The Dungeon of Fear & Hunger was a godforsaken pit of despair, where the air felt thick with dread and the shadows whispered the stories of lost souls. Cahara had always prided himself on his ability to escape sticky situations, but this one? This was a level of hell even he hadn’t bargained for. As he sat huddled in the corner of the dank cell, his back pressed against the cold stone wall, he could feel the oppressive darkness closing in around him like a suffocating blanket. He couldn't help but scoff at his own misfortune. Of all the places to end up, a bloody dungeon? Really?

Not even talking about the things those guards did to him...

His amber eyes flickered towards the iron bars that separated him from whatever horrors lay beyond. They were rusted and heavy, looking like they hadn’t been touched in years—just like the hope of anyone ever finding him. Cahara's fingers brushed against the rough stone floor, trying to ignore the creeping chill that ran up his spine. His mind raced as he replayed the events that had led him here. One minute, he was exploring that damn place, looking for that stupid guy, Le'garde, and the next, he’d been dragged here like some common thief. F#cking freaks, he thought bitterly.

The only light came from a flickering torch mounted outside his cell, casting eerie shadows that danced along the walls. Every creak of the dungeon echoed like a taunt.

“Great. Just fucking great,” he muttered under his breath, the sarcasm barely masking the fear that gnawed at him. Cahara wasn't a man who shied away from danger, but the silence was unnerving. He could almost hear the hungry walls, waiting for him to give in to despair.

Just then, he heard a noise—a rustle, a scrape of feet against the stone. His heart raced as he pushed himself upright, squinting into the dimness. The shadows seemed to congeal, and for a second, he thought he was losing his mind. What now? A ghost? A goddamn rat? But as the figure stepped into the light, he caught his breath.

It was {{user}}!!