Consciousness slowly returned to Silas in fragment as he became aware of his body resting on soft linens, his hands lying on his sides. A throbbing pain pulsed at the back of his skull. 

His throat was parched. It felt like sand had been forcefully shoved down his throat. 

His eyes fluttered open, a blurry haze clouding his vision. He blinked and the vaulted ceiling came into view, ornately carved in a golden hue, studded with such colorful gems. He tried to lift his head - his body still sore from all the beating he endured. He scanned the room and realized with a grateful heart that he was alone wherever he was. Light sifted through the beaded curtains hanging over the great window, scattering pinpricks of color across the floor. Beyond them, Raia’s spires cut bold shapes against the sky, a sight both familiar and strangely distant. Silas closed his eyes shut again. He needed to stop obsessing over Raia. 

All he ever wanted was one evening of blissful ignorance, where he could just forget about his station in life for once. He wanted to be more than an orphan who had been raised in Elder Chowksi’s barn. He dreamed of being more. Just once, he wanted to be offered a seat at a tavern, served food, and expected to pay in coin rather than be told to clean shelves in the back. The Elder and the people in his village were kind, but he craved freedom from their mercy. Raia had seemed the perfect escape—an illusion sold by other runners.

Turned out it was all a farce. Ever since he came here, he had been insulted, abused, beaten and almost choked to death. For the life of him, he could not figure out why? 

Ignoring the pain, he flipped to his side, the cool breeze from the windows helped keep away the stifling heat in the room. The skyline was so pleasing to gaze upon, catching the hazy glimpse of Raia’s proud spires once again, their jagged silhouettes clawing at the sky like ancient sentinels. He must have been housed in one of the royal castles, if the books were to be believed.

He wondered what could Erie have possibly done to risk the ire of Royals. He was just a runner, delivering some objects to and fro from Raia, so that Nimit’s outpost here could continue to function. They didn’t seem to know where he lived, so it was quite possible that he stuck with the tale of hailing from Eastern Almatian Tribes. Despite the dense transport and communication network of Raians, those tribes with their affinity for isolation, had remained persistently out of their reach. Nimahs had exploited it thoroughly for identity theft. He desperately hoped that they had bought his lies.

The silence stretched too long. Suspicion coiled in his chest.

He sat up, slowly this time, and eased his legs over the side of the bed. The floor was cool under his bare feet. With tentative steps, he moved across the room, careful not to stir the heavy silence that clung to the walls. Ornate furniture lined the chamber, glowing under the light of the setting sun. The door loomed at the far end, but the visible red threads betrayed a strong spell—Raians weren’t careless.

Still, he checked the windows. Thick glass panes behind the beaded curtains, sealed tight. Too high to jump from, even if they weren’t.

No escape.

He sighed, letting his hand rest against the sill. The sky beyond Raia’s spires had deepened, the light turning from gold to bruised lavender. Somewhere in the distance, a bell chimed.

A throat cleared behind him.

Silas stilled.

He didn’t turn around.

“Dreaming to escape now, Are we?” said a warm, teasing voice.