Cold.
Lancelot felt himself freeze and he cringed as the cool air hugged his features tightly. Wasn't the underworld a blazing ruin according to fables? An involuntary shiver reverberated from his limp figure as he shifted his position. Then it dawned on him. His heart was still throbbing against his chest, he was very much alive. His neck was still stiffened from his futile attempt of taking his life. But who? Who had salvaged his soul from detaching itself from his body?
"You are awake." A quiet voice stated, a familiar voice that his brain failed to decipher.
Lancelot fluttered his eyes open, taking his time to adjust them to his immediate surroundings. The window in the dungeon had been the culprit of inviting cool air within the small space.
"Window-"
Lancelot
