Two guards stood at the iron-bound gate of the dungeon, their spears crossed like an X. Mist clung to the ground around the tower’s base; the morning sun barely reached this part of the castle. The guards stiffened as a tall figure in royal crimson strode down the cobblestone path.
“Y-Your Highness!” one guard blurted, snapping to attention. Both men glanced at each other in confusion. Why would the prince come here of all places?
Is this really the prison of this kingdom? Clove thought as his eyes roamed across the structure. From the outside it looked nothing like the foul dungeons he saw in movies. The dungeon is just a round stone tower ringed by high enchanted walls glimmering faintly with runes. The magic embedded in the stones pulsed like veins of light, a clear warning to anyone
