Janelle
The darkness of the dungeon pressed against me like a living thing. I'd stopped crying hours ago, my tears dried up along with any hope of survival. Dawn couldn't be far away, and with it would come my execution for a crime I didn't commit.
The sound of footsteps echoing down the stone corridor made me lift my head. A guard's torch cast dancing shadows on the walls as he approached, dragging something behind him.
No, not something. Someone.
"Fresh meat for you, witch," the guard sneered, unlocking the cell next to mine. He shoved a figure inside so roughly they hit the stone wall with a sickening thud. "Try not to curse this one to death before morning."
