Even though it was getting late, the townsfolk still hadn't dispersed. If anything, the crowd had doubled. Their stares weren't warm—not by a long shot—but at least the disgust was gone.

He was led down the expansive road for half an hour, where they reached the town square. He didn't try to hide his outrage while looking at a stone statue of the phoenix.

He slowed just a little, but a firm hand pushed him onward.

The castle was perched on a hill. It was made of dark stone, decorated with purple banners, and had windows on every level. As the King and his entourage entered through the main doors, Vin was redirected down a side walkway—toward a shadowed stairwell that sank beneath the building.

A jail.

The inside was dimly lit by candles and narrow. There were four cells on the left, and a lonely desk to the right.

A glorified closet.

They shoved Vin into the last cell.

Three blank brick walls.

A barred door.

A hole in the floor.

His welcome gift.

Most guards left, but one stayed—an older Ravenour who looked like his patience would be thinner than his graying beard.

Not long after, a woman with an eclectic sense of fashion entered the dungeon in a gown made entirely of white feathers. Her skin was unusually tinted, almost a creamy pinkish color. Her scales were also light in tone, and her horns curved out, then inward, to form an incomplete heart shape.

She smelled strongly of flowers—like she'd just been rolling in the courtyard's flowerbed.

The woman stopped at his cell, smiled at him with narrow, mature eyes, and reached through the bars. Before he could refuse, she gently took his damaged wrist and lifted it toward her chest.

Warm, benevolent light bloomed around her palm.

Vin hissed on instinct—but the pain vanished under a wave of soothing numbness.

That light masked them both, making her look inexplicably angelic despite the fiendish horns. The magic she used was just as soft as her touch—like tiny hands stitching his bones together.

His wrist warmed, joints settling into place, and within moments, he could flex it freely.

Before Vin could utter any thanks, the silent maiden stepped away and vanished up the stairs alongside the Warden.

He was left alone.

There was finally peace, so Vin sat and pulled out his journal.

He started by flipping through human journal entries, which already had hundreds of thousands, if not more, pages. Most of them were of things already known to Earth, including typical cattle, plants, and tools like hammers. Unfortunately, there was no hint about where his family had been.

Vin read until he was interrupted by the jingle of keys.

The Warden returned, opened the cell, and shoved a wooden tray onto the floor. Grains, familiar beans, water, a whole chicken drum, and a pile of unidentifiable slop.

Vin waited until the Warden sat at their desk before he lowered himself over the tray. It was a generous amount of food for a prisoner.

A line of drool dripped from his mouth onto the tray, which was the starter pistol to his indulgence.

Barbarism must have been contagious because he ripped through the meal with his dirtied hands like a man who hadn't eaten in years.

Which he hadn't.

Vin emitted a hearty burp that echoed through the jail when finished, then slumped against the cell's wall and wiped his mouth.

He opened the journal again and flicked to his earlier entry.

[Discovered By:] Vin Dance

[Discovered On:] Date: 1/1/300 A.D

[Name: ] Green Bean String

[Notes: ] It's safe to touch.

[End]

[Updated: 1/1/300 A.D, a minute ago]

>Served to me in jail. It's safe to eat.

[End]

'Wonder why the Body of Auroraan doesn't link the journals across all races...'

He yawned. 'Would save a lot of time if humans had the same info as the other aliens.'

The weight of exhaustion finally crushed him.

His eyes fluttered, his hands loosened their grip, and he dropped his journal.

He untied the King's coat from around his waist and tugged it over his body. The man was so large that their clothing actually functioned as a blanket.

Fully encumbered by fatigue, his eyes shut while a final thought drifted: 'The people here are way too big…'

Vin dropped into unconsciousness like falling into ink.

Another surreal dream inside the flower garden took shape—lucid, familiar.

Time felt strange again. Slow. Thick.

When in this place, he always felt safe. He didn't think of the outside world or what he had to do when he woke up—he just existed.

It hadn't been long since he fell asleep.

But reality became undone like threads from a scarf.

Before he could blink, everything shattered.