165: Doom

Rune’s POV

I slowly came to consciousness, a soft warmth enveloped me, contrasting sharply with the cold stone beneath my back. I blinked against the dim light filtering into the dungeon-like chamber, my senses gradually sharpening.

It didn’t take long for the realization to set in: I was not alone. Alora was pressed against my side, her skin warm and bare against mine, her delicate form molded to me as if we were two pieces of a puzzle.

My heart raced as I absorbed the scene around us. The heavy iron bars of a cell loomed just a few feet away, casting long shadows that danced in the flickering light of torches mounted on the walls.

The air was thick and musty, a stark reminder of the grim surroundings. Panic surged through me. Where the hell were we?

Why am I always getting locked these days?

I tried to sit up, but Alora stirred beside me, her body shifting slowly, her face scrunching up as if she were grappling with the remnants of a dream.

“Rune?” she murmured, her voice hoars