“Your sister?” she repeats.
I nod, swallowing past the thick lump in my throat. Is she going to drag me to Seferin? Kill me herself?
“Analla…” I start.
“Analla?” Recognition sweeps over her face, and her grip slackens.
My eyes expand. “Yes!” I whisper, nodding eagerly. “Do you know her?”
She releases me at once, her gaze darting down the hall. “You need to leave.”
I freeze, even though everything in me tells me to do as she says. “Where is she?”
“Look, I am telling you now that you need to leave. If someone else finds out you’re her sister, they’ll lock you up like they’ve done to her.”
Lock me up?
My stomach tightens into knots as she starts to turn away. “Hey—wait!” I plead. “If she’s here somewhere, can you just take me to her? I don’t care what happens. I need to see her. Please.”
The woman halts and lowers her head, letting out a long exhale. She then looks down both ways of the lengthy hallway before approaching me again.
“Fine,” she grumbles. “I’ll show you to it, but you need to keep quiet.”
I nod and follow her lead. She takes rapid steps through the hallway before turning a corner and approaching a red door, gesturing to it.
“She’s down there, in the dungeon.” The woman clenches her jaw briefly, stepping away. “You’re on your own from here.”
My mouth becomes drier. The woman looks frightened as she backs away.
“Thank you,” I tell her, grabbing the doorknob.
“You’re lucky I liked Analla.” With that, she scurries away.
I face the door and twist the knob, opening it slowly. Darkness yawns below, broken only by floating red orbs that shine on a slick staircase. Another lump forms in my throat. I try swallowing past it as I take the first step down.
I’m consumed by darkness when I finally reach the bottom of the stairs but find only a sliver of relief when I turn the corner and see another row of floating lanterns.
I pick up my pace. The air grows colder with every step, heavier, thick with rot and damp stone.
I gag as a horrid smell hits me.
Oh gods.I should turn back. I don’t even know what I’m walking into. And that woman could be lying. I might be stumbling my way into a trap.
But what if Anallaisdown here?
That tiny whisper of a question keeps me going.
Heart pounding, I continue, passing several cells occupied with prisoners who are hardly clinging to life. Other cells are empty but have piles of ash and bones. I gulp when it dawns on me that the ashes are that of the dead.
My anxiety heightens as I pass cell after cell, until I finally see a familiar body lying on the floor in one of them.
“Analla,” I whisper.
Her eyes snap open.
Orvena’s sake.
She looks awful, her face hollowed, brown skin ashen, and the coils in her hair matted to her head.
