Chapter 84 The Cell Of Mirrors

• The cell stank of damp stone and old blood. Its walls, cracked and lined with moss, seemed to close in more each day. Cold air seeped through invisible cracks, brushing over their thin skin.
• The floor was rough, covered in a layer of dust. No sunlight, no moonlight.
• Only the same grey-blue flicker from the lights above, blinking just enough to remind them time still passed. But they had lost count—days, weeks, maybe months. It didn’t matter anymore.