As the afternoon sun cast long shadows over the Coleridge Palace, Viktor Duval, once a formidable Blackwood hunter and warrior, found himself shackled and dragged unceremoniously by King Declan's guards. The journey led him through the labyrinthine corridors of the palace until they reached a decrepit cell, its walls stained with the filth of neglect.
With a callous disregard for dignity, the guards thrust Viktor into the fetid darkness of his new confinement. The stench of decay assaulted his senses, mingling with the metallic tang of blood and the unmistakable odor of rats, both dead and living. The cell, a mockery of justice, served as a grim testament to the depths of human cruelty.
