LAYLA'S POV
Hours have passed since the guards lead us downstairs and into the depths of the big building. The cool beautiful structure and decorations had started to fade away the more they lead us downwards through dark dimly lit rooms.
Seems like the luxurious rooms and stuff we passed on our way down were only meant for the rich to enjoy. The slave quaters they have settled us in is more worse than a criminal holding cell. It looks more of a basement or an abadoned storage room, dimly lit by two oil lamps from both ends, half broken windows with a thick layer of dust coating them, dusty conners covered with cobwebs and a door barely hanging on it's hinges.
It's cold, chilly and ramshackled with a musty odour that makes you feel like puking.
A while later they brought in more seven
