The stench was unbearable. It clung to the damp air inside the cell, curling through the cracks in the stone walls like a grotesque reminder of what had transpired. Kenneth’s body lay motionless, chained to the wall where he had endured endless days of torment. The guards had kept their word—he had not been allowed the dignity of release, even in death.
The first to notice was one of the lower-ranked guards, Marcus, who had been assigned the morning shift. He wrinkled his nose the moment he stepped into the corridor leading to Kenneth’s cell. The smell of rot hit him like a wall, thick and pungent, mixing with the dampness of the prison’s underground chambers. His stomach churned.
“Ugh, what the hell is that?” Marcus muttered, waving his hand in front of his face as he approached the cel
