The next morning came with gray light slipping through high slits in the stone walls. The dungeon air felt thicker, heavier with the smell of blood and damp.
Belle stirred. Pain hit her first. Her back burned like fire under cracked skin. Every muscle ached. Her head throbbed. She tried to move. Chains clinked. Her arms stayed stretched above her. She was still locked to the wall.
She blinked slowly. Her vision cleared a little. Across the small cell, Calista lay curled in the corner. Her knees were pulled tight to her chest. Her bruised body looked small and still. She slept with shallow breaths.
Belle swallowed. Her throat felt raw and swollen. Each breath scraped like sand. She forced sound out anyway.
"Calista," she whispered. The word came hoarse and weak.
Calista did not move.
Belle tried again. "Calista."
Louder this time. Her voice cracked, but it carried.
