#northkingdoms

He had considered challenging the lady Sivna to a duel, but he quickly dismissed the idea. Even if she agreed, if Ganlin won that fight, nothing would stop any of the other soldiers from attacking him, and the duel would do nothing but draw out his death.

A more subdued approach would have to be taken, Ganlin realized. Perhaps he could draw away some soldiers, take them in as many small groups as he could, draw them away from the skal if possible, string them along on a path of death, resting only when he absolutely had to.

Ganlin grew more confident as he thought over his plan, and kept going over it in his mind, trying to make it more solid, making sure he was thinking of everything that he could.

After another hour of walking past sunset, Ganlin found a small clearing to rest in. Laying against the trunk of a tree, his small companion flew from his shoulder and perched atop one of the branches above, its unblinking eyes watching the clearing.

The creature’s artificial gaze was discomforting for Ganlin, his skin crawling as he noticed that its eyes glowed softly in the night. Turning over to ignore it, he eventually fell asleep.

As had become normal for Ganlin, he dreamed throughout the night. He had many different dreams, but there was only one that he could remember come the morning.

He was walking through a settlement that looked like what was essentially a larger version of the skal that he was headed towards in his waking life. It was the morning after some great disaster, fresh evidence of it all around him. Most of the many buildings were completely destroyed, the few that were still left standing having still suffered great damage, with scarred walls, collapsed roofs, and shattered doors.

Rain had come recently, within the last couple of hours, Ganlin thought. The sky was still cloudy, and puddles of water were dotted around the main pathway.

Ganlin walked along the lonely pathway. Any survivors of the disaster were already long gone, fleeing the night before.

As he walked, it was much like when he had first started dreaming with Myrlarn: he didn’t know quite where he was going, but some force drew him forward, as if his body knew where to go, even though his mind did not.

He took himself to the edge of the skal, and he turned into the wreckage of a building, the parts of the roof that hadn’t fallen sagging downwards. With what little was left of it, it was impossible to tell what the purpose of the building had been before its destruction. Everything, including the floor itself, was blackened, almost like a great fire had burned everything, Ganlin thought.

Immediately, the uncanny instinct that is always present in dreams told Ganlin that he had thought correctly. There had been a fire the previous night, and it had raged from building to building, burned the entire skal down to ashes. More than that, he had been there for the fire, hadn’t he been? Why couldn’t he remember?

There was a quick parting to the clouds, and something glinted in the dull ray of light that shone down, before the sunlight was swallowed by the clouds again.

Ganlin walked forward, and picked up the object that had glinted. It was a piece of something, pottery that had been destroyed by the building collapsing. Compelled by finding the object, Ganlin knelt down and moved around the debris, picking out pieces that he knew were a part of the art.

He couldn’t explain why, but he felt compelled to find every piece, to reorganize them, to catch even a glimpse of what beauty the work beheld before its destruction. His hands moved with haste, quickly grabbing the pieces that he saw. Once he had retrieved enough pieces, he began putting them back together on the floor; lining up each jagged piece to see what the original work was.

As he worked, the artwork upon the pottery began to reveal itself. It seemed to be a depiction of a battle, fought between a group of warriors and some great beast, with wicked claws that were twice as long as a person was tall. It’s body was long and wavy, seeming to be hovering above the air by using a pair of ferocious-looking wings. Something about the artwork seemed familiar to Ganlin, as if he had seen it before. Before the fire had come. Why did this place seem so familiar to him? Why did he feel as if the skal were so familiar, he’d never been here before, it was just a dream, wasn’t it?

No, Ganlin thought to himself. This is no dream, this is my home.

Yes, that must have been it. This was his home, his pottery, his artwork. That had to be it. Everyone else had fled, but he had to come back, to see the damage that had been wrought on his home. He had to see if there was anything after last night, after the attack from the… from the..

The what?

Ganlin abandoned his work of restoring the art as the ground shook beneath him. Almost as if the foundations of the world itself did not want him to remember what had happened, to know the truth.

The ground around him began to crack, and fully immersed in the dream as he was, Ganlin ran from the wreckage of his home and out of the skal. The ground let out a mighty groan as it shook again, throwing Ganlin off his feet and face first into the wet dirt.

Ganlin flipped himself over, onto his back, and watched in horror as the ground split, not just around his home, but the entire skal. The destroyed settlement was raised upward as the ground lifted itself, then began to slope.

Ganlin followed the slope upwards with his eyes, watching the skal disappear as it rose up further and further away from him. Ganlin moved his eyes even farther upward, towards the mountaintop. There he saw a humble building of stone that looked to be as old as the mountain itself. It rose further into the sky, above the clouds themselves.

LUDILAKIR

The name rang throughout his mind, his body, his very soul. Existence itself became agony as he watched the mountain raise itself upwards, ever upwards, refusing to halt its progress towards the stars.

He remembered now, the skal had burned because of him. It was his fault that everything had fallen into ruin. He had caused the fire. Yes, that was it. Memories came upon him like a sudden gust of wind that threw sand into one’s face. The entirety of the skal burning like a torch in the night, a beacon of ruin to all those who saw it.

LUDILAKIR. IT AWAKENS AT LUDILAKIR.

Something was happening. The mountain was shaking as well, almost as if it were no longer capable of supporting its own unknowable height. Something terrible was going to happen. Was happening. Had happened. Set in motion, no longer able to be stopped. The destruction was Ganlin’s fault. The destruction was Ganlin. Right? No, that couldn’t be it. The destruction was-

A scream tore through the air, a sound so sharp it ripped the sky apart like a sharp blade through fabric. Ganlin screamed with it, becoming one with the sound of rage itself. Reality collapsed, folding in on itself.

Ganlin awoke shaking, his body covered in sweat. He tried to breathe, but it felt like his lungs were too small. His body was shaking, he held onto the tree had been resting against as he spasmed uncontrollably, the memories and feelings of the dreams haunting him.

After what felt like years, Ganlin stopped shaking, and breathing became more and more easy. He unwrapped his arm from around the tree, still keeping a hand on it to lean against as he stood up.

Hearing a small chirping noise near him, he turned and saw some alchts, looking like a more natural version of the one he was traveling with.

There were three of them, standing on the ground, staring up at him with their large, strangely shaped eyes. Discomforted by their stares, Ganlin offered them a small nod of his head. They kept staring at him. No, staring above him.

Ganlin’s conjured companion hopped down from the branches, landing on the ground closer to Ganlin than to the other creatures.

The conjured one chirped, and the other ones chirped back, but nervously. A few seconds passed, then the false chirp again, this time to no reply.

Ganlin’s small companion took a tentative hop forward. The others screeched and raised their wings before turning around and flying away. The conjured alcht looked up at Ganlin.

Ganlin sighed and bent down, offering his hand for the creature to jump on.

“Come on, little creature.” He said, raising his hand back up to his shoulder, allowing it to perch.

“It seems like the only friends either of us have out here is each other.”

With the alcht on his shoulder, Ganlin continued on his way through the large forest. He tried to pet the alcht, but it just pecked at his hand whenever he reached towards it.

The second day passed slower than the first, Ganlin running on sleep that had not been as restful as he had hoped it would be. He rested often throughout the day, trying to take small naps, but unable to. Every time he closed his eyes he would see that terrible, wretched mountain. His diet was poor, eating the berries that his reptilian companion would pick at as they rested, as he figured that if the alcht was picking them they’d be safe to eat. He always ate very little though, just to be safe.

Walking was lonely, so Ganlin began talking to the alcht that remained perched upon his left shoulder.

“I walked for many days to get here from Ank’har. I didn’t speak much then, but then again, I had no one to talk to there.” He looked towards the alcht as he stepped over a fallen tree.

“Hopefully you don’t mind me talking to you, do you?”

The alcht just stared back, its strange eyes unblinking. Ganlin was the one to break the staring contest.

“Guess you do mind. Sorry.”

Ganlin stared forward as he kept walking, painfully aware of the fact that the alcht’s unblinking eyes continued to stare at him. Ganlin spoke without turning to it.

“Stop staring at me like that, it’s unsettling.”

His words seemed to do nothing for the bird, which kept looking at him anyway. Ganlin sighed and just tried to ignore the thing, which became exceptionally difficult the longer he tried to ignore it.

The thing disturbed him. It was a conjured animal, a false creature. It was true that upon a first impression, especially if were a quick one, then the thing on Ganlin’s shoulder would look normal: Just a man with an alcht, strange, but apparently nothing too unusual. Upon closer inspection though, the more the imperfections and irregularities became visible. Since Ganlin had nothing to really look at other than the alcht, he had become very aware of all the tiny odd things about it. Like how some of its scales went in the wrong direction, or how one eye was differently shaped than the other, how sometimes its nostrils would just disappear for a time. The red afterimages had mostly disappeared, but Ganlin still noticed them from time to time. Ganlin tried his best to ignore the strangeness, and the entire creature altogether, but it was difficult to do so. The journey was incredibly solitary, and due to the rush that Ganlin was in, he didn’t have the time to really interact with anything other than the strange creature, even if a shiver went down his spine every single time that he looked at it.

A few hours past midday, Ganlin was resting in a clearing, watching the alcht as it attempted to socialize with a brood of other alchts, even though they were clearly different species.

As he watched its struggle, Ganlin remembered a conversation he had with his father many years ago, when he was a boy, scared of the shelbaks that one could sometimes find on the beaches of an Osae. Most of the other kids paid them no mind, and some would chase after them, trying to catch them, but Ganlin would not, could not. Something about the way they moved seemed so unnatural to him, and as such he always stayed far away from them. The conversation with his father that he was thinking about happened one day, after some other children ran through the tents, parading a shelbak they had killed, its swinging legs scaring Ganlin enough to make him hide away and cry. Shortly after he had begun sobbing, his father found him, and sat with Ganlin, comforting him with an arm across his back.

“What is wrong, Ganlin?” His father asked, his face creased with worry. “Why do you waste water crying?”

Ganlin tried swallowing down his tears, the shame of being found crying making him want to cry even more.

“Kanra and some other kids ran by with a dead shelbak. And-and, and it scared me.”

Ganlin’s face was red with shame by the time he had finished speaking. His entire life he had wanted to become a warrior, like his father. Warriors never got scared! And they certainly never cried, either! At this point, Ganlin would never get to be a warrior. The thought was enough to start his lip trembling again.

Ganlin’s father began moving his hand in tiny circles around Ganlin’s back, and the simple touch went a long way in calming Ganlin down.

“Now, my child, it’s okay. Just take deep breaths, you will be okay.” Hearing the words from his father’s mouth was enough to make Ganlin believe it. “Do you know why the shelbaks frighten you so?”

Ganlin shook his head no in answer. Ganlin’s father hummed a small song, something he often did while in thought.

“Come with me to the waters, Ganlin.”

Nervous, but always quick to listen to his father, Ganlin followed him, sitting next to his fathers on the sand, only a few strides away from the water.

“Now look, Ganlin.” His father said, pointing his finger. “Do you see that shelbak, right over there, by the waters?”

Ganlin looked where his father pointed, and immediately clutched a hand around his father’s arm as he saw the shelbak.

“Y-yes. I see it, father.”

“Okay, good.” His father replied. “Now, I want you to do something for me. Name it.”

Ganlin looked up at his father.

“Huh?”

“You heard me, Ganlin. Give it a name.”

Ganlin looked at the shelbak, as hard as that was to do, and thought of a name.

“Kairig.” Ganlin said, naming it after one of the other children that he didn’t like.

His father laughed at that.

“Come on, Ganlin. Don’t name it after someone you don’t like. Be nice, give it a nice name.”

Ganlin harrumphed, but did as was asked of him. He settled on the name of one of the cloth-weavers, who had always been nice to him.

“Sitaza!” He said. His father nodded.

“Yes, that’s a good name. Well done Ganlin. Now, look again at Sitaza. Does the shelbak look quite as scary, now that you know its name?”

Ganlin looked again at the shelbak, and Ganlin realized that no, it wasn’t as scary. Sure, it was a weird shape, and the way its legs move was gross, but he didn’t feel as scared of it.

“No, I guess not.” Ganlin said, his answer making his father smile.

“That’s good. Do you know why I made you name it, Ganlin?”

Ganlin shook his head honestly.

“Well,” his father began. “It’s because when something is scary, or worrying, it’s almost always because we never really understand it. You don’t like shelbaks because they move differently from the way you think they should, and you don’t understand why they move so differently, and so that makes you fear them. Now that you know their name, though, maybe you can understand them a bit better. Do you understand what I’m saying, Ganlin?”

Ganlin nodded very enthusiastically at his father.

“Yeah, things with names aren’t scary!”

His father laughed.

“Close enough. I’m proud of you for overcoming a fear today, my child. There are many things in life that will scare you, but I know you’ll be strong enough to face them.”

“I can do anything if it’s with you!” Ganlin shouted happily, no longer worried about the shelbak. His father simply smiled and hugged Ganlin close.

Ganlin wiped at his eyes as he thought of the memory, rubbing at them since they were stinging for some reason.

Ganlin stood up and walked over to the alcht as the others hopped away, wanting nothing to do with them.

“Ready to go?”

The creature looked up at him, hopping back up onto his shoulder.

“It’s okay if none of the others get along with you,” Ganlin said, trying to make the thing feel better about their lack of luck with socializing. “I’m sure where you and I are going is a lot more interesting.” Ganlin tried his best to smile in a comforting way.

“We should come up with a name for you, friend. Have any ideas?”

The alcht looked at him, and chirruped in response, seeming to almost shrug their wings as they did so.

“Very well,” Ganlin said as he began walking again. “We’ll think of something eventually.”

-End of Chapter 12-

The space was cramped. Looking up, Ganlin couldn’t see anything above him, but he could tell from the sound of the rain that there was something above his head protecting him from the weather. Partially protecting, he corrected, as a drop rain slipped through and landed on his head. Ganlin reached above his head, trying to find out just how tall the ceiling above him was. He had to reach his arms fully out above his head and do a small jump above that to feel what was above him. It had the texture of wood, and though Ganlin’s hands hit it with some force, it barely budged, proving that it was locked, or held down somehow. Ganlin jumped up and down a few more times, hands outstretched towards the piece of wood above him, but he had no luck grabbing it. The walls were worn down as well, meaning there weren’t any places for Ganlin to place his hands and try to climb his way out of where he was, what the captain of the guard had called ‘the pit’.

There was no way for him to get out, so Ganlin did the only thing he could do, which was to look upwards, waiting for some source of light to reveal itself.

As time passed, the rain did not let up, it continued to fall, drops coming down through whatever cracks existed in the wood covering that was above Ganlin’s head.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The droplets of water kept coming down as the sound of the angry skies raged above, sounding like rosha beads rolling against thorca plates.

There! A bright flash of light, existing for only a fraction of a moment. Gone in an instant, Ganlin was only able to see the rough shape of the wood above him before his world was plunged back into darkness.

Ganlin jumped as a deafening sound filled the air. It was louder than any sound Ganlin had ever heard before in his life. It sounded as if the very world itself was splitting apart, waking some terrible rumbling beast.

Ganlin stared wide-eyed above him, waiting to see if the source of the terrible sound would reveal itself.

Again, there was a quick flash of light that disappeared before Ganlin could even process it, only ever existing in his mind as a memory. Then again, a great rumbling that made all the hair on Ganlin’s body stand up on end.

More flashes of light, more deafening sounds. Eventually, Ganlin put together that the flashes of light were somehow causing the horrible sounds.

Once he realized that, he remembered his reoccurring dream, of his fight with Ragnov amongst the burning structures of the skal. Ganlin remembered the strange appearance of the sky in that dream, and he thought that perhaps the flashing light and deep sounds were part of the rain, as he remembered that those were also present in his dream.

The realization calmed Ganlin somewhat, though he still jumped whenever he heard the sounds roaring through the air. The rain continued coming down, and a very small puddle of water was forming by Ganlin’s feet at the bottom of the pit.

Ganlin realized just how truly horrible that pit could be once his legs began to tire from standing for so long. He tried to sit, but the area was too narrow, his feet uncomfortably raised above the ground and his back painfully pushed up against the dirt. Ganlin stood back up, the tightness of the space making it a more difficult endeavour than trying to sit down was. Once he was back up, he tried supporting his weight by laying on his side against part of the wall, but there was still too much weight on his legs, and the lack of room made the position maddeningly uncomfortable.

As he struggled to find some form of comfort, the malicious simplicity of it all was revealed to Ganlin. It was a perfect punishment. Throw someone into the pit, and for however long they were stuck in it, they would truly be unable to find any form of respite for themselves.

As Ganlin struggled to find a comfortable position, a memory suddenly came to the forefront of his brain. His first night at Silvirtharn, when the cart first pulled into the courtyard. Near one of the outer buildings, Ganlin had seen some guards reaching down into a hole in the ground, lifting out a prisoner and dragging them back into the prison, the prisoner completely unable to support himself.

Now that he was in the same position as that prisoner, Ganlin could understand why they had seemed so broken by the experience. The whipping was to break a prisoner’s body, make them doubt their unruly actions, the pit was to break a prisoner’s will, their mind itself. Time in the pit was made to wear down at one’s very soul, leaving them an empty husk that would be incapable of even thinking of being unlawful ever again. With nothing but the rain and his fears to keep him company, Ganlin fell into a very uneasy sleep.

The dreams he had were sparse and strange. Tiny fragments of an incomprehensible whole, always moving, never staying long enough for Ganlin to get a grasp of what was happening in any particular one. They were filled with past skirmishes and future battles, old hurts and pains yet to come, if there was any truth to them to be believed. There were strange men who stared at him, and Ganlin stared back, none of them aware of the strange creature that watched over them all, waiting in silence. A storm, a mountain, a man, a fire.

Ganlin awoke again, his head feeling as if it were filled with sand.

The rain was still going, but the noises and the lights had stopped, and the rain sounded weaker than it had before. The hole that Ganlin was trapped in had been filling with water while he slept, however, and the water had reached close to halfway up his shins. Ganlin’s feet, which were completely submerged in the water, felt numb. Ganlin’s heart quickened with concern as he lifted one foot out of the water and grabbed it with his hands; he could feel his foot with his hands, but his foot couldn’t feel his hands.

A small beam of light came down softly through a crack in the wood, and Ganlin saw something even worse: His foot had become a completely different colour. His toes had changed to a much darker tone, and the rest of his foot had not gotten as bad, but looked as if it was going much the same way.

Ganlin quickly checked his other foot and saw that it was in the same state as the first. What was happening? Did it have something to do with the water?

Ganlin panicked as he tried to get his body in a position above the water. He managed to cram his limbs together in a way that his feet and arms were supporting all his weight as he supported himself by bracing against the dirt. Ganlin’s arms were already shaking, he was too tired, too hurt to be able to keep himself up for long.

Ganlin heard voices above him, and turned his head to the sound, trying to pick out the words through the sound of the falling rain.

“My deepest apologies, Warden,” said one of the voices, their accent placing a strange emphasis on the ‘ee’ sound of deepest. “I know it is quite early in the morning, so I hope my arrival did not wake you.”

The warden’s voice quickly replied to the one that Ganlin didn’t recognize. The warden was farther away, and Ganlin couldn’t hear all the words, but he heard enough to know it was some reassurance that this meeting was not an inconvenience.

“I must admit that I am quite curious as to the reason for your early visit, and for it being so soon after the last time,” the warden continued, was the other voice one of the people Ganlin saw before being put in the hole? Ganlin shifted his weight as the conversation continued.

“Simply put, warden, we have conferred with our peers at Maeschekyole, and they are very interested in your offer indeed, but they are requesting we bring a sample back with us, to confirm that your vievstone is real.”

Vievstone? Those people Ganlin had seen were wizards?

The shock of it made Ganlin lose concentration, and his foot slipped, making him lose his careful balance and fall back into the water, creating a loud noise as he splashed into the water. The voices above him stopped. A second passed before the stranger spoke again.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, just one of our more unruly prisoners enjoying their punishment.” The warden’s reply was spoken in a reassuring tone. “The hole is probably filled up with a bit of rainwater, most unpleasant I’d guess.”

“You put them in a hole?”

“Only those who refuse to step into line when presented with tamer persuasions. It’s brutal, but sometimes it’s what must be done.”

“Hm. Is it the Ank’haran that’s in there? I saw him tied up on the steps last night.”

“Why yes, it is. I don’t know what it is that brought him here, but I can’t imagine this was it. He was the one who found the vievstone, actually.”

“Oh, he was? Who would have guessed that some Ank’haran could be so good at digging?”

The warden laughed deeply at the other person’s comment.

“Indeed!” Came the warden’s hearty reply. “He started off as quite the hard worker. Such a shame that he had to become so rebellious.” The warden clicked his tongue. “It is what it is, I suppose. You say that you need more vievstone? Very well, I’d hate to let go of more of it so soon, but I’m certain we can negotiate a deal that we’re both happy with. Come, let’s get inside, out of the rain.”

Ganlin could hear clinking of armour and the sound of footsteps moving away from him, leaving him alone in the hole again.

Ganlin’s legs were cold, but a spark of hope was lit inside his chest and made him feel warmer. If the person the warden was speaking with was connected to the wizard in Ganlin’s dreams at all, then perhaps he would finally be set free! Ganlin hoped that the wizard wasn’t too angry with Ganlin to help him.

The only issue was that the person who spoke with the warden said they had come from a place called Maeshekyole, and Ganlin had never heard of such a place, and the wizard that Ganlin had spoken to said that they were in a place called Ludilakir. Ganlin combed his memories, trying to remember if the wizard had said anything about a place called Maeschekyole, even if only as an offhand comment.

Ganlin could not remember the wizards even mentioning it, however, and that simple fact made Ganlin uneasy. Was this mysterious group that had arrived at Silvirtharn another group of wizards? A group that was an opposing force to those who resided in Ludilakir? Did this other group know anything about Ganlin? The person who had just met with the warden did mention Ganlin as an Ank’haran. Were they also looking for him, and if they were, what were they planning to do once they had him?

Ganlin shifted to keep his feet above the water as he tried to consider all of the possibilities. Would this new group also try to release him from Silvirtharn, or were they happy to let him stay and rot away? If they freed him, what would their plans be after that? They wouldn’t take him out of prison just to kill him, would they?

To Mak’al’mat with them all, whatever their plans are. Thought Ganlin, growing sick of all his worrying.

Whatever it is they want from me, be it my help or my life, they aren’t getting it.

Ganlin didn’t know what their plans were, and Ganlin didn’t care anymore. Afterall, the wizard’s question might have had nothing to do with who Ganlin was, it might have just been simple curiosity. If they did want him and if they got him out of Silvirtharn, he would thank them and then leave to find his way back to the skal so that he could make good on his oath and protect it in whatever way that he could. Ganlin spent the rest of his first full day in the pit coming up with plans, trying his best to mentally prepare for anything that could happen to him.

From if the group let him out and tried to kill him to what he would do if the guards of the prison forgot he was in the pit and didn’t know or care where he was anymore.

Sometime later he heard the person leaving the prison grounds again, thanking the warden for the extra vievstone.

Ganlin wasn’t given any food, but at one point the wood above him was lifted, and some water was poured down from a waterskin, having to open his mouth to catch as much of it as he could before the wood was placed back over his head. Ganlin had to close his eyes when it happened due to the sun being so bright to him, causing him to miss some of the water.

Ganlin continued to keep himself positioned just above the water, so that his feet would not fall into a worse condition. For the entire day he sat like that, listening to the world above him as the prisoners and guards of Silvirtharn went about their day, doing the work that was assigned to them. Sometimes he’d fall asleep, for how long exactly he wasn’t able to tell, but it was never enough to make him feel fully rested.

The rain slowly faded away, and by the time night was falling again the weather was back to normal.

Ganlin was half asleep and staring blankly at the wall through half lidded eyelids when the wood above him was lifted. Ganlin looked up, but saw no one there.

“Hello?” He said in a voice that was lower than a whisper. No answer came. Something above him moved. Ganlin squinted his eyes as he looked upwards, trying to figure out what it was he saw above him. It looked like the rough shape of a person, except the light of the moons were shining through it, it was as if Ganlin were looking at someone through a shadow, and the harder he tried to look, the harder it became for him to focus on them. Ganlin thought he saw the shape move again, but he couldn’t be sure.

The shape stretched, part of them coming down holding a small glass bottle filled with a liquid that gave off a soft yellow light.

“Take it.” the shape above Ganlin said. “Quickly. Take it and drink all of it, no matter how it tastes.”

Ganlin reached out with his hands and grabbed the bottle, which fit comfortably in the palm of just one of his hands. Ganlin popped open the lid and tipped the bottle back, letting the liquid go into his mouth and down his throat.

Ganlin struggled not to gag the second it made contact with his tongue. The thing was rancid, and it felt like it was burning his mouth and throat as he drank it though. Ganlin coughed as he swallowed it.

“Very good. Pass the bottle back up here, and give me your hands.”

Ganlin followed the voice’s instructions, keeping his hands above him as he watched the bottle be grabbed by a hand that looked like it wasn’t there. The bottle moved up out of the hole and disappeared from sight. Ganlin thought he saw the shape again as something that felt like a hand grabbed onto his.

As they grabbed his hands, Ganlin began to see the potion’s true effect:Ganlin himself was disappearing, becoming a hard to see shape just like whoever was helping him. The voice spoke again.

“Listen very carefully to what I’m saying. Are you able to bite down on your arm and keep yourself quiet? Say yes.”

“Yes, I can.” Ganlin replied.

“Good, do that. Now.” Ganlin followed the shape’s instructions as they kept speaking.

“I’m going to release you from your chains, but it may hurt, so bite down hard and stay as quiet as you can. After I get you out of those, keep holding onto my hand and together we’ll lift you out. Once you’re up here, hold onto my hand and just follow where it pulls you. Now, you better be biting down because those chains are going to be coming off soon.” As the voice finished speaking, Ganlin felt his wrists getting rapidly warmer.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ganlin looked at his hands, or rather where they were supposed to be, and saw the manacles around his hands starting to glow a deep orange colour as the metal itself started to heat. Ganlin bit down as they became even hotter, burning his wrists as he watched the manacles keeping his hands together turn from orange to red as they became liquid. The melted manacles slipped off Ganlin’s wrists and fell into the pool of water, where they hissed like snakes as steam rose up.

“Quickly, now!” Said the voice. “Get up here.”

Ganlin followed the voice's instructions and lifted himself out of the pit. Behind him, the shape moved the wood back over the hole.

“Alright. Stay quiet, and come with me.”

-End of Chapter 9-

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