Orion followed Jaxon down the dimly lit staircase leading to the dungeon, his stomach twisting into tight knots with every step. The damp, suffocating air made it hard to breathe, and the faint echoes of prisoners shuffling or murmuring in their cells only heightened his unease.
This was his first time stepping foot in a dungeon, and it was nothing like what he had imagined from the vivid stories he had read. Those tales had glamorized dungeons as grim yet noble places where the wicked were punished. This was something else entirely, a cold, bleak reminder of power and suffering.
His steps faltered as they reached the bottom. The torches lining the walls flickered weakly, casting unsettling shadows that danced across the stone walls. The faint metallic tang of blood mixed with the acrid scent of dampness hit his nose, making him wince. Orion glanced at the barred cells, each one housing figures that seemed more like ghosts than people.
