Out of the Abyss – Day 3: Whispers and Cracks
The third day began differently. Not with the sharp crack of whips or the bark of orders— —but with a silence that watched. Balack opened her eyes slowly. The damp stone pressed against her back. Chains rattled lightly as she stretched with almost feline elegance. Around her, the others stirred — slower, heavier than before. Something in the air felt wrong. Skyme curled tighter against Balack’s side, muttering in her sleep, something about spiders that sang. Edith woke laughing—a breathless, giddy sound—as if she’d just heard the punchline to a terrible joke. Zharina sat up instantly, scanning the pen, her body tense like a bowstring. Only Jimjar seemed unfazed. "Nightmares, eh?" he said brightly, dusting himself off. "Bet you five silver it gets worse." He waited, grinning, hand out expectantly. No one took the bet. The guards came late this morning. Sloppy. Tense. Even they seemed disturbed. The prisoners were split up again for chores. Balack, Zhari...