The carriage jolted to a stop in front of the ugliest, most decrepit building Lydia had ever seen. Its walls, covered in thick, slimy moss, looked as though they hadn't been cleaned in centuries. The stone was dark, almost black, blending into the dreary evening sky. Vines twisted over every surface, adding to the ominous feeling that clung to the place. The air reeked of decay, sweat, and dampness, thick enough that Lydia could practically taste it on her tongue.
As the large wooden door creaked open, the sound was so loud and grating that it felt like nails scraping against her soul. The door hung loosely on rusted iron hinges, swaying slightly, but it was thick, impenetrable. A warden stood in the doorway, a hulking man with angry eyes that bore into each girl as they were pushed forward. His face, covered in scars and smeared with dirt, was twisted into a perpetual scowl. His uniform was tattered and stained with something Lydia dared not identify.
