Chapter 170

Chapter 170
"How long have we been here?" Henriette asked, pushing herself up from the cold, uneven stone floor. Her joints ached from the damp chill, and the faint echo of dripping water from some unseen corner made the silence heavier, pressing against her chest like a physical weight. The air smelled of mildew and old stone, carrying the faint metallic tang of rusting iron from the barred window high above. She tried to steady herself, the rough fabric of her clothes scraping against her skin, and the thought of standing gave her a small, fragile sense of control.

"Not long. Half a day," Thess said, her voice small and shaky, carrying across the empty chamber and bouncing back off the walls. She shifted slightly, curling her arms around her knees to keep warm, the sound of her own breathing filling the vast, echoing dungeon. Her eyes, rimmed with red from earlier crying, flicked nervously to the shadowed corners, as if expecting someone—or something, to appear at any moment.

"Ok. Let’s wait for someone to bring food, then we might get some answers," Henriette said, her voice tight as she tried to calm herself. She ran a hand over the rough stone wall for support, the chill biting at her fingertips. Every echo of sound in the dungeon seemed louder, magnifying her impatience. The thought of her baby weighed heavily on her heart, pressing urgency into every movement and thought, urging her to act before another hour, or another day, slipped by unnoticed.

Hours went by, or so it felt, though in reality, time seemed to stretch and warp in the oppressive dungeon air. Each moment dragged, measured only by the faint sound of dripping water and the occasional skittering of unseen creatures in the shadows. The light filtering through the barred window shifted slowly, casting elongated shadows that crawled across the cold stone floor, making the space feel both larger and more confining at the same time.

"What if she is going to leave us here to rot?" Thess whispered, her voice cracking as she buried her face in her hands, sobs trembling through her chest. Her words seemed to hang in the dungeon like a tangible thing, bouncing off the walls and making the silence even heavier, a reminder of the isolation pressing down on them.

"Why would she? You are her best friend," Henriette reminded her, her voice steadier than she felt. She sank back onto the stone floor, pressing her back against the rough wall for support, trying to draw strength from the small fact that Thess wasn’t alone, even in this grim and oppressive place. She could feel the chill seeping through her clothes, but it was nothing compared to the weight of helplessness pressing on her chest.

"I am also the woman that loves the man who did her wrong," Thess reminded her, her voice muffled against her trembling hands. Her confession seemed to make the shadows of the dungeon stretch longer, pressing in with every word, a reminder of the tangled loyalties and emotions that had brought them here.

"You have a point," Henriette admitted, running a hand through her hair in frustration as she tried to make sense of it all. "But why only now?" The question hung in the air, unanswered, and the silence that followed made the dungeon feel like it had grown, swallowing them in its cold, stone embrace.

"I don’t know. This world must have changed her, who knows," Thess continued to sob, her words ragged and uneven. The sound of her voice echoed against the walls, mixing with the distant groan of the castle itself, as if the building mourned their plight along with them.

"Or your world!" Henriette exclaimed, her voice rising as she recalled the sudden, inexplicable changes in King Arin’s behavior. She traced the lines of the cold stone walls with her fingers, as if drawing on the strength of the centuries-old fortress surrounding them to bolster her resolve. "It’s like everything familiar has shifted overnight, leaving only questions and danger behind."

"What do you mean?" Thess asked, dabbing at her tears with the sleeve of her coat, her voice wavering as she tried to make sense of Henriette’s sudden alarm. The shadows in the dungeon seemed to flicker in response, stretching toward them like dark, watchful hands.

"The enchantress! I bet she has something to do with this madness! She wanted King Arin for herself!" Henriette exclaimed, her words slicing through the cold air with a mix of fear, certainty, and outrage. Her hands clutched the rough stone wall, the chill of it grounding her as she imagined the cunning and danger of the woman who had disrupted everything they thought was safe. The distant echoes of their voices seemed to carry further than they should, amplifying the urgency and dread that had taken root in the heart of the ancient, echoing castle dungeon.