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... s underbelly, a door opened.

They were implements of torture themselves, the dungeon’s doors. Each opened resentfully, with squealing wails that seemed to echo through the halls forever. If I had managed to find a rare period of thoughtless sleep, one without nightmares, the opening of one of those iron-hinged monsters would drag me back into the filthy cell.

More than the sound itself was what it promised. Each time men came, they dragged one of the other prisoners away. I could ...

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