đ.đ: Interrogation chamber
đhe corridor leading to the interrogation room was cold, dimly lit, and unwelcoming. Its stone walls exuded the same oppressive chill that clung between Raphael and Elysia like a second skin.
Each torch along the hallway flickered uncertainly, casting their shadows in long, warping shapes, as if the very castle itself was holding its breath.
Their footsteps echoed in tandem, sharp against the aged stone, until Raphael suddenly stopped just before the door.
Elysia slowed to a halt, one brow already raised.
He turned to her, face composed, every line carefully arranged like a noble statueâbut his eyes⊠they twitched.
Not from nerves, but from something darker. Shame? Guilt? No. Not quite. It was frustration. Swallowed pride. The kind of anger that festered when one knew they were about to bow before someone who had the power to crush them.
