Lucian knew the last thing he should be doing was paying the man who had attempted to kill him a visit, but he couldn't help himself. He knew who Edmund was, but he has never had a chance to speak to any of his half brothers before. He knew they didn't like him, but that didn't matter to him one bit.
He walked the cold passageways of the dungeons, his footsteps echoing off the damp stone walls. The air was thick with the smell of mold and decay, and the flickering torchlight casted eerie shadows that danced along the walls. The further he descended, the colder it became, and the more concentrated the guards were. These deeper dungeons housed the more dangerous criminals, and he was surprised Edmund was here already.
He shouldn't be here. The rational part of his mind screamed at him to turn back, to leave this place and never return. But something deeper, more primal, drove him forward—an insatiable curiosity, or maybe it was just foolishness, Lucian really couldn't tell.
