The skeleton within the rusted cell lay contorted in a position that suggested its final moments had been anything but peaceful. Bones yellowed with age rested atop a thin layer of dust and decayed fabric—the last remnants of whatever clothing had adorned the unfortunate soul in life. Unlike the fresh carnage that painted the dungeon's main chamber, this was ancient death, a grim historical footnote in the castle's bloody ledger.
Arthur pressed his face closer to the bars, narrowing his eyes as he studied the remains. His shadow arm, still a disconcerting sight even to himself, gripped one of the rusted bars as he leaned forward.
"First actual remains we've found," he murmured, voice barely audible.
Aziel grunted in acknowledgment, his eyes scanning the confined space.
