The darkness was absolute. Not the gentle darkness of night, but a thick, oppressive blackness that swallowed even the memory of light. Lady Rowena Thorne huddled on the thin mattress, straining to hear anything beyond the steady drip of water from somewhere in the corner of her cell.
How many days had it been? Three? Five? Without windows or regular meals, time had become meaningless, bleeding together into one continuous nightmare.
I wrapped my arms around myself, my once-fine dress now soiled and torn. My fingers brushed against something small that scurried across the stone floor, and I jerked back with a stifled scream. Rats. They were everywhere in this dungeon, growing bolder with each passing hour.
"Alaric!" I called out, my voice hoarse from previous screaming. "Alaric, please! This has gone far enough!"
Only silence answered me.
