Before Nadia even opened her eyes, she felt it—the cold, damp stone beneath her, the musty air thick with the scent of blood. The low sobbing sounds that bounce off the walls as if they are in a cavern.
Her eyes fluttered open as she pushed herself up, groaning from the cold seeping into her bones. She was still wearing the dress from last night, yet it didn't shield her from getting the chills. She pressed a hand to her throbbing head, blinking against the dim, flickering light cast by scattered yellow lamps. It barely helped her see, but the rusting iron bars before her were unmistakable.
A cell.
Her breath steadied as she sharpened her focus, listening. Faint scratching sounds—nails against stone, maybe?—whispered through the dark. A shrill scream rang out from somewhere distant, so brief and fleeting it left her questioning if she had imagined it. But the closest sound, the one that made her skin prickle, was right beside her: weak gasps, interspersed with soft whimpers.
