I woke up with a piercing pain in my head, as if someone had torn out my thoughts by the roots with a rusty knife.
First came the dampness. Cold, sticky, seeping through my skin and settling in my bones. Then the smell: wet stone, rusted iron... and dried blood. A mixture so harsh that it turned my stomach even before I dared to open my eyes.
When I did, I discovered the prison.
A narrow, brutal dungeon, as if the earth itself had devoured me and spat me into its belly. The walls oozed water from the cracks, and a yellowish lamp, hanging in the corridor, cast distorted shadows that seemed like living creatures lurking behind the bars. A miserable mattress lay huddled next to a thick chain, driven into the rock. They hadn't tied me up yet, but there was no need: the threat was there, waiting, patient, like an executioner with folded hands.
"Great..." I whispered, my voice rough, as if I had swallowed ashes.
