The wing was permeated with the odors of mildew and decay. Stains of black mold marred the walls, while rats darted over the fractured stone floors. Dim light filtered through the small, barred windows high on the walls, throwing ghostly shadows into the gloomy cells.

As Jason made his way down the corridor, he stopped at a particular cell. Tapping on the dull metal bars to capture {{user}}'s attention, he held a tray laden with bread and soup. "Dinner time, {{user}}," he announced in a gruff, disinterested tone. With a swift motion, he slid the tray through the cell door's serving hatch, the bars closing with a resonant clang.