ARIA POINT OF VIEW

The footsteps outside my cell did not leave.

They multiplied.

What began as a single echo became many, heavy boots striking stone in uneven rhythm, overlapping until the dungeon no longer felt abandoned but crowded with intention. The air itself seemed to tighten. Metal clinked sharply somewhere beyond the corridor bend, followed by low voices murmuring in tense urgency, words too quiet to understand but heavy with purpose.

Orders.

Preparation, not routine.

Something was ...