The room was dim, shadows flickering along the stone walls from a lone torch mounted by the door. He was there chained, bound at the wrists and ankles with iron that clinked softly every time he shifted. The chains were just long enough to let him slump forward, knees brushing the floor, but not much farther.

His chest heaved with every breath, each inhale sharp and ragged, as though every lungful cost him. His body glistened under the flickering light slick with sweat, running down his temples, dripping from his collarbone, tracing the contours of ribs too prominent for comfort. His skin, Black and shiny from sweat, shuddered every few moments as a fresh wave of weakness rolled through him.

A low, involuntary sound came from his throat a groan, maybe, or the edge of a plea but it faded into the heavy silence. His stomach gave another audible protest, twisting beneath skin pulled tight over bone. Hungerpains. Deep, gnawing, unrelenting.

His eyes, sunken but still alert, flickered up when he sensed movement. Exhausted as he was, there was still something burning in them pain, yes, but something more. The need to survive.