The first thing I noticed was the cold.
Not the kind that merely seeped into the skin, but the kind that dug into the bones, curled around the ribs like an unrelenting vice. The air was thick with dampness, carrying the scent of blood, mold, and something rotting. It clung to my throat, making it hard to breathe.
A dull ache throbbed at the base of my skull. My arms were pulled taut above me, shackled against the rough stone wall, heavy chains digging into my wrists. I flexed my fingers, testing the restraints, but the moment I did, a faint glow moved along the metal—runes carved into the iron and flickered to life, sending a sharp wave of pain up my arms.
‘Suppressor chains. Perfect.’ I huffed, feeling slightly depressed.
I gritted my teeth, scanning my surroundings. The dungeon was
