The flickering torches cast long shadows across the stone walls as Izan guided Elian down the winding corridors of the dungeon. Each step deeper brought the air heavier with damp and decay, a place meant to break even the strongest of men. Elian's face was set with determination, yet his eyes held a storm, one of memories, pain, and barely contained rage.
As they neared Cedric's cell, the familiar darkness clawed its way into Elian's mind, forcing unwelcome memories to the surface. He could feel the phantom weight of Cedric's hand on his arm, hear the mocking laughter that had once made him feel so helpless, and taste the bitterness of his own silence back then.
But not now. He steeled himself, his jaw clenched as he prepared to face the man who had caused him so much pain.
