The cold stone walls bled shadows. The air in the dungeon was thick with damp rot, the stench of mold, sweat, and something coppery that coated the back of my throat. I was standing barefoot on the freezing floor, my toes numb, my heartbeat loud enough to echo off the walls. Chains rattled somewhere in the darkness.
The girl was there again. The same one from before thin, broken, her eyes wide and empty as if she had already accepted her fate. Her wrists were bound in iron, her lips cracked and bloodied. She whimpered my name no, not my name, but it felt like she was speaking to me. Pleading with me.
"Help me," she croaked, but her voice wasn't her own. It carried the weight of something unholy, echoing and splitting in two, one voice layered on top of the other.
