Standing up instantly, Ravenor turned and strode from the hall, his boots echoing against the stone floor. The guards followed behind him quietly. The corridors of the castle stretched before him, winding down toward the darker, more isolated parts of his domain. He walked with a quick pace, an uneasy feeling settling in his chest. It had been a very long time since he had felt anything like this.
She can't be dead.
Not yet atleast.
As he descended into the lower levels, the air grew cooler, damp with the scent of old stone and iron. The torches here flickered faintly, revealing the shattered state of the area. The dungeons were never meant for comfort, but even Ravenor felt the oppressive weight of the place as he approached Elara's cell.
