CHAPTER EIGHTY EIGHT – A DUNGEON OF SLAVES

The following night, armed with a stolen lantern and a growing sense of trepidation, they crept through the silent mansion. They navigated the labyrinthine corridors with practiced ease, their movements honed by days of cleaning and observing. Reaching the service pantry, they found a rickety wooden door hidden behind a pile of cleaning supplies. With trembling hands, Scarlett pushed it open, revealing a narrow, cobweb-draped staircase that plunged into darkness. "Ready?" Clara asked, her voice barely a whisper. Scarlett took a deep breath. "As ready as we'll ever be." Together, they descended the creaking steps, the lantern casting flickering shadows on the damp stone walls. The descent felt like an eternity, each groan of the old wood sending shivers down their spines. Finally, they reached the bottom, their feet landing on a cold, uneven floor. The air hung heavy with the smell of dust and something… else. A metallic tang that made Scarlett's stomach churn. Holding the lan