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Prologue

It was cold and dark and smelled of mold in the cell, and Menciell couldn’t remember when he last saw sunlight. It was impossible to keep track of the days without any windows, but it felt like years. He breathed into his open palms, letting the small flames that resided there grow for a moment. His cell mates, Nitress and Fawller, crowded around him, trying to get as much warmth as they could from the miniscule fire. When Menciell first joined the two other criminals in their little stone cell his flame was enough to keep them all warm as a massive bonfire, but his strength was almost gone. The fire now flickered and died if he didn’t concentrate, the pain in his empty stomach distracting him.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the dungeon. Fawller, a short man with dark hair and hollow brown eyes, pulled himself away from the hope of warmth, dragging himself to the iron bars. Nitress, a medium sized man, who had obviously been obese before imprisonment, followed close behind, moving slower but trying to catch up. Menciell, having been there the least amount of time, moved faster, and was able to push the other two out of his way as he passed them to the bars.
The guard, stocky and tall, wearing all black leather, passed a small tray of food down through the bottom bars. Menciell grabbed it and stuffed a loaf of bread, moldy and full of insects into his mouth. He left the water, but grabbed the small chunk of cheese and stumbled into the corner of the cell. He fell into the darkness, facing the wall, using his body as a shell to protect his food from the others.
Heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor of the dungeon again, which had never before happened for these three. Nitress and Fawler reached their scrawny arms through the iron bars, grabbing at the guard that had stopped before the bars.
“Menciell Dewson?” the guard asked. He had longer dark hair, which sloped and fell over one eye. He shook his head, trying to knock the lock from his vision.
Menciell stopped eating, turning, looking over his shoulder at the guard. His eyes widened and filled with tears as he saw the guard. He stood, dropping the cheese and stumbling towards the bars.
He fell forward, catching himself on the bars, “Trist! Is it really you?” he asked, stroking the man’s hair with one filthy hand.
“Yeah.” Trist whispered; a finger to his lips, “Sorry it’s taken so long; we haven’t been able to figure out a way to get you out.”
“You’re here now,” Menciell smiled, his rotting teeth shining in the darkness, “that’s what counts. I…I’m so weak. I don’t know if I’d be able to leave even if you figured out a way.”
“How’s your fire?” Trist asked, worry in his sparkling blue eyes.
Menciell blew into his palms, relighting his fire, only for it to extinguish itself a moment later. “Just embers.” He explains.
Trist put his hand on Menciell’s shoulder, reassuringly, “Not to worry. We’ll break you out even without your abilities. We’ve got it all planned out.
Trist turned as an opening door creaked loudly down the hall, “Oh s**t that will be the guards. We’ll be coming for you, tomorrow, count on it!”
Menciell reached out as Trist ran down the hall. Hope soared through him as a beacon, and his body finally felt warm in the dark tone cell. Fire crackled within him as he suddenly felt energized, but he decided not to use any of his strength. Best to keep it inside and not share the warmth with the others. If what Trist had said was true, and he were to be rescued, he would need all of the strength he had and more.

I sort of want to know whether or not his cell mates are paying any attention. Are they completely preoccupied with fighting over food, or are they glancing back at him with suspicious looks? I want to know if I need to be worrying about them, even if Menciell and Trist don't notice anything. Also--is the guard important later? This could just be my opinion, but the description seems unneeded, especially if all their attention has been captured by the food he's sliding through the door.

There are a few specific words I would change as follows:
His eyes widened and filled with tears as he recognized the guard.
"Just embers," he explained.
...finally felt warm in the dark-toned cell. (Although, in this case, I would probably omit the -toned and change dark to something more specific, like gloomy or dank. But it's up to you)

And I would omit the "and more" on the last line.

I hope that helps! 3nodding