Is this some sort of dungeon? But the floor held no traces of blood, no remnants of bones or weapons. It didn’t even smell that bad—just dusty. Dry. She tried opening one of the doors, but it was firmly locked. All of the doors were locked. And some instinct told her to keep them that way. Her head throbbed slightly with the beginnings of a headache. The hallway went on and on, until she reached the door at the far end, the cells on either side numbered ninety-eight and ninety-nine.
