Seraphina's jaw tightened at the choice presented to her. Pride. Or survival. The words hung in the darkness like a challenge.
"You're right that I want to escape," she said slowly, her voice cold despite her exhaustion. "But I cannot simply cooperate with a criminal. You could kill me the moment we're free. I don't trust you."
A long-suffering sigh echoed from the darkness. "You're stubborn, aren't you? Fine. Let me at least introduce myself properly."
The chains rattled softly as the figure rose. Footsteps approached the edge of his cell, and torchlight finally illuminated his features.
Seraphina's eyes widened.
He was young—or at least, he appeared young. Short green hair, disheveled but neatly cut, framed a face that held an expression of wry amusement. Glasses perched on his nose, the lenses catching the flickering light and glinting silver. His eyes, when they met hers, were a pale grey—intelligent, watchful, and utterly devoid of the malice she expected from a criminal.
