Author's POV
The dungeons of Silvermoon were cold and damp, carved into the bedrock beneath the castle. Torches flickered in iron sconces, casting dancing shadows across the stone walls. The air smelled of rust and old blood.
Valerie descended the spiral staircase, her footsteps echoing in the silence. She had come alone, despite the protests of her guards. This was something she needed to do herself.
The captured rogue sat in the corner of his cell, his wrists bound in silver chains. He had been here for days, surviving on bread and water, his wounds slowly healing under Gretha's reluctant care. He looked up as she approached, and there was something in his eyes that made her pause.
"Valerie," he said, his voice rough.
"You know my name."
"I know everything about you." He laughed, b
