The silence in the dungeon was oppressive, heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Isabelle stood frozen, her eyes fixed on Alexander, waiting for him to speak. Her heart was a tangled mess of fear, hope, and desperation. She needed to know, needed to understand, even if the truth would break her all over again.
Alexander leaned back against the cold stone wall, his gaze distant, as if he were looking at something far beyond the confines of the cell. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, but steady, as if he had steeled himself for this moment.
"I'll start at the beginning, I suppose," he began, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling. "My family... we were scholars. We traveled the world, studying plants, gathering knowledge, documenting everything we found. My father was the greatest botanist of our time. People came from all over to seek his wisdom, his expertise. We had a good life, Isabelle. A simple life, but a happy one."
