(CHRIS' POV)
I wake up feeling a cold, hard surface beneath me, a far cry from the softness of the inn's bed. My head feels heavy, like it's stuffed with cotton, and it takes me a moment to register that something's terribly wrong. I open my eyes slowly, expecting to see the familiar wooden ceiling of the inn, but instead, I'm greeted by darkness. Panic wells up in my chest as I push myself up to a sitting position. The ground beneath me is rough and unyielding—stone. My fingers trace the floor, confirming the gritty texture that tells me I'm not in the inn anymore.
When I finally manage to get to my feet, a chill runs through me, not just from the cold but from the realization that I'm in an entirely unfamiliar place. The air is damp and smells musty, like old iron and mildew. I look around frantically, squinting in the dim light. There's barely any illumination except for a faint, flickering glow coming from somewhere outside a set of steel bars. Bars that I'm standing behind.
