The heavy door to the prison cell groaned as it opened, metal scraping against metal in a sound that echoed through the underground dungeon. Kastiel stepped inside without hesitation, his boots striking the stone floor with steady, deliberate steps.
The bodyguard closed the door immediately after him.
The lock slid into place with a loud, final clank.
Inside the cell, the air was thick and heavy with the stench of blood, damp stone, and something feral that lingered in the shadows. The dim lights barely reached the far end of the enclosure, where massive shapes lay unmoving, their breathing slow and unnatural.
Kastiel did not look back.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small knife, the same one he had taken from a guard earlier.
Without hesitation, he sliced his palm open.
The cut was shallow but clean. Blood welled instantly, dark and warm, slipping past his fingers and dripping onto the stone floor below. The scent spread through the cell almost immediately.
