Novelas y relatos de Inside Dungeon Bran Castle

The spell casters open up a link of communication between everyone so that way we don’t have to communicate out loud. Everyone, be on your guard. Make your way slowly to the palace. Alpha Brock rumbles through the channel. The children are down in the dungeons. There is a stairwell off the throne room that leads directly there. Siobhan informs us. Everyone nods as we begin to make our way towards the front of Scàthach’s palace, which is black and Gothic in style with gargoyles carved into the stone. We are almost to the doors of the palace when a voice calls out.

There is a new vibe in this castle. So many new, rapidly promoted Rising Star Beta Guards lurking around every corner. Outnumbering White Forest and Shadowlands substantially. I remember visiting this castle often as a child. Luna Hollie and Brandon always made it warm and inviting. The fixtures are all more lavish than White Forest. More marble, gold, and brighter, bigger windows should make it less cold. Except it feels like a morgue now. Talon is clawing away with anxiety. I trust Maddox to protect her, but we need to get out of here. It didn’t help that when Cillian led me towards the dungeon to interview the arrested men, we found Phillipe in one of the cells.

Dorian's holographic projection unfurled across the flagstones. It was a complete three-dimensional rendering of the sewer system. Every pipeline's direction, diameter, and water depth mapped out in coded colors. A blood-red line traced the path to the Alpha City castle dungeon. It started at an abandoned wellhead two kilometers east of the manor and ended at the third underground level beneath the castle's west wing. Three harsh, glaring red crosses slashed across the line. "The Three Lords have deployed three layers of sentries around the castle perimeter." Dorian's mechanical voice crackled from the communicator. Each word sounded like a tightly compressed sheet of iron.

Imagining her alone and cold, I gathered a blanket and bundled it up to take to her. After finding the heaviest blanket I could, I poked my head out of the door and made sure that there was no one to witness me leaving. I saw the coast was clear and walked as silently as I could down the corridor to make my way outside. The dungeon only had one door, and it was at the very back of the castle. It went deep into the ground and was lit by torches. There was one guard at the entrance now that it had a prisoner inside, and the guard let me enter without question.

She’s always watching, always calculating, and yet she manages to play the part of the wide-eyed maiden perfectly. And Thrystan... Thrystan is blind to it. He falls for her every time, enamored by the illusion she presents, wrapped up in the delusion he calls love. But I see through her. The tall, scaly walls of the dungeon rise from the valley like a sinister fortress, looming larger as we approach. The place reeks of damp stone and desperation, its dark silhouette made clearer by the flickering torchlight scattered around the grounds. “Do you want the men on watch to know you're here, or shall I sneak you in?” Brax asks as we dismount behind a tree, his voice a low murmur in the stillness

Stairs were behind the door. Rhobart pulled the hood of his cloak over his head. “Let’s free my n’alxa and Paladin,” he said before going up the stairs. At the top of the stairs was a door made of wood. Rhobart tried opening it, but when it wouldn’t budge, he kicked it as hard as he could, breaking it. The door led to the castle’s basement. Drax followed Rhobart. “Let’s go to the dungeons!”

If Alden is too stupid to use it to better his kingdom, he doesn’t deserve to have it. For the next few hours, I pore over the map of the castle I’ve obtained from someone who used to work there. It’s a roughly drawn illustration, but if it’s correct, it will be useful. I know where the war room is, the throne room, and the royal family’s private chambers. I also know that there’s a tunnel beneath the castle that allegedly leads to a safe room located a few stories below the castle and tucked into the mountains south of here. It doesn’t matter where she hides. I will find her.

I went to the Throne Room. I didn't sit on the throne. I stood in front of the empty dais. "I need to see Cian," I told the guard at the door. The guard hesitated. "Your Majesty, he is in the high-security dungeon. It's not a place for a lady." "I'm not a lady," I said. "I'm the woman who blew up the front door of his last stronghold. Open the cell." *** The dungeon was cold, damp, and smelled like mold and regret. It was five floors below the castle, carved directly into the bedrock.

A lantern’s glow cut a slice across the shadowed aisle. “Thornridge business,” a voice called, smooth and thin. “If anyone’s inside, step out where I can see you.” It was Bran. Of course. He came in first, lifting the lantern, the shadows shifting with him. Two wolves slid behind him, Lowell and Dane, they were quiet, hands twitching near their knives. Bran’s gaze swept the room once, quick, catching everything: the bodies, the blood, the broken windows. His mouth tilted in a smug look, like he was expecting trouble and was happy he found it.

Then she muttered with a trembling voice, "I'm not even sure anyone could live in there." Accompanied by five guards, Triana entered the castle, which was filled with thick cobwebs and flying bats. Two guards carried lanterns to illuminate their pitch-black path. They descended the stairs until they reached the dungeon. The Grivin reopened the map that was sketched on a piece of paper by the witch. Then he led the way to an iron door with a small barred window in the middle. "This is his prison," Grivin whispered. Triana nodded. Her heart didn't stop pounding, and it only grew louder as they walked farther into the ominous castle.