In the bowels of Lockhart Manor, hidden beneath the opulent façade, lay a chilling abyss—the dungeon. A place where the air was thick with the musky scent of damp stone and the distant echoes of the outside world barely penetrated its cold, unforgiving walls.
The corridor leading to the cells was narrow, barely illuminated by the feeble glow of flickering torches that lined the rough-hewn walls. Iron bars, rusted with age, separated the confined darkness from the dim light of the corridor. The occasional drip of water echoed through the passage, creating a haunting rhythm that underscored the somber atmosphere.
The cells themselves were carved out of unforgiving rock, their floors uneven and cold to the touch. Faint chains dangled from the walls, remnants of an era when this dungeon had seen darker deeds. Small, grated windows offered a mere glimpse of the outside world—a cruel tease to those trapped within.
