*Nemesia's POV*

A whole month has slipped by since the heavy door of my cell clanged shut, sealing my fate in solitude. Throughout these endless days and nights, not a single soul has dared to visit. No attempts to reach out, no whispered words of comfort through the cold bars. Granted, I've never been the life of the party, preferring the solitude of my duties over idle chitchat and tea with the ladies. Yet, I harboured a hope, a belief, that we shared a bond deeper than mere acquaintance. True, there were those who sneered at my rise from a mere lycan to a position of respect, yet I couldn't fathom them embracing Melody, that interloper, over me.

Perhaps it's my rugged past that's become my shield now, preventing me from crumbling under the weight of abandonment. For any other lady of the court, this grim fate would spell certain doom—a sentence to death devoid of execution. But Nem is crafted from a different mould. The thought of subsisting on spoiled scraps or the occasional mouse or insect doesn't revolt her; survival has always been about making do with what's at hand. A bucket meant for waste finds better use collecting the scant droplets of rainwater leaking into the cell, and nature's call can be managed in the corner, much to the guards' disgust, forcing them into more frequent clean-ups.

Even in this dire state, I found use for spider webs and stale bread, concocting a rudimentary salve to nurse my wounds. It was a testament to the resilience of life, how even the most humble ingredients could foster healing when combined with the determination to survive.

As silver slowly purged from our system, Athena, my lycan spirit, began to regain her former strength. My skin, now a tapestry of scars, served as a stark reminder of the betrayal we endured. Yet, I viewed these marks not as disfigurements but as badges of honour, symbols of my undying resolve. I refused to allow my spirit to be broken, dedicating myself to a regimen of silent observation and physical preparation. From the limited view of my cell, I studied the guards' routines and the Tower's surroundings, committing every detail to memory.

Under the watchful eyes of our captors, I played the part of the broken, despairing prisoner perfectly, all while nurturing a flame of defiance that not even the damp walls of my cell could extinguish. They were fooled by my act, believing me to be nothing more than another hopeless soul awaiting salvation.

"It's time," Athena's voice, now a beacon of renewed strength, signalled the moment for action had arrived.

"GUARD!" my voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the silence, igniting a chain of events long in the making.

"What is it?" The guard's response was laced with irritation, his posture betraying his annoyance at being pulled away from other, perhaps more clandestine, duties.

"I demand a People's Court," I declared, my voice steady yet tinged with the desperation of a woman pushed to the brink. "By our law, as a prisoner not convicted of murder, I'm entitled to this if no other trial has offered me a chance to prove my innocence. And such a trial has not occurred. I demand the People's Court... I am certain everyone will recognize my innocence and that M...Marco will come to my rescue." The mere mention of Marco's name sparked a flare of disgust, skillfully masked behind a veneer of desperation.

"Cursed luck," the guard muttered under his breath as he turned to set the wheels of bureaucracy in motion.

Soon, it was decided. In two days, I would be brought before the tribunal.

"Conserve your strength, Athena. Our fate rests in your hands now," I whispered in my head, a silent pact between sisters sealed in the shadow of our cell.

While I endured the brunt of our captors' cruelty, Athena had been healing, gathering the strength needed for the moment of our escape. Even though I was physically depleted, I knew that Athena's rejuvenated spirit harboured enough fury and power to break us free from our chains.

*Guard's POV*

How pitiful the mighty have fallen. Once a figure of grace and authority, now reduced to a shadow of her former self, clad in tatters and filth. Despite her current state, she still possessed an undeniable aura, a remnant of the dignity she once held. Temptation had gnawed at us, the guards, to take liberties with her, yet we were stayed by the precarious nature of her legal standing. Officially, she was neither condemned nor absolved, a detail that perhaps escaped her notice. Better to be accused of excess in punishment than to overstep and face the consequences of violating a potentially innocent or pardoned noble.

"Move it, damn you!" barked my comrade, tasked with the dubious honour of escorting her to the transport.

She stumbled, graceless and weak, a far cry from the composed noblewoman of her past. We hoisted her onto the wagon, her cries and protests echoing pathetically in the crisp air. She had demanded her trial, a desperate grasp at justice, and she would have it, albeit under our terms.

"Hey, mate..."

I was driving, focused on the path ahead, not in the mood for idle chatter.

"What?"

Silence met my query, prompting a surge of irritation. I halted the wagon, climbing down to confront whatever issue had arisen, only to be met with a scene that would haunt my final moments.

"What do you wa..." The gleam of fangs was the last thing I saw, a stark reminder of the true nature of the creature we had underestimated.

*Nemesia's POV*

Through Athena's eyes, I watched as she dispatched the second guard, his body collapsing in a heap. They had assigned only two to guard me, a laughable oversight. They had forgotten, or perhaps never understood, the extent of my prowess.

"Brilliantly done, sister. Now, we escape," I communicated, my spirit intertwined with hers as she darted into the cover of the forest.

We ran through the day and into the night, Athena's strength unwavering, her pace relentless. It was only as dawn kissed the horizon that we paused, the need for water drawing us to a secluded stream.

"Let's drink, Nem, and rest," Athena suggested, and I complied, her desires mirroring my own.

Reflected in the water's mirror-like surface, a formidable figure stared back, a testament to the harrowing journey we had weathered. The once pristine and lush fur that adorned my towering form was now matted, each strand telling a story of survival against the odds. Stains of earth and blood marred the silver-grey of my coat, symbols of the battles fought, both within the damp walls of the cell and in the wilderness of our escape. Yet, amidst the signs of struggle and defiance, a pair of vivid red eyes glowed fiercely, unyielding in their intensity. These were the eyes of a warrior, a lycan of unparalleled strength and resilience. My stature, imposing and muscular, spoke of a power that few could rival, a physical manifestation of the spirit that refused to be broken. Despite the grime and disarray, there was an undeniable majesty to this reflection, a reminder of the inherent nobility that no cell, no chain, could ever truly diminish. This was not a moment for vanity or self-pity; it was a reaffirmation of identity, of the unquenchable fire that burned within. As I gazed upon my reflection, I saw not just the scars and the dirt, but the undimmed brilliance of those crimson eyes, a beacon of my indomitable will to fight, to reclaim what was mine, and to carve out a path toward freedom.

I drank deeply, the cool, fresh water a balm to my parched throat. Then, wading further in, I allowed the stream to cleanse the grime from my body, erasing the odours of captivity.

Retreating to the shelter of the woods, I rolled in the earth, masking my scent against potential pursuers. My gaze then turned toward the distant mountains, a natural barrier between the known and the wild, between captivity and the freedom that beckoned.

With Athena resting within, I took the lead, my steps steady and sure. The gap between us and our past would widen with every passing moment. By the time they realized our escape, we would be nothing more than shadows among the trees.

A smile, rare and fleeting, graced my lupine features. Freedom sang in my veins, a song of triumph over despair. Yet, I stifled the urge to howl, saving my joy for a moment when it could no longer be contained.

For now, onward. Toward the mountains, toward the unknown.