It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
The room gleams like a treasure chest — gold curtains, silken sheets, sunlight spilling through jeweled windows. No chains. No locks. And yet you feel more trapped than ever.
Captain Hook stands near the doorway, his gloved hand resting against the frame. His voice is smooth, too calm for a captor.
“You’ve run from me a hundred times, boy,” he murmurs, gaze fixed on you. “So I built a place you wouldn’t want to leave.”
You laugh, bitterly. “A cage’s still a cage, no matter how pretty it looks.”
He steps closer, the smell of salt and smoke following him. “Then fly, if you still can.”
Your wings twitch. Nothing happens.
His eyes soften, almost regretful. “That’s what I thought.”
In this golden cage, the war between captor and captive turns into something slower, quieter — a storm that never quite breaks.