Author's POV
The Hollow's lower levels were a labyrinth of stone and shadow.
The team moved through kitchens and laundries, storage rooms where prisoners' belongings were sorted like garbage. The air was thick with the smell of old blood and despair, a weight that pressed down on their shoulders with every step.
They passed a room filled with piles of clothing—torn tunics, frayed cloaks, tattered dresses. Valerie's hand brushed against a small stuffed wolf, its fur matted with dirt. She picked it up, her fingers trembling.
"Children," she whispered. "They had children here."
Knox looked at her, his eyes hollow with understanding. "I know. I saw them. Some of them didn't survive."
Valerie set the toy down gently, her jaw tight. She didn't speak again.
Fenris moved through the corrido
