Page 6 of Doyle

My eyes darted around the dimly lit basement, searching for something that could help. The chains binding my wrists clinked softly as I moved.

My gaze landed on a small, rusted nail protruding from the wooden floorboard just outside my cage. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Carefully, I stretched my arm through the bars, fingers straining to reach the nail. The cold metal scraped against my skin, but I ignored the discomfort, focusing on my goal.

I managed to hook the nail with the tip of my finger, slowly dragging it closer. My heart pounded in my chest as I finally grasped it, pulling it into the cage.

With trembling hands, I began working on the lock. It was a long shot, but I had to try. The voices upstairs grew louder, more frantic. Time was running out.

Sweat dripped down my forehead, mixing with the grime on my face. The nail was flimsy, bending under pressure, but I kept at it, driven by sheer determination.

Suddenly, the lock clicked open. I stared at it in disbelief for a moment before reality set in.

I pushed the cage door open, the creak of the hinges loud in the otherwise tense silence. I stepped out cautiously, my legs wobbly from disuse. I had to move fast.

I couldn’t afford to be caught now. I crept toward the basement stairs, every step feeling like a small victory.

As I ascended, the voices became clearer. They were talking about an imminent attack, a raid by dragons?

I’d never seen a dragon shifter, although my dad used to tell me they existed. He’d seen one fly over his head while he and his dad hunted in the woods.

My dad…I hadn’t thought about him in ages, but now the memories flooded back. Five years ago, we went out to eat at the local diner to celebrate my high school graduation.

I had taken a cigarette break in the alley at the back of the diner, nervous about telling my dad my future plans—about not going to college and finding a job in the city.

Those worries seemed so surreal now. The eighteen-year-old me could never have imagined being taken captive by a black magic coven.

Focus on the present, I reminded myself. The voices upstairs grew more aggravated. My heart soared.

This was my chance. I had to get to these dragons, let them know I was here. The stairs creaked under my weight, each sound echoing like a gunshot in the stillness of the basement.

I paused, holding my breath, waiting for someone to notice, but the commotion upstairs masked my movements.

I continued upward, my mind racing with thoughts of escape and freedom.

As I reached the top of the stairs, the voices became distinct. They were arguing, panic evident in their tones. The mention of dragons was causing a stir.

I peeked through the slightly ajar door, seeing witches and warlocks scrambling, their faces pale with fear.

I slipped through the door, hugging the walls, staying in the shadows. The hallway was dimly lit, the flickering light casting eerie shadows on the walls.

My heart pounded in my chest as I navigated the maze of corridors, the sounds of panic growing louder with each step.

I turned a corner and nearly collided with a warlock carrying a bundle of books. He looked right through me, his mind too occupied to register my presence.

I held my breath and pressed myself against the wall, waiting for him to pass. He muttered curses under his breath, the books nearly slipping from his grasp as he hurried by.

I continued, my pulse racing. The front door was just ahead, slightly ajar. Beyond it, I could hear the sounds of a battle raging.

Roars and shouts filled the air, mingling with the crackle of fire and the crash of spells. I pushed the door open and stepped into the chaos.

"Where do you think you're going, familiar?" someone demanded.

I turned, horrified to see one of Liliana's sister witches ready to fling a ball of writhing black mist at me. Helena.

She was in command of the coven whenever Liliana wasn't there, and she enjoyed toying with the familiars when she was bored.

"Help me," I thought desperately to my inner fox, but it was a futile attempt.

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