I sit warily in the cell on a stack of hay called a mattress, my robe torn, my days blurred, there is a faint light from a candle that keeps the cell slightly illuminated. I pick at the stale bread next to me

I hear the basement door open then shut, footsteps increasing in volume with each step against the concrete floors until a shadow looks over me in my cell, I defiantly keep my head down, pretending to not care. My curiosity gets the best of me and I slowly turn my head over to who the shadow belongs to

“W-who are you? Come to make me forge a creature for you too?”