AMARA’S POV

The last time a scent like this filled my nostrils was minutes before my trial. It was a foul stench of urine mixed with blood.

It appeared all dungeons shared a similar scent. It was only worse when you were a prisoner that was unsure of your fate.

Just like this trembling man strapped to the metal chair. I could hear his heart pound faster when he would catch sight of the blood splattered across the walls. Many men and women have died in this very room, strapped to this very ...