Rhydor's POV
I walked down the cold stone corridor leading deep into the underground dungeon.
The torches mounted along the walls flickered wildly as I passed, casting long, dancing shadows against the damp rock.
The air down here was thick, heavy, and smelled faintly of rot and wet earth.
I felt their presence before I even reached the iron door. Silas was down here, along with Axel.
But mixed in with their familiar energy was something else entirely. Something twisted, wrong, and suffocatingly powerful that made the wolf inside me scratch at my chest in warning.
I stepped into the dim dungeon room.
A man was tied tightly to a heavy wooden chair in the center of the floor.
His head was bowed low toward his chest, his hands firmly bound behind his back with thick rope.
His clothes were torn to shreds and coated in a dark layer of wet mud, looking as if he had been dragged through miles of rough wilderness before being brought here.
