murmured, barely moving her lips: “Don’t cry. They like it when you cry.”

I clenched my jaw, blinking hard.

Was this my life now?

I was still reeling when a sound plunged the room into stillness:

A growl.

Low. Deep. Commanding.

Guards snapped to attention. Girls dropped like stones. No one dared breathe too loud.

“The prince,” someone whispered. Prince Damien.

I didn’t mean to look.

But I did.

He was tall — draped in black robes embroidered with crimson thread, dragging a woman behind him like she weighed nothing. Her screams echoed off the walls.

He stopped before a guard, yanked the dagger from his belt, and — without hesitation — slit her throat.

Her head hit the floor a second later.

I choked on a scream, every bone in my body locking rigid.

The prince turned. I dropped my gaze just in time, heart hammering so hard I thought it would burst.

His voice boomed: “This is what happens to any slave who dares speak when I am speaking.”

The room didn’t breathe. The guards dragged the corpse away like trash.

I couldn’t move. My knees shook; my stomach twisted. I’d never seen death before — now I’d watched a life snuffed out in seconds. I wanted to run, to vanish, to scream. But all I could do was kneel and tremble.

Valentina yanked my chain. “Up.”

I tried. My legs gave way. Darkness swallowed me again.

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When I woke, I lay on a hard cot in a room reeking of piss and vinegar. A basin in the corner dripped rust - stained water. The infirmary, I guessed. Valentina stood nearby, arms crossed.

“What happened to me?” I croaked.

“You —”

She didn’t finish.

A cold, venomous voice sliced through the air:

“How dare you ask her anything?”

A figure stepped forward — a princess. You could tell by her posture, her glittering blue - and - gold gown, the arrogant tilt of her chin.

Her eyes pinned Valentina like daggers. “You’re getting too close to this one. I see it. You speak to her. You care, don’t you?”

“No, my princess,” Valentina said, bowing her head.

The princess turned to me. I hadn’t realized I’d whispered aloud: “My… princess?”

She lunged, seizing my throat and slamming me against the cot.

“I’ve killed girls for being prettier than me,” she hissed. “Do you think you’ll be the exception?”

I gasped, her nails biting into my skin. “I—I don’t… please —”

“I should’ve killed you the moment you were dragged into this kingdom.” Her breath reeked of wine. “But no. I waited. Let my brother have his fun first.”

I clawed at her wrists, eyes darting to Valentina — but she stood frozen, head still bowed.

The princess hurled me to the floor. My skull cracked against stone. “Ahh!” I screamed

“When the prince asks for a slave,” she said, smoothing her dress, “make sure it’s her.”

Valentina’s voice was taut. “Yes, my princess.”

Tears scalded my cheeks. I didn’t want to go to him.

I’d seen what he did.

The princess gave me one last, hateful glance. “No slave will ever outshine me. Never.” With a flick of her skirts, she stormed out.

Valentina hauled me up by the arm.

“Don’t speak. Don’t beg. Don’t cry. You will obey.”

I opened my mouth — then shut it.

My tears spoke for me now.

Because I wasn’t just afraid of death anymore.

I didn’t fight back anymore. I couldn’t. My voice had gone hoarse, my soul bruised. I simply followed Valentina as she dragged me down the corridor in silence, her grip unrelenting, her eyes blank.

I thought maybe she’d say something — anything — but she didn’t. Not a glance. Not a breath of sympathy.

She brought me back to the tiny, suffocating cell I’d woken in the first time. The moment the iron door screeched open, the scent of mold and iron returned like a slap to the face.

She shoved me inside like trash.

“Don’t you dare speak to me in public again,” she snapped, voice raised for the whole dungeon to hear. “You’re a slave, not my equal.” Then she slammed the door behind her. Hard. The sound echoed in my chest like a final nail in a coffin.

And I broke.

I collapsed to the floor, crawling weakly to a corner of the cell. My body ached, my skin still raw from the last attack — but the ache inside me, the hopeless, soul - deep kind, was worse.

Tears flooded my eyes as I cried out loud, shaking violently. “Where is my father? Where is my mother? I want to go home! Please! I didn’t do anything! Please, take me back!”

My screams bounced off the stone, unanswered, uncaring.

“Please! Please, I want to go back! Let me out! Let me out!”

But no one came.

Until they did.

The door creaked open again. A guard stepped in, clearly irritated. He didn’t even look at me.

“The princess says you’re disturbing her peace,” he muttered. “Keep quiet.” And just like that, he turned and left.

I stared after him, stunned. Disturbing her peace?

I wasn’t even sure what peace meant in this place.

But I wasn’t finished.

“I won’t keep quiet!” I shouted hoarsely, dragging myself to the door. “You people are wicked! Treating human beings like animals! This is cruelty — this is madness!”

My voice rose with every word. “When I get out of here, I will sue all of you! I will take you to court! I will —”

The words froze on my tongue.

She entered.

The princess. Flanked by two guards, her presence made the air colder. Her eyes gleamed with fury, and a cruel smile curved her lips.

“Hold her,” she commanded, her voice calm but deadly.

Panic exploded in my chest as the two guards rushed forward. One grabbed my wrists and pinned me down. The other yanked at my legs, stretching me out flat like some captured animal.

“Please! No! What did I do?” I cried out, squirming helplessly. “I was only calling for my parents! Please, don’t hurt me!”

But the princess was already gone.

For a moment, I thought maybe it was over. Maybe she’d changed her mind.

Then she returned.

A silver bucket in one hand. A thick, leather - bound cane in the other. “Animals should be tamed,” she said coldly. “And if you insist on acting like a beast, I shall treat you as one.”

Without warning, she poured the ice - cold water over me. My breath caught as the chill soaked my thin slave clothes and bit into my bones.

Then came the first strike. Crack.

I screamed.

The second blow landed harder. Then a third. Then more.

Each lash burned against my back, my thighs, my arms. I twisted, screaming for help that would never come.

“Dad! Please! Help me! They’re killing me!” My voice was almost unrecognizable. “Somebody! Please…”

But no one came. Not even Valentina.

The guards held me tighter. The princess kept whipping. The cane hissed through the air like a serpent, finding every patch of skin not yet marked.

Finally, after what felt like hours, she dropped the cane beside me. I lay there, motionless, soaked and broken.

She leaned down and whispered, “Next time you raise your voice without permission, you’ll be sentenced to death.”

Then she left, her footsteps echoing with regal indifference. The guards dropped me, and the door slammed shut again.

This time, I didn’t cry out loud. I couldn’t.

I just lay there, curled in a shivering heap, tears slipping silently into the straw beneath me.

I had learned my lesson. In this kingdom, your voice meant nothing. Your pain meant less.

And beauty? Beauty was a curse.

I should have stayed blind. I regretted that surgery.

Because when I was blind, the world may have been dark…

…but at least I lived in peace.

Now I could see.

And it was hell.