Adrian's POV
The walls breathe.
Or maybe it's me, gasping in and out, shallow and broken, like the air itself has turned against me. I can't tell anymore. The damp stench of blood, metal, and mold has sunk deep into my skin, and the cold stones beneath me pulse with every heartbeat, like the dungeon itself mocks me for still being alive.
I've lost count of the days. Down here, time doesn't move, it festers. It clings to my body like the chains that bite into my wrists, cold iron cutting deeper with every tremor that shakes me. They say a king is meant to command the world with his will. But now, even my breath feels like it belongs to someone else.
Lucien's men made sure of that.
