When nothing assaulted her -  neither sight nor sound  - she lit a blue-bell flame within cupped palms and ventured further into the darkness. The room around her slowly came to shape; the wall to her right made from ancient brick, slanted windows being the only way out and even those were barred with iron; the wall to her left was patterned with multiple eye-bolts for chains and their prisoners, and the multitude of them brought images of a battalion interred here forevermore. It was the wall in front of her that mattered though, and the sullen occupant sitting propped up against it.