Most Ra-Dimar neytives grow up to be architects or archeologists, but not Pax. His trybe made sure he’s a well-known fugitive. They placed him in one of the most heavily guarded pyramids on the island.

Pax scratches his cheek with the length of the chain, connecting him to the heavy sandstones behind him. The chains on his feet connect to the other corners in the humid chamber. He hasn’t felt a gust of breeze in over 700 revolutions. The remainder of his sentence is killing him with each passing dial.

At the center of the chamber is a pile of discarded clothes that Pax no longer needs, due to either outgrowing them or building up in dirt and dead skin. It’s always the same bland design with one choice of color. He’s starting to miss wearing whatever he wants outside the chamber. He misses wearing shredded pants and dark colored shirts. He misses wrapping layers of linen around his arms, legs, neck and face. He misses almost everything before becoming a prisoner of his own trybe.

Now, he’s living in the only isolated pyramid Ra-Dimar could spare, with limited food and water, one set of clothes and the inability to use his trigger. Life could be much worse than the 2’000 revolution sentence he’s been given.

He could be dead.

The distinct sound of sirens echo outside the chamber, telling Pax that phase has already set and the other neytives are sleeping in their own comfortable beds. Meanwhile, he’s left to sleep against the off-colored sandstone wall using the chains on his wrists as support for his neck.

His unbearable slumber is interrupted by another sound near the passageway door. The entrance into the chamber lifts into the ceiling and drops back down with a loud boom. Pax raises his head, but can’t see who entered the chamber. What he hates about being locked up is how there’s only one source of light in the chamber, a lantern perched on the wall. He’s growing to be afraid of the dark thanks to his trybe.

It doesn’t take long for more lanterns to light up and reveal the neytive who entered the chamber.

Ra-Dimar’s Preeminent, Sunet, stands in the glow of the light. She doesn’t pay any mind to Pax, only swiping her fingers across a holocard.

“Of all the other neytive on this isle,” Sunet gripes over her words and works to unlock the cuffs on his ankles. “The Chancellor has the audacity to pick you as a candidate.”

Pax wasn’t listening to what she was saying, instead focusing on what she was doing. He asks himself why is she unlocking the chains? His sentence isn’t over for another 1’300 revolutions. What did she mean by him being a candidate? Are they finally going to kill him?

Sunet unlocks the first two cuffs and moves to the ones on his wrists. “Listen very carefully. I do not understand why the Chancellor picked you for the Knyghts Voyage or what she plans to accomplish with a neytive like you, but we are obligated to follow her commands. The vessel will arrive soon to take you with them. I expect you to go through with this. If you somehow manage to complete the Knyghts Voyage, the trybe will consider shortening your sentence and improve your living conditions.”

Sunet releases Pax from all his binds and stands back up to put some distance between them. She knows him more than any other neytive on Ra-Dimar. She knows what he’s capable of doing.

He tries to stand on his own feet, but struggles due to not using them for a long time. Once he regains better posture, he levels his sight to Sunet. He sprints toward her and knocks her down to the ground. She doesn’t do anything to stop him or counter his attack. He grabs her by the collar of her shirt.

She must have known what would happen if she let him free. She’s the one who put him in the pyramid for his alleged crime.

Pax waves his hand across his throat as a cloud of sand picks up off the floor. He twitches his fingers and the sand molds into words. ‘Do you think I will believe anything you tell me?’

“Do not bother sunacating,” Sunet swats at the cloud of sand. “You need to listen to what I tell you. Get on that vessel and go through the Knyghts Voyage.”

Pax feels nothing but anger well up inside his heart. He places his right hand over her throat.

Most Ra-Dimar neytives use their claws for architectural purposes, but Pax is going to use them to slit the throat of his Preeminent. The base of his fingers morph into razor curved claws. The metallic anatomy of his claws feel heavier since the last time he used them. Seeing the situation he’s in now would be the perfect chance to feel something.

He can’t see the twisted smile on his face, but he does see another neytive standing on the other side of the chamber. The rage that blinded him is soon replaced with fear and guilt.

Standing near the door strong and defensive is a neytive who's been watching over Pax since the first dial. A neytive in charge of sealing the door, giving him minimal rations, and overseeing his existence crumble to nothing. This is the last neytive he would ever want to see. The mere sight of him churns his stomach to produce bile. Pax lets go of Sunet and staggers back to the spot he was cuffed.

“Talon,” Sunet recovers her composer and fixes her clothes. “See if you can get through to him.”

Talon nods to her demand and walks toward Pax, crouching down right in front of his face. “You need to accept the Knyghts Voyage.”

Pax moves his hands to his throat and picks up more sand. ‘No.’

“The Chancellor is offering a deal you can not refuse. Do you not want to be free?”

‘Stop lying.’

“I am not lying,” Talon places his hand on Pax’s shoulder and squeezes. “Please. Accept this.”

Pax flinches away to avoid looking at Talon. He hasn’t felt physical contact for revolutions. Having Talon in the chamber is making him go mad. He doesn't hold back the tears as they roll off his cheeks. He doesn’t want to feel any more pain. He wants to leave.

He nods his head in acceptance.

Talon gets up and goes back to Sunet. He pulls a bag sitting behind her and tosses it to Pax with no care. Inside the bag, he finds a new set of clothes that may fit him. It wasn’t the clothes he was doomed to wear for 2’000 revolutions. It’s clothes he’s been dreaming of wearing again. At the bottom of the bag are five rolls of linen and a pair of shoes.

Sunet pulls the holocard out and hands it over to Pax. An old image of him appears above the holocard with short sandy brown hair and clear brown eyes. He looks nothing like the image in front of him. His hair grew past his jawline and his irises lost their color two revolutions ago. Sunet doesn’t hide her smirk over Pax’s prior state. “Congratulations.”

The screen changes to finger imprints. Pax almost puts his hand on the holocard, but stops himself. He remembers what Talon said about a deal.

He sunacates. ‘What was the deal?’

Sunet draws a sigh. “The Chancellor is offering the protection of the candidates’ families with their acceptance.”

Pax demeanor changes. ‘Is that it?’

“Obviously.”

‘Forget the deal. I will only accept the Knyghts Voyage under a new condition.’

Sunet turns to leave, but Talon tells her to at least listen.

Pax continues. ‘Tell the Chancellor if you want.’

Sunet and Talon exchange doubtful looks, not saying anything to counter his suggestion. The Preeminent wants to hear what exactly is going through his mind.

Most Ra-Dimar neytives would never consider thinking about this deal, but Pax isn’t like them. He lifts his fingers to the screen before telling her what he wants out of the Knyghts Voyage. He can feel his twisted smile return, taking in delight at the one thought he’s kept repeating to himself over and over again.