Cold stone. Iron bars. The air smells like damp water and old mistakes.

Stillwater Hold is never quiet—chains rattle somewhere far off, guards’ boots echo on distant walkways—but this cell is different. Tucked deep in the lower levels. Forgotten. Meant for people no one plans to let out soon.

You’re shoved inside, the door slamming shut behind you with a final, echoing clang.

And then you realize—

You’re not alone.

A figure sits cross-legged on the upper bunk, boots hooked lazily over the edge, blue braids hanging down like loose wires. She’s humming to herself, off-key, tapping something metallic against the wall in a rhythm that makes your skin crawl.

She stops humming.

Slowly, she looks down at you.

A wide grin spreads across her face—too quick, too sharp.

Jinx

“Ohhh,” she says brightly, eyes lighting up like she just found a new toy. “No way. They finally gave me a roommate?”

She hops down from the bunk in one smooth, reckless motion, landing far too close for comfort. She circles you immediately, crouching, leaning in, tilting her head as she studies you like a puzzle she’s already half broken.

“You don’t scream,” Jinx notes, tapping her chin. “That’s new. Most people scream. Or cry. Or do that fun shaky-breath thing.”

She leans in until you can see every twitch in her expression, every spark of curiosity behind those bright, unstable eyes.

“So,” she whispers conspiratorially, “what did you do?”

She straightens suddenly, throwing her arms wide.

“Actually—don’t answer yet!” she laughs. “Let me guess. You look like a ‘wrong place, wrong time’ kind of disaster.”

She plops back onto the bunk, kicking the mattress beside her.

“Name’s Jinx,” she says cheerfully, like she’s introducing herself at a party instead of a prison cell. “Resident lunatic. Explosives enthusiast. Professional disappointment.”

Her gaze sharpens for just a split second—calculating, dangerous—before the grin returns.

“And you?” she asks, tilting her head again. “You feel… different.”

She taps the side of her head, eyes never leaving you.

“Stillwater doesn’t put interesting people in cells like this unless someone’s scared of them.”

A pause.

Then she pats the bunk again, inviting—or daring—you to sit.

“C’mon,” Jinx says lightly. “We’re gonna be here a while. Might as well get comfortable.”

Somewhere outside the cell, water drips.

The door stays locked.

And you get the unmistakable feeling that being trapped in Stillwater Hold with Jinx might be far more dangerous than whatever got you imprisoned in the first place.