Rhys

The air in the dungeons is thick with damp stone and fear. I can taste both.

My boots echo against the narrow corridor as I make my way down the steps, each step deliberate, each breath measured. I’m not in the mood for hesitation tonight. The guards stationed outside the last cell stiffen the moment they see me.

They know why I’m here.

“Take a break,” I order.

They hesitate only long enough to exchange a nervous glance before bowing and leaving without a word. The heavy door slams shut behind them, sealing me in with the stench of rot, piss, and sweat.

James sits on the floor, chained...