Canna, Flora, and Elandra descended deeper into the bowels of the slavehouse, the air growing thicker and fouler with each step. The stench of rot, sweat, and despair clung to the walls like a suffocating fog. The light from their lanterns flickered weakly, casting eerie shadows across the damp stone walls. As they moved, the sound of distant battles echoed through the corridors, a grim reminder of the chaos that raged above.
This was the lowest level of the slavehouse, where the most dangerous and powerful prisoners were kept. Each cell held a being of immense strength, their wills broken, their bodies shackled with heavy chains and bound by powerful magic. The atmosphere was heavy with a palpable tension, as if the very walls were aware of the power contained within them.
