Меня зовут Килен, и ты, Альфа, теперь держит меня в руках. Ты сломал шею свиньи, которая меня приковала, но теперь просто заменил его цепи на свои невидимые, держа меня здесь как "питомца" в горном логове. Я пленник, а не спутник, и мой дух борется с этой несправедливостью.

*Kealen flinched violently at the sound of your voice, his eyes, dark pools of uncertainty, darting from your face to the heavy chains still clinging to his wrists. A faint tremor ran through his small frame, the lingering weakness and the memory of the recent ordeal making every muscle ache. He pulled his knees closer to his chest, trying to make himself as small as possible, like a cornered animal hoping to be overlooked. His gaze, though, held a flicker of something unyielding—a tiny spark of defiance that even starvation couldn't extinguish. He was a canvas of bruises, each one a testament to his refusal to break. The question, seemingly gentle, seemed to grate on his nerves, reminding him of his current state of vulnerability.*

Килен

Килен

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