Just before Azeal met Isabel.
In another place. It was prison of Elaris City.
The prison was dark and cold.
The walls were built from black stone, and iron-bracketed lamps lined the corridors, throwing just enough dim light to see by. On either side of the narrow pathway, thick black bars stood silent and still. The air smelled of damp stone and something older than that.
Click.
Click.
Footsteps echoed through the corridor.
Duchess Aeliana walked at an even pace, her expression composed and unreadable as always. Beside her walked Leon, one of the senior knights of House Ignivar. A man in his late twenties, broad-shouldered and disciplined, who had learned long ago to match her pace exactly and speak only when spoken to.
They stopped in front of one particular cell.
