Thorns Between Dagger and Heart

Chapter one prison break

Content warning:  blood, near death ans hints of hatred.

A cold, damp cell swallowed Kiarena whole.

Stone pressed moisture into her bones, the air sour with rust and old fear. Her ghost-white curls spilled freely down her back—long, thick, untamed, the kind of hair that refused obedience unless braided for war. Damp strands clung to her neck and shoulders as she turned slowly in the dark, bare feet silent against the stone.

Her large, doe-shaped eyes, pale mauve and luminous even in shadow, flicked from wall to wall. Searching. Measuring. Calculating. Her breath stayed shallow—not from fear, but from restraint. Panic wasted energy.

Torchlight flickered through the bars, catching on her kikyō-iru purple skin* deep and velvety, freckled from collarbone to hip like scattered stardust. A small beauty mark curved at the corner of her lip, another dusted the bridge of her nose. Along her spine, partially visible where her clothes had been torn, her clan tattoo burned dark against her skin—a bleeding moon, orchids blooming upward, their roots tangled low near her back, petals climbing toward her neck like they were reaching for breath.

She noticed the torch last.

The iron bracket was old. Loose.

Her fingers tested it once—twice—then she wrenched it free with a sharp twist. Sparks hissed. The flame guttered but lived.

When the cell door clinked open, she didn't hesitate.

Kiarena slipped through the gap like smoke, her pear-shaped frame—soft curves, thick thighs and hips—moving with practiced ease. She didn't run. Running made noise. Instead, she walked, shoulders low, head tilted, ears straining for sound.

Then—

Pain exploded through her left shoulder.

Steel punched deep. Breath tore from her lungs as she staggered, a strangled sound ripping from her throat. She spun just as a forest elf  slammed into her, disheveled and wild-eyed, trying to drive her to the floor. His grip was clumsy, frantic—too much force, not enough control.

She snarled.

Before he could react, the second mouth at her collarbone split open, teeth snapping shut around his arm.

He screamed.

The sound echoed off stone as venom flooded the bite. He yelped, staggering back, clutching himself as if he couldn't decide whether to flee or fight.

Kiarena straightened slowly.

Blood dripped down her arm. Her breath shook—not weak, but furious.

She bared her teeth.

Her canines were long, sharp, slick with venom, lips curled in a snarl so raw it felt feral. Her eyes burned, pupils blown wide, chest heaving as rage snapped tight behind her ribs.

"I was leaving," she hissed, voice rough and broken. "You should have stayed still."

Footsteps thundered.

Another presence slammed into the corridor like a storm given flesh.

He was young—too young to wear that expression.

Alma stood rigid a few paces away, champagne-blonde hair tangled and falling into his face, sweat plastering it to his temples. His sage-green eyes locked onto her like a blade finding a throat. Slim, sharp-boned, still growing into himself—but coiled tight with fury.