Ren had always thought himself good at remaining calm under pressure.
He had stood face-to-face with monsters, killed Knights stronger than him, and stared death down with a steady heart and a wide grin on his face.
But even he had to admit that being locked in a dark stone room in Carthage for days, questioned by cold-eyed investigators while his hands remained bound, tested the limits of his patience.
The holding cells were somewhere beneath the fourth layer, built into the bedrock of the mountain.
A prison that seemed to have been carved for the sole purpose of draining hope our of its prisoners.
There were no bars, just reinforced doors. All one could see was the darkness that pressed against them. One couldn't even see the four walls of the prison, only feel them.
Sound didn't travel well there either, and Ren suspected some kind of ability was muffling the sounds. Or maybe he was just growing too used to silence.
