Debra defiant

Princess Debra awoke to the pounding of her own heartbeat and the weight of chains pulling at her wrists. The air was damp and cold, scented with smoke and stone, the unmistakable aura of her enemy’s fortress. Her head throbbed as flashes of memory returned: the clash of swords, the chaos of retreat, the crushing blow that had sent her into darkness. Now she lay on a grand bed in a chamber draped in crimson and black, her arms bound to the posts with heavy iron shackles. Each breath came with the raw taste of fear, but also the slow-burning realization that she was deep within the castle of her parents’ sworn foe, and very much alone. The door creaked open, spilling golden light across the floor. Boots clicked on the stone as her captor stepped inside — tall, cloaked in dark velvet, his gaze sharp with the confidence of a conqueror.