ALDRIC
The guards shoved us through the doorway so hard my shoulder struck the stone frame on the way in.
That bastard would pay for that.
I staggered a step into the cell before I caught my balance, boots scraping against the damp floor. The door slammed behind us with a heavy clang that echoed through the corridor, the kind of sound that carried finality with it. For a moment it seemed to linger in the air, bouncing off the walls before fading into the silence.
The place smelled wrong. Damp earth, rusted iron, the stale scent of somewhere people were not meant to stay long.
I walked toward the far wall without thinking about it, needing distance from the door, from the guards, from the way my pulse had started hammering in my chest the moment the bars closed behind us. When I reached the stone, I pressed my palm flat against it. The surface was rough beneath my skin, cold enough that it bit into my hand.
For a few seconds the cold steadied me.
