MINA
The other three guards exchange brief, hesitant glances. They look at the wooden crate, then at Zeno's crazed expression, and simply shrug their shoulders. Traitors or not, they enjoy a show.
One of them stands up, disappearing around the dark curve of the stone hallway.
When he returns a minute later, my breath catches in my throat. He is bearing two long, braided leather whips, and a heavy, sealed iron can.
What is in that?
I get my answer the moment Zeno grabs the can, twists the cap off, and pours a small amount of the thick, shimmering liquid into the bottle's lid.
Liquid silver.
Before I can even blink, before I can pull away from the bars, Zeno lunges forward and splashes the contents of the cap directly into my face.
A high, piercing scream tears from my throat—a sound that doesn't even feel like my own.
