Gwendolyn shivered in the darkness. Her cell was dank and filthy, the rough stone floor cold and hard beneath her bare feet. The air was damp and musty, making it hard to breathe.
She had been left alone, and the only sounds were the distant dripping of water and the occasional scurrying of rats, their tiny claws scratching the ground. The smell was awful, a mix of mold and decay that made her stomach churn. The taste of fear was bitter in her mouth, and the darkness pressed in on her from all sides.
The collar around her neck was heavy and almost suffocating, and the chain attached to it rattled with every move she made. She could feel the shackles cutting into her skin, and the bruises on her arms and legs were aching.
She thought about the guards and Lord Zoltar. They had treated her with disdain, and their words had cut her deeply. She had always been treated with respect and care, but now she was nothing but a lowly creature.
Though she knew it was impossible, thoughts of escape rushed through her head. The dungeon was a maze, and she was chained. The winding corridors and hidden passages were completely unfamiliar to her. She had no idea where to go or how to escape this terrifying place. Even if she managed to get out of the cell, she would have to face the guards, and they would capture her.
Despair was beginning to settle over her, and she felt hopeless and defeated. She curled up in the corner of the cell, pulling her knees to her chest. She didn't know how long she would be trapped there, or what would happen to her. She felt lost and alone, with no way out.
Suddenly, she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. The steady, echoing steps grew louder, sending a jolt of fear through her. She held her breath, her heart pounding as she waited to see who or what was coming.
The footsteps stopped outside her cell, and the heavy door creaked open. She saw a figure silhouetted against the light, and then a harsh voice barked at her.
"Get up, girl!"
She scrambled to her feet, her body shaking.
"Come on! Don't keep the master waiting."
The soldier unlocked her chains and shoved her towards the open door.
"Go!" he ordered, his voice filled with disgust.
She stumbled forward, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. The soldier shoved her forward, and she walked down the long corridor, her legs shaking. She had no idea what was in store for her, but she was scared out of her wits.
They walked up a flight of stairs, the stone steps rough against her bare feet. At the top, there was another set of iron doors. They were opened, and she was pushed through, the sound of them slamming shut cracking in the cold, damp air.
As she emerged from the stairway, Gwendolyn found herself in a large room with high ceilings. The walls were lined with intricate carvings and detailed murals depicting scenes of battles and royal ceremonies. The floor was made of polished marble, gleaming under the dim light.
She wanted to ask where he was taking her, but her lips felt sealed shut. Fear and uncertainty kept her silent as she followed, her mind buzzing with questions she couldn't voice.
At the end of the hallway, there was another set of doors, these ones made of heavy oak. The soldier knocked once and then entered.
"My lady, your new slave has arrived," the soldier announced.
In an instant, Gwendolyn was shoved inside and forced to her knees. Looking up, she saw the imposing figure of a woman who must be the lady of the house, the wife of Lord Zoltar.
The lady had a commanding presence, tall and regal, with sharp features and piercing eyes that seemed to examine every inch of Gwendolyn. Her hair was pulled back tightly, adding to her stern appearance. Her manner conveyed authority and control, while her elaborately embroidered gown spoke of riches and power.
A row of servants dressed in plain, grey uniforms accompanied her. They stood with silent efficiency and grim expressions as they attended to her every word and gesture. Their attire was simple yet neat, emphasizing their status as the intimidating lady of the house's attendants.
The lady was sitting in an ornate chair, her body relaxed as she surveyed her. Her lips curved into a cruel smile, and her dark eyes glinted with something Gwendolyn could not quite put her finger on.
"So, this is the new slave my husband has purchased," the lady stated, her voice low and husky.
"Yes, my lady," the soldier answered.
Gwendolyn remained silent, her eyes fixed on the floor.
"She looks like she will be useless to us, don't you think?" the lady continued, her eyes narrowing.
"Indeed, my lady," the soldier replied.
"My lady, I assure you, I'm not—" Gwendolyn protested, her voice shaking.
"Silence, slave!" the lady roared. "Do not presume to speak unless spoken to."
Gwendolyn immediately closed her mouth, her heart thudding. She had never been spoken to in such a way before. She could feel the weight of the lady's disapproval, and it made her stomach clench.
The lady rose from her chair and slowly approached Gwendolyn, her footsteps echoing through the silent room. She leaned closer, her gaze intense as she examined her closely.
"Tell me, slave. Do you have any useful skills?" the lady demanded, her tone cold and harsh.
Gwendolyn hesitated, unsure of what to say. She knew that whatever she said, the lady would not be pleased.
"Well?" the lady pressed, her voice rising.
"I-I can cook, clean, and tend to gardens, my lady," Gwendolyn responded, her voice barely a whisper.
"Is that all?" the lady scoffed, her eyes flashing with anger. "How useless. You're a worthless piece of trash, and I'll see to it that you are punished accordingly."
Gwendolyn winced, tears pricking at her eyes. She wanted to protest, to defend herself, but she knew it would only anger the lady further.
The lady's lips twisted into a cruel smile. "Don't worry, slave. You will be punished for your insolence. And when you're finished, you will learn to obey."
Her heart raced in her chest as she felt the lady's fingers wrap around her wrist, a painful grip that threatened to break her bones.