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With a wicked grin, he taunted:
“Looks like your little guardian couldn’t save you after all.”
Even as dread washed over me, I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the remains of the little creature.
It was just a tiny thing, really, but its bravery had been monumental.
I blinked back tears, steeling myself for whatever came next.
The cold air around us grew even more frigid as the tension escalated.
I could hear the whirring of distant machines, the soft hum of the prison’s engines, but most of all, Sneik’s ragged breathing as he closed the distance between us.
“Now, where were we?” His voice was a sinister purr, dripping with anticipation.
My heart raced, each beat echoing in my ears.
The smell of danger was palpable.
But amidst the overpowering reek of fear, there was also something else — a faint, familiar aroma.
Suddenly, the cell lit up with a soft golden hue.
From the corners of the walls, shadows began to dance, and a soft humming filled the air.
The sensation of tiny feathers brushed against my cheek, and as I looked around, dozens of golden birds emerged from the very walls, their chirping growing louder and more harmonious.
Sneik froze, his eyes widening in shock.
The birds circled him, their numbers growing by the second.
They tweeted, chirped, and sang, creating a melody of hope that resonated in the tiny cell.
The sensation was overwhelming.
The sound of their song was like a gentle caress, the light they emitted warm and inviting.
Their soft feathers tickled my skin, their scent — sweet and floral — didn’t seem to belong in the sterile air of the prison.
Sneik staggered back, swatting ineffectively at the swarm.
The birds, in their multitude, were a force to be reckoned with.
They dived, pecked, and clawed, driving him back.
As the last of the birds vanished, leaving the corridor in a peaceful silence, I took a deep breath, relishing the newfound freedom.
The battle wasn’t over, but for now, I had a momentary respite, thanks to the most unexpected of heroes.
I touched the spot where my bird tattoo had been, feeling a faint pulse of energy.
There was magic here, deep and ancient, and it was on my side.
The atmosphere in the cell was thick with tension.
The chirping of the birds were soft, gentle sounds, so out of place in this harrowing situation.
It was comforting, yes, but it was the undercurrent of the deep, rumbling growl that now dominated my senses.
