Drip—drop!
Blood fell onto the water, its echo crisp and clear.
Tiny, frail shadows instantly gathered over the murky, putrid water gleaming a ghastly green. They devoured the drop of blood, then scattered again in an instant.
The torture rack, half-submerged in the water, was mottled with age and had clearly been there for many years. If one quieted the mind, it seemed possible to hear cries of misery still lingering. The wretched souls it had tormented in the past had added luster to its power, becoming fresh instruments of torture.
Hanging from the rack was someone whose features could no longer be made out, slumped there like a lump of dead flesh crawling with maggots.
Then, at some point, the stone-barred door above was pushed open. Rough hinges groaned, and the torture rack slowly rose, ascending from the pitch-black Water Prison into a dim dungeon.
In every sense of the phrase, this counted as an "upgrade in accommodations."
The structure of this dungeon was unusual as well. Its four sides were solid walls, utterly cutting off all sound from the Outside World. Only at the very center of the ceiling was there a hole as thick as a finger, through which a sliver of heavenly light fell. That beam of light seemed especially hazy in the darkness... like freedom and hope, visible yet forever beyond reach.
That single sliver of light naturally could not contend with the darkness, so there was also a wall lamp in the dungeon—a tiny orange porcelain bowl rested inside an altar-like niche. A white wick, like a graceful lady with a lovely figure, stood in half a bowl of oil, giving off a bean-sized glow.
"Do I need to introduce myself?" A voice suddenly sounded in the dungeon.
Only after that voice rang out