[Lavinia's POV — Imperial Dungeons]
The air grew colder the deeper we descended, torchlight bleeding across the stone walls, shadows bending and stretching like they wanted to whisper secrets to me.
Chains rattled somewhere below. A groan followed—low, broken.
Marshi padded close at my side, tail swishing, eyes glowing faintly in the dark. Sir Haldor's steps behind me were steady as a drumbeat, the sound of duty wrapped in armor.
The dungeon smelled of rust, mold, and something sharper—pain.
I smirked to myself. How fitting.
When we turned the final corridor, I saw him.
Caelum.
Once my sparring partner, the boy who used to laugh when I missed a strike. Now slumped against iron bars, pale, sweat-slick, poison gnawing at him from the inside.
I stopped just shy of the bars. My voice slid across the silence, calm and sharp as glass.
"Well, well. My old training mate. You look terrible. Should I be offended that you didn't dress up for me?"
