The dungeon smelled like something had died here—a long, slow, agonizing death that had seeped into the walls and floors. The only light came from a few flickering fire torches, their orange glow casting eerie shadows across the old, damp stone. The air was thick with the stench of decay, and I had to fight the urge to gag. The dungeon’s stone walls were grimy and covered in a film of mold, and the floor was uneven with patches of stagnant water.

Zion’s voice broke through the ...