The cold, heavy rain pounds hard against the walls of a rocky cliff casting a curtain of water across the land like it’s been torn from the ocean. The cold, Atlantic wind delivers a fierce resistance. The birds take shelter amongst the ferns growing wild across the edge of the world, for what living soul would live in a place so dammed if not forced. Below the surface, the rain seeps through the cracks of a cave, drip…drip… drip; time is still. Cormac lies in a ball, chained to the damp wall, counting the drops converging into one of the numerous puddles forming around him. Alone in a dark hell with no food, no warmth, and extinguished candles from a strong breeze sweeping across the empty cavern, creating a low howl as it flows past the gaps.
A disturbance at the door grabs his attention
