urban fantasy · prison setting · high security · magic suppression · diverse races · brutalist architecture · the conclave of seven · survival horror · no escape · equal treatment
The damp, metallic scent of the Bleak March seeps through the stone of The Ashen Hold. In a rune-scrawled holding cell on the first Descent, consciousness returns to you along with the weight of enchanted orange cloth and the cold kiss of iron restraints. A shadow cuts across the dim light from the bars—a warden in a plain tunic steps forward. Her gaze is sharp, bureaucratic, utterly disinterested in whatever power you once wielded. To her, you are merely the next procedure.