Silas sat exposed under the gloaming sky in the dirt, confined to the trunk of a massive pine tree. That was the Vazeer's idea. There were far too many nefarious things for a thief to get up to in the night. But it didn't bother him when Monroe coiled the icy metal tight around his torso, limbs, and the tree. If anything, it was a compliment. A grin pulled at the corners of Silas's mouth. 

It entertained him greatly that someone as weak and mortal as him would pose a threat to the great and powerful Carpathian. His only gripe was the ache in his lungs every time he tried for a breath. The vice grip on his chest, and the chill that nipped at his skin, made it impossible to find sleep. Instead, Silas relaxed as best he could against his chains and gazed upon the constellations that passed over the needles of towering trees. 

Millions of glistened lights stretched far beyond the silver claw of the pale crescent moon, tossed like diamond dust in the eternal void of black. They were a maelstrom of brimstone, searing grains of molten sand that gleamed in the silence. Sparks flickered from the angel fire of heaven where the eyes of the Gods oversaw their creations. Among those pinpricks of polar white was one that glowed crimson. Savenska. The Holy Land. It was where the world's souls returned at their end, to where all creation began again. Or so were the children's stories Silas was told. 

With his eyes closed, he listened to the soft psithurism of the trees and leaned into the calming breeze. He searched his memory for the peaceful waves of the Sagan Sea. Aged from the years he'd been without her, he could still see his mother's gentle smile, hazy as it was. He could remember her weight on him, pushing them down into the sand, bundled close for warmth. "There will come a time when I must leave you." Her words were heavy and sullen as she hugged him tightly under their shared blanket. "But I will always be watching. From up there. In Savenska among the eyes of the Gods."

Except she wasn't. Three black horizontal lines marked the pale flesh of her wrist in permanent ink. She had been born in the Northern Territory in Carpathia and sold her soul to the devil to return home. Soul corrupt, she would never be allowed back to The Mother. As Silas grew older, he began to realize that. Not that it was everyday talk between the people of the Outer Ring, most no longer prayed to the Triad, but he listened when it was on someone's mind. 

"What do those lines mean?" Silas remembered asking her one cold and rainy night. She held his hand, leading him through the chaotic streets with a basket of bread and apples. When he asked her this, she stopped. His mother was always collected. Very rarely would he see her cry or get angry, but as she stood there, drenched by the sorrow of heaven, her pale gray eyes were frightened. He didn't know if what fell from her cheeks were tears or the rain. 

She turned to him, kneeling to his side as she forced trembling lips into a steady smile. "That we are not allowed inside the Inner Ring."

Silas had only heard stories about the Inner Ring. His mother didn't speak of it often, but he knew the people further south lived extravagant lives and never went hungry. Their streets were not plagued by death and suffering, like the harbor that faced Carpathia. And so he asked her, "why can't we go there?" 

A long sigh escaped from her nose. Her hands found their way to his upper arms, gripping them tightly and rubbing his shoulders. "This tattoo was given to me when I still lived in Carpathia. It's home to demons that use magic."

Silas frowned. "We do magic."

She shook her head, her hands lowering down his arms, and gripped his hands in hers. "No, my little miracle. Ours are illusions. Sleight of hand. The magic the Carpathians use is real. They destroy lands to expand their empire and do not care about human life. This tattoo and all who have it," she rolled her loose white stained sleeves up, revealing the three slashes that scored her wrist. "Our souls have been blighted by evil." 

Silas opened his eyes. 

His mother hadn't told him that her soul would never be welcomed into Savenska. Still, he knew. Everyone in the Outer Ring was destined for hell. With that thought, he chuckled slightly under the growing night. He wasn't sure if he even believed in the faith of his people. Personally, he wasn't a very religious man himself. But if there was an afterlife. That the crimson light in the sky was indeed Savenska. He prayed that his mother was there waiting for him. 

And that he hadn't damned his soul to hell before he could reach her.