CLICK—SLAM.
The sound echoed through the underground chamber, the heavy metal door above opening, then closing, sealing fate behind it. Two sets of footsteps followed, descending the stone stairs with unhurried pace.
The man in the cell looked up.
His face was a ruin. Still bloodied, the wounds from the courtyard caked and dried, dirt and grime smeared across features that might once have been handsome.
His night in this hole had done nothing to improve his condition. His eyes, dull with exhaustion and something darker, tracked the approaching figures through the bars.
Then he saw her.
A goddess walking on earth.
A holy woman.
Blonde hair, pale as moonlight, cascading around a face that belonged in temples and holy paintings. Her features were serene, composed.
