That night I dream. Or perhaps… was dragged into a world even the Devil would avoid.
The air was damp, bone-chilling. The smell of rust, dust, and mildew mixed into one—so pungent I was almost certain my lungs regretted working. The walls around me were moist, cold, and cracked as if waiting for the moment to collapse. Every time I moved, chains rattled, echoing throughout the pitch-dark room.
I swallowed—it tasted salty and bitter—and only then realized my hands were bound. My feet too. Heavy, cold. And as my eyes finally adjusted to the darkness… I realized. I was in a dungeon.
Seriously? A dungeon?! Why not a palace full of feather pillows, warm tea, and a crowned cat like usual?! What kind of dream world is this?!
I stood, or rather, tried to stand without dropping myself, gripping the cold iron bars that felt like ice cubes with a personal vendetta. I tried to calm myself, steadying my breath—which only turned into small plumes of mist in the cold air.
