When she reached a series of prison cells, she glanced around, finding a familiar face. She saw a few faces who looked to have given up their life. It was harder to breathe since the scent of rotten flesh, wastes crowded her senses. When he reached almost the end of the line of the prison's cells, she finally saw him, sitting on the cold floor, eyes closed. He appeared worn and disheveled. His clothing was dirty and there were a few cuts on his skin but nothing severe. He was not healing, that much she realized.

But something was off. He smelt different, like rotting.

She put those thoughts aside,...