Chapter 120

• [Hazel]
• Everything burns. Even the air burns as I try to breathe, a task that feels impossible in a room made of silver. The walls are silver, the floors and bars are silver, even the beds and toilet are made of a duly burnished silver that burns every time my bare skin touches it, leaving the faint smell of charred flesh every time I forget and let myself get burned.
• I knew that witches were feared, even hated, but this cell they’ve placed us all in is a unique type of torture, one that you can’t escape even when your body gives out, and you have no choice but to sleep. Knowing that it must have caused these hateful humans a small fortune to construct this nightmare is only a small consolation.