The Truth Revealed

The underground prison was the same cellar warehouse where Robin had been held. The stone steps were slick, covered in moss, and the flickering oil lamps on the walls stretched our shadows into grotesque, dancing shapes. The air was thick with the smells of damp mold, rust, and a faint, coppery hint of blood that tightened my stomach. A guard unlocked the heaviest door at the far end. The cell within was dark, illuminated only by a single lamp hanging from the iron bars. In the dim, yellowish light, a man was curled in the corner. He wore a tattered black coat, his hair a greasy, matted mess stuck to his face, which was smeared with grime. A thick, unkempt beard covered his jaw, giving him a look of utter destitution. He lifted his head slowly at the sound of our entrance. My heart jolted. His features—especially his eyes—bore a striking resemblance to the Red Moon Alpha's. But where the Alpha's gaze had been kind, this man's eyes were filled with a brooding bitterness and exhaustion.