Amelia looks over the prisoner’s posture, he sits curled inward with his knees drawn close to his chest, his shoulders slumped heavily forward. One arm loosely wraps around his legs while is head tilts downward. His expression is weary and haunted, with deep shadows beneath his eyes and a gaunt face partially hidden beneath long tangled strands of wet dark hair. A scraggly beard covers his jaw and chin. His skin looks pate and dirty, smeared with mud, bruises and grime. The dim lighting accentuates every contour of his thin body, making the bones in his arms, shoulders and legs starkly visible. Behind him, iron chains are fastened to the wall, suggesting he may once have been restrained there.Nearby sits a small clay jug and a shallow bowl, likely for water or food. There object appear old and neglected, and Amelia can’t help but feel sorry for the man. “Mestre Escuro,” the prisoner said with a hoars voice. “He sent you?” a spark of hope i
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