“Dungeon” is likely not the right word for the space, being as it is merely a well-polished cavern. Yet it feels correct, an underground inescapable series of rooms, intricately redesigned into a purpose of cruelty, rather than the random scattering of spaces in a cavern.
I am trapped here regardless of semantics, however, my arms shackled to the walls, my head hung low. From time to time I strain my neck, examining the room I am in. There is nothing but smooth stone and half-used furniture, and my head drops back to its resting position.
A man enters from an unseen doorway, one of the aristocrats imprisoning me here. He sips from a goblet, its contents the blood red of wine, and looks at me. His eyes are more curious than cruel, a gentle wonder behind their green irises.
“It’s been a long time since someone’s been down here, you know.”
I try to reply, but it comes out as mere sputters, my throat dry from lack of use and lack of water. He tips the goblet to my mouth, and I feel the sting of the alcohol as it slides down my throat. “I don’t,” I sputter out a hacking cough, “I don’t know why you’re keeping me here.”
Again, his eyes look with that curious mix of wonder. “Neither do I, my friend.”
“Then why can’t you let me go?”
He stands a moment, still examining me, thinking. “I know as little as you do, my friend.”
Without another utterance, he turns on his well-decorated heels, ignoring my panicked pleas as he leaves my sterile prison.