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Chapter 15: The Circle
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... d, his wrists bleeding, his breathing ragged. The air in the dungeon was damp, thick with the odors of mildew and rust. Ghosts of shadow danced on the walls, formed by the dim, guttering torch in the corner.
He flexed his fingers, feeling the raw flesh burn, the metal biting into his bones. He had been here too long, felt the cold seep into his skin, heard the distant screams of the others who never made it out.
Not me. I'll make it.
He closed his eyes, picturing Margo. H ...
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