Chapter 109: Death in the Cell
The skeleton within the rusted cell lay contorted in a position that suggested its final moments had been anything but peaceful. Bones yellowed with age rested atop a thin layer of dust and decayed fabric—the last remnants of whatever clothing had adorned the unfortunate soul in life. Unlike the fresh carnage that painted the dungeon’s main chamber, this was ancient death, a grim historical footnote in the castle’s bloody ledger.
Arthur pressed his face closer to the bars, narrowing his eyes as he studied the remains. His shadow arm, still a disconcerting sight even to himself, gripped one of the rusted bars as he leaned forward.
"First actual remains we’ve found," he murmured, voice barely audible.
Aziel grunted in acknowledgment, his eyes scanning the confined space.
The skeleton offered no answers to their unspoken questions. No convenient diary clutched in bony fingers, no dramatic last message scratched into the stone walls. Just silent testimony to the castle’s long history. After several minutes of fruitless observation, Arthur reluctantly pulled back from the cell, the initial intrigue fading into resignation.
"Not much we can learn from old bones," he concluded with a sigh. "Come on, let’s check the rest."
Their continued exploration of the dungeon yielded nothing of significance—more empty cells, more rusted implements whose purposes were best left unimagined, more evidence of a structure designed specifically to contain and likely torture those unfortunate enough to be imprisoned within its walls. The architecture itself seemed to radiate malevolence, as if the very stones had absorbed centuries of suffering and now exuded it like a noxious perfume.
Eventually, fatigue asserted itself with undeniable force. They found a relatively clean section of wall in the main chamber, positioned where they could keep Lara and Kay in their peripheral vision while maintaining a respectful distance from their grief. The stone was unforgiving against their battered bodies as they slid down to seated positions, backs pressed against the cold surface.
"Think we’ll ever get out of this place?" Aziel asked, the question emerging somewhere between genuine inquiry and gallows humor.