Ophelia was guided by a servant down the eerie corridors of the dungeon.
The cold, damp air of the dungeon hit Ophelia like a physical blow as she descended the stone steps, each echoing footfall amplifying the weight of her thoughts.
The dim torchlight flickered against the ancient walls, casting long shadows that danced eerily in the silence.
The servant led her through the labyrinthine corridors, stopping in front of a heavy iron door.
"The prisoner is inside, Your Grace," the servant said, bowing before stepping back to allow Ophelia to proceed alone.
Ophelia took a deep breath, steadying herself, before pushing the door open.
The room beyond was small and barely furnished, a stark contrast to the opulence of her estate and the grandeur of the palace.
In the center of the room, chained to the wall, was Vanessa, the princess consort.
