Casimir stood up slowly his breath came out ragged. The cold stone walls of his cell had long numbed his limbs but with each movement, life returned like fire ignited. He flexed his bloodied fingers, cracked and raw from struggling against the iron restraints. His wrists bore angry red welts where the shackles had dug deep into his skin but the pain only fueled his purpose.
Magic stirred inside him, wild, ancient, and vengeful. It surged beneath his skin, answering the call of his will. The air shimmered faintly around him as if the world itself recognized the awakening of someone dangerous.
His thoughts turned to Caroline, her voice in his memory, soft and defiant. Her hands steady even when the world around them crumbled. The image of her courage in the face of fear, seared itself into his heart.
