When Snow woke up the following day he was back in that luxurious bedroom, tucked beneath the soft satin covers. He could tell his wounds had been tended to by the soft herbal scent that still lingered in the air. And, to his surprise, they still hadn’t chained him. There weren’t any new cuts, either, he concluded, carefully checking his arms and chest. Frowning, he wondered about what exactly had happened. He probably hadn’t recovered as much as he’d thought, he concluded with a sigh, feeling rather embarrassed at the idea of having fainted just like that. More than embarrassing it had been extremely dangerous, he chastised himself. He had to be more careful, so he wouldn’t place himself in such vulnerable positions anymore.

Sliding out of bed he couldn’t help smile when his legs didn’t shake as much. Over the small oval table, by the window, a tray with food awaited him. Freshly baked bread and cheese, a cup of tea that had, in the meanwhile, gone cold, and a small bowl with little round fruits he’d eaten for the first time the day before. They were sweet and juicy, and he didn’t waste time, stealing a handful of them and stuffing his mouth with them.

So he had been right, he thought while he ate. The man that normally looked after his needs had already come. Strange that he hadn’t woken him up. Before, whenever he overslept, the man had always woken him up so it would be easier to tend to his wounds, especially his back.

Looking out the window he still had to blink, his eyes tearing up, but at least they didn’t burn as much as before. From where he stood, by the table, the only thing he could see was a clear blue sky, but he never got tired or bored of looking at it.

After eating, he washed his face on the fresh water filling the basin next to the food tray and quickly made his way to the door. More hopeful than the day before, he tried the doorknob and sighed in relief when it turned. So they also hadn’t locked him up … Were they so certain that he couldn’t escape on his own?

With the triple of the confidence that had filled his steps the day before, he made his way to the staircase in record time. Stopping at the top, he still took the time to focus on what he was doing, slowing down to make sure he didn’t fall down the stairs. At least his legs were much firmer, his ankles didn’t hurt as much.

Reaching the ground floor he didn’t hesitate and turned right. The day before he’d turned left and he’d ended up in that large, intimidating room. The dark monster was probably there, he figured, recalling the way he had dominated the entire space as if it had always belonged to him. Besides, he didn’t remember seeing anything even remotely similar to a door that would lead outside anywhere. So, this time, he decided to go the opposite way.

Walking down the wide corridor he passed a few half-dozen doors, all tall and dark-brown, with intricate designs carved on them. But they all looked alike, which meant they would probably lead to other rooms, not outside. Turning left he was faced with a dead end, two large double doors standing right in front of him. Now these looked different, he thought hopefully, turning the knob and pushing them open. His heart almost stop when a dozen or so heads turned to look at him. Quickly scanning the place he immediately knew that he’d been wrong again, although this room did have tall windows leading outside. Maybe he’d be able to escape through one of them, he considered. The problem were the men that, surrounding a large table, seemed to have been discussing something important before he’d so rudely interrupted them. Well, at least the monster wasn’t there, he concluded with a sigh of relief. Neither was the other one, with the fake smile.

“It’s him …” someone whispered, making his heart jump, and he immediately faced the men now staring at him.

“Are you sure? But isn’t he a male?” asked another voice.

“Who knows …”

“Who cares? All I know is that he killed my brother and many of our comrades!” a harsher voice accused, making him take a step back.

“They should have killed him right there and then!”

“Don’t say things like that! What if the rumors are true?”

“How can they be? Have you ever heard of a Celestial murdering over one-hundred men just like that?”

“But didn’t HeavyStone say he saw glowing wings on his back?”

“He must’ve seen wrong, I tell you!”

“We could always check for ourselves … I say he’s nothing but another damned demon! Probably royalty or something, and that’s why they’re protecting him. I’m sure the Calzai actually wishes he could kill him but his hands are tied by Palace politics. After all, we did come here the save an entire lot of them.”

Snow slowly took another step back. Maybe he should run, he considered, his heart already racing. Would his weakened legs allow him to run …?

“A murderer like him …! We’d be doing the Calzai a favor, getting rid of such filth. We can always say that there was an accident. That he fell down and hit his head or something.”

Several heads nodded in agreement and Snow took another step back. He had been so excited about how he felt so much better, about how he’d finally be able to run away, that he’d forgotten that there were other people in the Fortress, besides the black monster and the other one. Not only that, as to be expected, they all blamed him for the deaths of their companions. And it wasn’t as if he could apologize or deny it …

A few of the men stood up and others took a few steps towards him.

Maybe he should have just stayed in his bedroom, he considered bleakly, stepping back again. His gaze turned to the bright windows. What if, instead of running away, he ran towards one of them? Would the glass break if he launched his entire weight, which to be honest wasn’t much, against it? It probably wouldn’t, he concluded stepping back some more as the men slowly closed in on him. He’d probably die from a smashed head. He’d most certainly break a few bones …

“Hey kid! Why are you running away?” one of the man called out, startling him. “We just want to take a peek at those markings of yours.”

Snow shook his head and backed away some more.

“We won’t hurt you,” another assured, even though his eyes were full of hatred. “They’re saying you’re this rare, special being. We just want to check it with our own eyes.”

Snow shook his head again.

“Don’t be stubborn. Grab him!”

Snow spun on his heels and ran away as fast as he could … or at least that’s what he intended to do. The reality, however, was frightening different. And the moment he turned around, ready to try his best and dash out of there, a hot pain locked his leg in place making it impossible to move it, and making him fall head-first in the process, his thwarted momentum making him slide across the smooth floor. The loud sound and the shock of his body clashing against the stone floor left his ears ringing and a sharp pain on his wrist from when he’d tried to brace himself. Still he didn’t waste time, trying to get up, his lips tightly pressed together so that he wouldn’t utter single sound. The hand that grabbed his ankle, pulling him back, almost made him gasp, and he kicked it as hard as he could, trying to get free. Whoever had grabbed him howled and cursed out loud but still refused to release him.

“You damned freak! Grab him!” he ordered and more hands held him down, pulling at his tunic and pants, trying to undress him, hurting his still tender back.

The sudden blast of wind that rushed past his face stole his breath away and, like the day before, the light from the flames silently burning on their holders seemed to grow dimmer. Screams filled his ears, making him cringe, but suddenly he was free again and so he quickly tried to get back on his feet.

“You damn brat! Are you trying to get more of my men killed?” a deep, angry voice asked, and Snow slowly raised his head, still on all fours, to look up at the huge, terrible monster standing right in front of him. His blue eyes looked really angry and so he quickly shook his head. Someone behind him was still screaming and sobbing and so, fearing what he’d might see, he looked back. The men that had chased him had all stepped back … no, they’d all been thrown back and were still trying to stand up. All except one, who was rolling back and forth on the ground, grabbing a bloody wrist. The missing hand lay on a pool of blood just a few steps away from him.

Back on their feet the men huddled together, glaring at the monster in a mix of fear and defiance.

“Anyone else wants to lose a hand? A head, maybe?” the monster asked threateningly and the men immediately lowered their heads, the heavy silence falling over them, cut only by the one still screaming. Since none of the men made a single attempt to move, the monster’s blue eyes turned to him with a cold, murdering glare. “Get up!”

Snow immediately obeyed without a second thought and, when the monster took a step to the side, silently granting him passage, he obeyed that silent order as well, walking past him.

He was taken to a smaller room and ordered to sit on an armchair that was part of a set of dark-blue velvet couches, carefully placed around a small table made of black stone, where tiny silver mineral flecks glimmered, reminding a starry night. Like his bedroom and all the rooms he’d see so far in that Fortress, this one had also been richly furnished and decorated, with velvet carpets covering the floor, a large dining table made of deep-red wood standing to a corner, and heavy blue curtains held opened by golden tassels. The windows were as tall as the ones from the previous room and, over the white stone fireplace hang a heavy-looking mirror framed in gold.

Still he couldn’t relax enough to allow his attention to linger on the beauty and richness of the room. Enveloped in a cloud of dark mist from which he could only see his glowing blue eyes, the angry monster kept pacing back and forth right in front of him, leaving a trail of darkness floating in the air every time he turned around. They remained like that, him sitting in silence and the monster pacing the room like a caged animal, for what felt like a long time, and he couldn’t help feeling sad.

He had never wanted anyone to die … Not the men and women that had been brought to his cell. Not the men fighting that day, outside; men he hadn’t even seen much less met. Not even the man that had hurt him and tortured him. He most certainly hadn’t wanted the men from before to get hurt. Well, he had wanted to kick them, but only so they would release him. In the last few days he had finally understood why Sand had always insisted that he remained silent. Theirs had been a poor and quiet home. Sand had never uttered a single word. With time he’d realized that it wasn’t that she didn’t want to do so, she simply couldn’t. And him, he had only spoken when there really wasn’t any other way around it.

Pressing his lips together he couldn’t help wince when they hurt from all the times he had bitten them.