Deep within the second floor of the underground prison, the air clung damp and heavy, thick with the foul stench of mold and rusted iron.
Silence pressed close on all sides, broken only by the soft scrape of footsteps and the uneven breathing of two men leaning against a young man for support.
Auren moved with careful precision, one arm around Robert, the other steadying the stranger they had freed. Their weight slowed him, but his steps remained deliberate, controlled.
Each footfall sent a faint echo rippling down the corridor, and Auren winced at the sound, straining his ears for the slightest disturbance from the rows of sleeping prisoners that lined the cells.
If even one of them woke and raised an alarm, the whole floor could erupt into chaos and risk breaking their cover to the guards outside.
"Careful," he whispered, voice tight with strain, arms tightening to hold both men upright.
