Beneath the keep, the air was thick with the weight of forgotten secrets. The prison cells were carved deep into the mountain’s core, their walls slick with centuries of dampness and the lingering scent of despair. Iron bars caught the faint flicker of lantern light, their dark shadows stretching across the stone floor. The only sound was the distant drip of water echoing in the dark, a mournful rhythm that seemed to match the heavy silence in the air.
Xander moved through the corridor with a sense of purpose, his boots echoing loudly in the stillness. The guards parted for him without a word, their respect for him unspoken but clear. His hand, still bandaged from the blood oath he’d sworn for Aria, throbbed with each step, but he refused to let it show. He hadn’t slept since the council
