The stench of decay hung in the air like a suffocating blanket. As we followed the gaunt man through the narrow streets of what he proudly called "Happy Witch Town," I couldn't help but notice the hollow-eyed stares from the few residents who dared peek through cracked windows or half-opened doors.
"This way, this way," our guide urged, his filthy coat flapping behind his skeletal frame. "The best inn in town isn't far."
I almost laughed at that. Best inn in this forgotten corner of misery? From what I could see, that was setting the bar terribly low.
The King's guards surrounded me, their cold presence a constant reminder of my captivity. I couldn't decide which was worse—being their prisoner or being in this godforsaken place.
