Julian
I followed the directions of the makeshift map Rosamund had given me, and in no time, I was at the east wing. It was exactly as Elowen had described it.
A long corridor, stone-walled and windowless, lit by a single torch at the entrance that cast more shadow than light. The air was different here. It was colder, thicker, carrying a faint smell that I couldn't place.
It wasn't decay or damp, it was more like something organic, as if someone had left an overripe fruit in a sealed room.
The corridor was deserted. There were no guards, servants or signs that anyone had walked this way today. Rosamund had kept her word. The East wing floor was completely empty.
I moved quickly, my boots silent on the floor. The doors I passed were all shut, their handles coated in a fine layer of dust. Guest rooms, perhaps, or unused storage chambers, sealed and forgotten. I tried two handles, but they were locked.
