Emilia walked briskly toward the dungeon’s entrance, the basket of food swinging lightly at her side. The scent of the food was out of place in the cold, oppressive air around the dungeon grounds. The iron door loomed ahead, illuminated by flickering torches that cast long, dancing shadows. She adjusted her hood, glancing around as she approached the iron door.

The guard stood in his usual spot, but tonight something was off. His posture was rigid, his face pale and glistening with sweat despite the chill in the air. His gaze kept darting nervously toward the shadows beyond the door. He flinched slightly when Emilia stopped in front of him....