Third-Person POV
The iron doors groaned open once more as Ryzon turned sharply to one of his armored guards. His voice cut through the thick tension of the dimly lit chamber.
“Bring the witches,” he ordered.
The soldier bowed slightly before hurrying out, the echo of his boots trailing down the stone corridor.
Andrea’s pulse thundered in her ears as her wrists strained against the ropes binding her to the carved wooden chair.
Her eyes darted around the room, still trying to make sense of her surroundings, rough stone walls, dim flickering torches, strange runes etched into the ground beneath her.
The scent of burning herbs and something metallic, like blood, clung to the air.
“This isn’t real,” she muttered, couldn’t even control her shaking voice. “This is just some sick nightmar
