Isabel's body slowly came back under her control as the man vanished. Her limbs felt heavy, as if they were waking from a deep slumber. She moved her fingers first, flexing them experimentally to confirm her regained mobility. The movement was stiff, but the feeling of control was a welcome relief.
She cautiously tried to shift her legs, feeling the stiffness and soreness from her extended immobility. With effort, she managed to push herself into a sitting position. Each muscle protested, but she ignored the discomfort, focusing on regaining her strength and agility. Her heart was pounding with both fear and adrenaline.
The gentle breeze against her skin was a stark contrast to the stagnant air of her previous confinement. She glanced around frantically, searching for any sign of the man or his companions, but there was nothing—no footsteps, no whispers, no lingering presence. It was as if they had vanished into thin air.
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Isabel turned her thoughts to the man's words. "Your dragon is in the deepest part of this dungeon." The words echoed in her mind, filling her with hope. Pyraxor was here, somewhere within this place.
Isabel pushed herself to her feet, her legs shaky but steady enough to support her weight. She looked around, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. The building before her was ancient, its stone walls covered in creeping vines and moss. The structure emanated an eerie vibe, each shadow seeming to hold a secret, each creak whispering a tale of forgotten horrors.
The sight of the building sent a shiver down her spine. It was clear this place had been abandoned for a long time, yet it had somehow become her prison. She couldn't tell how long she had been confined here; the days and nights had blurred together in her mind, making it impossible to keep track of time.
As Isabel slowly walked towards the dungeon. she noticed a large, rusty key lying beside her feet. Its intricate design and substantial weight suggested it was meant for something significant. She picked it up, feeling the cold metal in her hand, and examined it closely. The key looked ancient, its surface worn by time, but it seemed intact and functional.
As Isabel took a deep breath and clutched the key tightly, a flood of questions surged through her mind. Who was the man who had helped her?
She was certain now that he was not the same person who had kept her imprisoned. His touch had been gentle, and his voice carried a weight of solemnity, almost as if he felt sorrow for her plight. But why had he helped her now, and not earlier? What was his purpose?
She replayed the encounter in her mind, searching for clues. His actions had been deliberate and careful, almost as if he had been waiting for the right moment. But why wait? If he had the power to free her, why not do it sooner? What had changed?
The more she thought about it, the more questions arose. Was he an ally or an enemy with his own agenda? Had he freed her as part of some larger plan? The uncertainty gnawed at her, but she knew she couldn't afford to dwell on it for too long. Right now, her priority was to find Pyraxor and escape.
Inside, the dungeon was as foreboding as its exterior suggested. The walls were damp and cold to the touch, the air thick with the smell of mildew and decay. The faint sound of dripping water echoed through the narrow corridors, adding to the oppressive atmosphere. Isabel's footsteps were hesitant at first, but as she moved deeper into the dungeon, her resolve strengthened. She had to find Pyraxor and get out of there.
Isabel walked deeper into the dungeon, She checked every nook and cranny, every door and hallway, but found no passage leading underground. Frustration began to mount as her search yielded nothing but dead ends. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was something she was missing, something hidden.
Isabel took a deep breath, forcing herself to think logically. This dungeon wasn't just any ordinary place; it was designed to conceal and confine. The place where she had been kept didn't even have a visible gate, suggesting that other entrances and exits might be hidden as well. She had to find the secret passage.
With renewed determination, Isabel began to shift everything within reach—loose stones, old furniture, and piles of debris. She checked every wall for hidden switches or concealed doors, but nothing seemed to work. Her desperation grew as time ticked by, but she refused to give up.
Finally, she reached the lowest level of the dungeon, where a narrow staircase ended in a railing with an ornate ball at its end. She placed her hand on the railing, hoping for a clue. As her fingers touched the cold metal of the ball, it unexpectedly rolled beneath her hand.
To her astonishment, the entire staircase began to shift and groan. The stone steps moved and rearranged themselves, revealing a hidden staircase leading further underground. Isabel watched in awe as the passageway opened before her, a hidden entrance that had been cleverly concealed.
After what felt like hours of walking on this endless staircase Isabel's breathing become labor and harsh as she was walking in the entire damn dark place where she couldn't even make her out self.
After so much time Isabel finally reached the end of this long staircase and in front of her lay a massive iron-bound door at the end of a long, dimly lit corridor.
It was a heavy door with some intricate patterns on it and she could not recognize most of them, but a picture of the image was deeply engraved in front of her that sent shivers down her spine, it was a massive beast held by a chain, she couldn't tell which kind of beast it is, a dark creature or a magical beast. But she tried to dismiss her thoughts about the design and image on the door. She had a feeling that this door would directly lead her to her destination.
The weight of the door loomed before her, a formidable barrier between her and the deepest part of the dungeon. She held up the key, hoping it would fit the lock.
With trembling hands, she inserted the key into the lock. It slid in smoothly, and Isabel felt a surge of relief. She turned the key, hearing the heavy tumblers click into place. The door creaked and groaned, slowly giving way under her effort as she pushed it open.