Oirnas

It was a calm Monday in the Kingdom of Xiivas.

Birds were chirping, and the distant hum of people could be heard from every corner of the realm. The sun sat high in the sky, but this serenity did not last long; the screams of a new prisoner sent to the Eight Towers dungeons shattered the peace.In the muddy courtyard of the prison, fourteen-year-old Zhaks had been rendered speechless by his own sobbing and screaming as he was dragged across the ground by guards. His eyes were bloodshot, matching the rest of his bruised and battered body.He looked up at the man dragging him. It was a two-meter-tall guard clad in thick iron armor; in his right hand, he carried a massive axe, large enough to cleave a horse in two.Zhaks finally decided to stand up. His body was flushed red and caked in mud, but he couldn't stay upright for long as his right ankle had been badly sprained.Yet, he had to walk; he knew exactly what would happen if he didn't, for he was well-acquainted with the reputation of the Eight Towers.When he was eight years old, he had come here with his older brother to purchase a slave, but now he had fallen into that very same plight.The rule was simple: oppose the guards, and you die. Thus, ignoring the agony in his leg, he had no choice but to move forward.Struggling to his feet once more, he began to limp along through a fit of coughing.They passed through a massive, grayish-brown gate and began walking down long, wide corridors.Looking around, he saw rooms behind iron doors; two guards stood before each one. Every door was marked with a number. In this eight-story dungeon, each floor housed a hundred prisoner cells, an administrator, and large separate quarters for the guards; furthermore, there were no kitchens on any floor above the first four. The office of the warden who managed the prison was located on the fourth floor—the exact middle. Zhaks had learned all of this from his brother during their previous visit. They were actually a noble family serving the Kingdom of Xiivas, yet for reasons unknown, he was now a prisoner.Ascending four flights of long, wide stairs with his sprained ankle, Zhaks fought the urge to scream; the pain in his leg had become unbearable.Finally, the guard and Zhaks stopped in front of room number 445.The guard opened the door and impatiently shoved Zhaks inside, slamming the door shut behind him.Thrown into the center of the room, Zhaks hit his head on the floor. Once the door was locked, he stood up and began to survey his surroundings.Inside the room was an old bed, a moldy shackle resting upon it, an old and foul-smelling bucket, and a window so small a mouse could barely squeeze through. Directly in front of the window hung a man, his eyes closed and his hands suspended by chains. His upper body was bare, covered in burns and whip marks. He was a young man of about twenty-six or twenty-seven, roughly 1.77 meters tall, with dark, matted hair.Zhaks took two steps back, sat on the floor, and lay down. His eyes drifted shut."ZHAKS! ZHAKS! WAKE UP, ZHAKS!"When Zhaks opened his eyes, he was met by his little sister, Clara: "Come on, sleepyhead, mother has already prepared breakfast." Zhaks’s eyes widened: "Clara, what day is it?" "It's the third Sunday of the second spring month, brother?"This was the day before Zhaks had been imprisoned; he had been thrown into the Eight Towers on Monday, April 21st, but he was no longer at that point in time."So strange," Zhaks thought to himself, then added aloud, "You go ahead, Clara, I’ll be right down."Clara ran out of the room and headed downstairs.Zhaks sat on his bed and began to ponder: "I don't remember what happened between last night and this morning, and why have I gone back a day? I must be dreaming. Yes, this has to be a dream; yet Clara woke me up exactly like this yesterday morning. Is this the work of a sorcerer, or are evil spirits mocking me because I fell asleep in the dungeon?"Zhaks decided to get out of bed and head down for breakfast: "I need to figure out what’s going on here."As Zhaks walked down the hallway, he heard his mother's voice; she was laughing with his sister.As he continued walking, he heard the sound of a door opening behind him and stopped: "That’s the sound of the cellar door; that sound wasn't there yesterday."Just as he was about to turn around, a violent pain shot through Zhaks's head. It was so intense that he clutched his head and collapsed to the floor.As the sound of footsteps in the corridor grew closer, the pain in Zhaks’s head intensified.Finally, he felt a presence directly behind him, but he couldn't even move his head to look; the state of his head was far worse than the pain in his leg earlier.However, two seconds later, the pain vanished. When he looked back, he saw his brother’s face.Waking up again in the dungeon, Zhaks snapped awake, stiff and drenched in sweat.Upon waking, he saw the man suspended in the air looking at him. Tired black eyes stared into Zhaks as if peering into his very soul.After staring at each other for seven continuous minutes, the man closed his eyes again and went back to sleep.Zhaks was thankful he had fallen asleep, for he was terrified enough of the man. He sat leaning against the left wall of the room and lost himself in his thoughts."Why did I have such a nightmare? And more importantly: why am I here?""My father had gone to the noble summit organized by the kingdom. My brother was in the cellar doing the work ordered by the vizier. My mother and Clara were in the kitchen, and my twin was outside practicing magic. Everything was normal; so why am I here? Is it because I am a mage? That’s absurd; I come from a mage family loyal to the kingdom. They have no reason to imprison me. If I weren't a noble, I would think it was related to sorcery, but it certainly shouldn't be that; at least, I hope."Zhaks decided to perform a healing spell to fix his sprained ankle; at the very least, he wondered if he could use magic inside."Spirits of kindness, created by Holy Mother Sqelda to bring order to nature; please share your power with me and heal my sprained leg." After Zhaks uttered these words, a small amount of magical energy flowed from his hands. Yes, he could definitely perform magic, but his power was being suppressed; the interference was so great it was almost useless. For the spell to fully heal him, Zhaks would have needed to cast it continuously for two hours, but he didn't want to exhaust his mana. So, he practiced for about half an hour, at least easing the pain enough to walk.Just as Zhaks finished his spell, he felt as though he had been plunged into water, yet he remained inside the dungeon.The interior of the room had grown damp; touching the floors and walls, Zhaks could feel they were slightly wet.The moment Zhaks turned toward the other side of the room, he collapsed due to a sharp pain in his back. It reminded him of the sting of tiny sparks from a lightning spell hitting the body.As he lay face down, he rolled onto his back and saw a blue jellyfish.It seemed to be floating in the air. Upon seeing it, the room grew damp once more. As it drifted from side to side, one of its tentacles brushed against the sleeping man, waking him, but the man gave no reaction. Finally, the jellyfish passed through a wall and vanished. However, no one in the room understood what this meant or what was happening. While Zhaks remained staring at the wall in stunned silence, a guard opened the door.