Rosalind found herself standing in a dark and foreboding dungeon. The air was musty and thick as the sound of water dripping from somewhere echoed throughout the dungeon.
She frowned and stared at the few flickering torches that were scattered throughout the long and winding pathway, casting eerie shadows on the walls and the floor.
"Hello?" Rosalind wondered if this was a dream. It should be, she thought. The last thing she recalled was going to her bed to rest. She was too exhausted to even change her clothes, she craved her sleep.
She knew that Milith would probably scold her again for not washing her face before sleeping. That child always insisted that this was the key to always having good skin. However, Rosalind was simply too tired to care.
She took a cautious step into the twisting corridors of the dungeon. The walls were quite rough and uneven and the floor was slippery. This was probably from the dripping of water that she heard earlier.
