Zephyrine's POV
Claw marks on the walls, deep and jagged, as though something had tried to escape. Bloodstains, long dried, smeared the floor and streaked up the ground. The stench of decay filled the air, thick, and suffocating. Bones and skulls lay scattered, some cracked open, others still holding on to scraps of rotted flesh.
The silence was broken only by the soft scuffing of our boots against the dirt-covered ground. Cobwebs draped every corner, the strands very thick.
Caden moved ahead, pulling aside a tattered leather sheet that served as a crude curtain. The moment we stepped inside, a wave of something foul and metallic hit my nostrils.
