Lord River sat in the dimly lit cell of the dark dungeon, his back against the cold stone wall.
The only source of light came from a small, barred window somewhere far down the hall, but that alone was not sufficient to brighten the cell and it was not meant to.
The air was thick with musty odors and the sound of dripping water echoed to Lord River's hearing, the sound seeming to originate from everywhere and nowhere all at once.
Lord River's mind raced with a thousand thoughts, none of which were pleasant.
A few days ago, he had been the celebrated Lord of the Dune Light Hall, respected by all, but it was already a distant memory now.
Lord River had known this day would come, he had believed himself to be mentally prepared, yet it was only now Lord River knew he had been sorely mistaken, he had given himself much more credit than he deserved.
