Damian
The dungeons beneath Knight Castle are nothing like the stories.
They aren’t damp, rotting pits or medieval torture chambers. They’re carved from black stone, reinforced with silver-lined bars and runes that pulse faintly with power. Torches burn with a steady blue flame, casting long shadows across the corridor. The air is cold, metallic, humming with the weight of secrets.
However, the deeper we walk, the warmer the air becomes. I was always told the dungeons were dark, dank, and scary. This is anything but.
Thane chuckles. “I know what you’re thinking.” He tells me. “This is the dungeon for those who have committed lesser crimes. I know Norma is a vile woman, but she’s pregnant. All pregnant prisoners are held here until they give birth.”
“I see,” I mumble, feeling unsettled
