How could there be no one?
The sole of Moulin's boot scraped the cold, filthy stone floor as he took one step forward. He swept throughout the area as he began to advance inside. The smell was more pungent, filthier. As if it was a ditch to dispose of both human and animal carcasses. Pairs of chained cuffs were embedded on the walls. The floor inside the cells was stained with patches of red. Blood. Moulin resisted imagining the life of their imprisoned men under these thick rocks. However, he had grasped the fact that none of them lived without suffering in this horrible place.
Emlen's face turned distorted as he followed behind his little brother. His fists clenched as he realized. They that there was not a single soul within each cell. Were they... too late?
Suddenly, Moulin ceased his steps. His head turned slightly, looking behind his shoulder.
"You."