Deep beneath the castle of Austerra, hidden away from the golden spires and the bustling markets above, stretched a vast labyrinth of cold and endless prison cells.
The air was damp, heavy with mold and iron, and the only sounds that echoed through the winding passages were the rattling of chains, the shuffle of weary footsteps, and the occasional scream that died too quickly.
This was no ordinary prison. It was a grave for the living, a place where hope rotted faster than flesh.
Hundreds were thrown into these dungeons- criminals, innocents, rebels, and even children. To the tyrant King, guilt mattered little.
All who opposed his will found themselves here.
Among them was Robert.
On the far eastern wing of the labyrinth, in a cell so deep that sunlight had long forgotten, there he remained chained.
His body was a husk of what it once was- skin stretched tight over bones, scars layered upon scars, his frame trembling from years of torment.
