Three nights before the execution, deep into the night, Caelith changed into men's clothing and followed one of Lucas' men through several narrow alleyways before finally stopping before a small hidden door.
The man knocked three times.
Then knocked twice more.
The door creaked open from within.
A prison guard poked his head out and glanced at her briefly. "Follow me."
The corridor inside stretched endlessly into darkness.
Iron bars lined both sides, while behind them lay nothing but blackness too thick to see through. Occasionally, faint groans echoed through the passageways, sounding less like human voices and more like cries rising from the depths of the underworld itself.
The stench of blood hung heavily in the air, overwhelmingly so.
Caelith forced herself onward step by step. The deeper they went, the darker the prison became.
Torches crackled along the stone walls, casting twisted shadows that writhed across the floor like restless ghosts.
