The musty scent of wine filled my nostrils as I descended the narrow spiral staircase. Each step carried me deeper into the darkness, guided only by the faint flicker of torchlight at the bottom. The growls grew louder, more pained—almost human, yet not quite.
My heart hammered against my ribcage, warning me to turn back. But something pulled me forward, an inexplicable need to discover what the King was hiding.
As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I found myself in a small, circular chamber. The walls were bare stone, glistening with moisture. Shattered glass littered the floor—remnants of wine bottles smashed in what must have been a violent rage. The pungent smell of alcohol hung heavy in the air, so strong it nearly masked another scent—the unmistakable copper tang of blood.
Another growl tore through the silence, raising goosebumps across my skin.
