Ishiki woke to the smell of rot and rusted iron.
His consciousness returned slowly... the first thing he checked was, the hole in his chest. Which it seemed, wasn't there.
Then he felt cold, seeping through his clothes and into his bones like water through cracked pottery. Then the pain radiating from his wrists where iron manacles bit into flesh.
Finally, awareness of the darkness, that surrounded him.
He tried to sit up and immediately regretted it. His head slammed into something hard—stone, by the feel of it and he collapsed back onto the floor with a grunt that echoed strangely in the confined space.
"Easy there, mate," a voice drawled from somewhere to his left. "You've got about four feet of clearance. Any higher and you'll be kissing the ceiling."
Ishiki blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust. Slowly, shapes emerged from the darkness.
He was in a cell that was carved directly from dark stone, lined with irregular patterns.
