Alaric's POV Dungeon
The scent of rot and rust filled my lungs as I stepped into the dungeon, where silence hung heavy and cold. The walls wept moisture, every drip echoing like a clock ticking toward his end. He was exactly where I told them to keep him chained like an animal, hunched over, the iron biting into his wrists.
His eyes snapped to me the second the door groaned open. Panic bloomed instantly.
"Sire," Philip croaked, voice trembling. "I don't know what came over me. I thought I was doing the right thing, I swear. I thought I was saving people… saving you from yourself. But I was wrong. I see that now. You're not weak. You're powerful, and you always have been. Please… please let me go. Don't kill me."
Pitiful.
