I have finally finished revising the initial few chapters of my original novel and can now get back to making progress. I will be posting the revised version of the first few chapters and then will be returning to posting new ones, now that I finally have more time on my hands.

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Click HERE For the Previous Chapter

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Chapter Two

David

It had taken thirteen days and at least six lives to traverse the harsh waters of the Eastern Ocean but, finally they had arrived. David had no desire to come to this God forsaken place, but now he could not be happier to be approaching the harbour at Kapita. The journey had been unkind to him, with the intensity of the waves precipitating his nausea and provoking him to vomit more times than he cared to remember.

He couldn't help but feel as though he was the unluckiest person in Atalas. If he had only been born a generation beforehand, then it would not have been necessary for him to suffer the journey to this damned continent. This was the twelfth--and thankfully the last--stop of his Great Feast, but typically that stop would be in Primeria. It was only because Guardian Richman had relocated to Crazia ten years ago that he--and every other Arcanethran child--now had to travel all the way here to view the final tablet.

Although he had been paying little attention during the studies of the previous eleven tablets, what he had learned so far had certainly changed his understanding of himself, and of the world which surrounded him. Ever since childhood, he had always felt special--like he had a divine purpose or something of the likes. The reasons for such a feeling had always escaped him back then, but now he was beginning to understand.

Laying in his bed, rocking back in forth with the motion of the water, he clutched his hands tightly around his stomach in distress. It will only be a moment or two now, he thought to himself. Surely he could resist puking up the chicken he had feasted on an hour ago until the ship was docked and he had the opportunity to disembark.

"Master David," a muffled voice came from behind the door to his cabin.

"What?" The discomfort he was feeling was all too clear in his voice.

"We are pulling into the harbour, Master David. Your uncle instructed me to tell you that he is waiting for you on the deck."

The slave on the other side of the door seemed to be in even more discomfort than David. Though she was sobbing as she spoke, he was able to discern that it was the elderly woman with the oddly shaped birthmark on the side of her cheek. Slaves were not permitted to have names, but he had referred to her as Hunchie several times before, when mocking her and the other slaves with his friends.

"Alright. That will be all."

For a moment he pondered why she had been wailing so annoyingly, but quickly became distracted by the thought of a stationary bed. How sublime it would be, he thought to himself as he stood up and began to prepare to disembark. That immovable bed was now a vivid fantasy, but it was interrupted by the taste of stomach acid filling his mouth.

He burst through the cabin door at haste with his hand over his mouth, delaying the inevitable for just long enough to sprint to the deck and hang his head overboard. Tears poured down his colourless cheeks as a fountain of vomit ejected its way out of his mouth and nose. His uncle could be heard laughing from behind him, but embarrassment seemed inconsequential in comparison to the awful feeling of the never-ending stream of sick forcing its way out of his face.

Finally, it was over. Though, both the taste and the smell were still pungent enough that they threatened to trigger yet another repetition of that horrific event.

"Oi! What is this?" An angry voice could be heard from below the ship.

David's eyes were stinging, but he managed to squint them open enough to notice that there was an old man on the pier below him, wiping something from his shirt in frustration.

"Hahahahah!"

He began to laugh hysterically. No longer was he the unluckiest person in Atalas. It was now that man. His laughter continued, muffling out sound of the old man's complaints. Maybe he would have felt guilty if it had landed on an Arcanethran, or perhaps even a citizen of the Western lands--but this was Crazia. His father had told him often of how this place was full of nothing but lowborn scum. He even referred to the continent as the land of peasants and savages.

After composing himself, David wiped his nose, eyes and mouth and scoped his surroundings. His face bore a look of confusion as he turned towards his uncle.

"Uncle Joseph, where is the palace?" The vomit still in his mouth and throat made his voice sound raspy.

"The docks at the palace are being renovated. We will make our way from here."
David stared back at his uncle in disbelief.

"You mean... We have to walk past all of these commoners?" What if we catch something?"

It was a genuine worry of David's. He had just been through nearly a fortnight of violent puking. The last thing he needed now was to contract some disease from these disgusting peasants only to be puking for the next fortnight as well.

"Don't worry yourself, boy. The guards will ensure that no one comes anywhere near us."

David turned his attention away from his uncle, and unto the seventy or eighty armour-covered guards occupying the deck. They each had ten-foot spears in their right hands and a heavy, full body shield in the left. Every one of them also had a long sword sheathed at the waist and a visible dagger protruding from each of their boots.

He then turned his head and looked back over the side of the ship. It was now clear to him that this harbour was designated for commerce. Hundreds of ships surrounded him and thousands of people wondered around below. He doubted whether there were enough guards, but he was afraid of appearing afraid to his uncle, so did not mention his reservations. Thirteen days of vomiting at least once an hour had brought enough shame to himself, he did not wish to encourage more ridicule from his uncle.

A powerful wave rocked the boat suddenly, upsetting David's stomach once again.

"Can we go, uncle? I need to get off this ship," he pleaded.

Joseph turned to the ship's captain, "Have someone blood the rest of the lambs and the chickens and sell them at the market."

After receiving a nod from the captain, he turned his head to the chief guard. With a simple flick of the head, he gestured for the guard to begin to prepare to disembark.

Forty of the guards made their way off of the ship first and established a perimeter. David and Joseph followed next, with Hunchie and the rest of the slaves close behind, carrying and dragging all of the Diamondson family's possessions.

The second that David's feet touched the ground, a sigh of relief escaped his lips. His internal organs were finally at ease, and the dizziness was already beginning to dissipate. All he needed now was the rotten taste out his mouth and he could begin to forget about the terrible journey he had just been through.

"Bring me some grapes," he yelled in the direction of the slaves, not talking to any one of them specifically.

Enclosed within a barrier of armoured guards, he and his uncle began to make their way through the centre of Kapita towards the People's Palace.

"What was it like when you came here, uncle?" David inquired curiously.

David's grandfather had had Joseph when he was fifty-seven years old, making Joseph only a few years older than David's fifteen years. He too had travelled to Kapita for his Great Feast.

"It's... different."

David looked up at his uncle in anticipation, awaiting a follow up to the vague statement.

"The people of Crazia are plagued with a lack of ambition." Joseph looked back at David, clearly a loss for words. " I don't know how else to explain it, but you will soon find out for yourself."

David looked down at the floor in thought, unable to comprehend what his uncle had meant. He remembered the lessons given to him by the interpreter during his viewing of the eleventh tablet. He had learned Arcanethria was the oldest and most sacred of all religions in Atalas. Their bloodlines trace back fourteen-thousand years, to the days when Sephorus--the one true God--walked among man in human form. He shared his seed with thirty-three women, of which twelve were virgins. He then created the sacred tablets and gave one to each of the virgin mothers, whose descendants guard the tablets till this day.

It had been a fascinating lesson, though only one part replayed through David's mind right now. He was focused on the section about the soul. The interpreter had told him that before Sephorus took human form, no human body possessed a soul. It was only his magnificent seed that spawned a race of men that bore souls--a living part of God himself. He also learned that the soul hungers for wealth, so that the bearer may pay tribute to Sephorus in the afterlife--a gift in return for the one given by Him.

Was this what his uncle meant? Was this why the people of Crazia lacked ambition?

"Master David. Your grapes."

David had been so deep in thought he had successfully distracted himself from the bitter taste in his mouth, but the prospect of grapes still sounded appealing. This is the first time in weeks that he would be able to eat without worrying about whether he would be throwing it back up.

Without turning around, he held his hand out to the side. A few seconds--and a few scurried footsteps--later, a bag of grapes were placed into his hand. The sound of crying accompanied the delivery, informing David that it must have been Hunchie that fetched them for him.

"I hope for your sake that you did not get any tears on my grapes," he warned.

"What on Atalas is she wailing about, uncle?"

Joseph seemed to be in a world of his own, but looked at David, then Hunchie, then David again.

"The slaves that fell overboard during the journey. They were probably her sons or grandsons. I don't know."

David nodded his head in agreement. "That makes sense."

He began to feel a little sad.

"Uncle. If slaves have no souls, then they have no afterlife. So does that mean that when we get to the afterlife, we won't have any slaves?" He was depressed by the thought of having to do for himself all the work that the slaves did for him now.

Joseph looked down at his nephew, irritated by the continuing array of questions.

"Do I look like Sephorus to you? Ask the interpreter when you get to the palace."

David averted his eyes from his uncle's promptly and quietly muttered, "okay."

Returning his attention to his immediate surroundings, he noticed that they were now making their way through what appeared to be a very large market. There were makeshift stalls and carriages, with tradesmen selling fruit, vegetables, garments, weapons and a million other things. It reminded him of the markets in his own city, back in Centrixia--with a few major differences.

The most visible of those differences was the lack of security. There were no guards in sight other than those in his uncle's service. Did these people not worry about people stealing their products, he wondered. Another difference he noticed, was that there was no butchers in sight. Did they hunt their own meat here in Crazia? Who could have the patience for that? This place certainly was different, he began to realise.

He continued along the path, enjoying a grape with each few steps, but as they approached the end of the market, a hooded body flew past him swiftly and stole the bag from his hand.

"Stop him!" He shouted an order to the guards.

"Soulless pig!"

As he barked the insult at the thief, they turned their head backwards to look at him. Much to his disbelief, it was a girl. She was around his age, with long red hair and a surprisingly beautiful face. She taunted him with a grin and turned her head back around.

A guard ahead of her stuck out his spear in an attempt to block her path but, she slid under it gracefully and disappeared into the crowd. Two guards hurried into the crowd after the assailant, but it was already obvious to David that they would not catch her.

"How did you let her get through the perimeter? Idiots!" Joseph sounded very angry, and perhaps even a little frightened.

The guards looked at one another in confusion, but did not speak.

"Forget it! Just pay attention, you fools!"

Joseph continued to curse, but by this point David was too distracted to discern the words his uncle was speaking. The image of the thief's beautiful face had not left him yet, and he wondered how a young girl could have been so brazen as to steal his grapes with all these guards around. If they had caught her, they would have opened her up from stomach to throat.

He no longer cared about the grapes that had been lost to him. There would be plenty more grapes, but he doubted there would be a face so mesmerising in front of him again at any point during this visit to Kapita. He hoped that he was wrong about that.

For the rest of the walk to the Palace, David was unable to escape his thoughts of the redheaded thief. He wondered if she was from Kapita, and if she often visited the market. He knew already that he would seek any and all excuses to revisit it, in hopes of catching a glimpse or--better yet--a conversation with her. In his mind, he played every scenario, and every conversation he could potentially have with her.

By the time they had arrived at the riverbed opposite the People's Palace, he had convinced himself that he knew exactly what to say to win her affection should he ever bump into her again. Had he not been so deeply immersed in imaginary conversations with this girl, he may have been displeased with the fact that he now had to step onto another boat--albeit a rowing boat--to make his way across the river. Instead, he barely even noticed that he was on a boat, or on a body of water. Not because of the lack of waves on the river, but because his mind was too occupied to enthralled in fantasy to permit any attention to his immediate environment.

On approaching the riverbed next to the Palace, he couldn't even remember how long he had been on the boat. He could still remember the shape of the thief's nose and mouth, though. As well as the colour of her eyes. Green, they were. But, brighter than your average set of green eyes. The shone like freshly cut emeralds, glistening in the sun on a summers day. He longed to see those eyes again.

"David. Are you alright?"

David looked up at his uncle to see a somewhat worried expression on his face.

"Are you still thinking about that thief?"

Yes, he was. He cared not to admit it, however.

"You shouldn't be so surprised, lad. Peasants and savages, remember?"

David faked a smile and nodded his head, "I know, uncle."

"We are here now. Forget about her."

It was not going to be an easy task, but David decided to try and take his uncle's advice. He turned his attention to the palace that lay before him. It was more impressive than he had expected given the location, but compared to some of the structures in his own city back in Centrixia, it was still disappointing. The palace looked hundreds of years old at least. He felt it was in danger of collapsing.

Everything here seemed to be very old. His pilgrimage had taken him all over Atalas and every place he had visited so far was full of newly built cities, with modern architectural designs. His attempts to make sense of Crazia, and why it seemed to be stuck in the past proved unsuccessful.

Arriving at the entrance, the gates began to open and an emissary on horseback approached wearing an outfit most familiar to David. The rider wore a black and red robe with golden trim, and a double pointed, fully black hat--looking somewhat similar to the horns of a bull. David had seen this attire many times before in his life. The man was a member of 'The Order of the Temple Magisterial.'

Other than the fact that they were a military arm of the Arcanethrian religion, David knew little about the order. As he understood it, they were bound by secrecy and not known for breaking that oath. There would often be members at his church during certain religious celebrations, whispering in the ears of the head priests. David thought that it would be a great honour to be a part of the order when he was of age.

The rider looked down at Joseph and tipped his hat, "Brother Diamondson."

He then looked down at David and tipped his hat once again, revealing a smile this time, "Brother Diamondson."

He turned his horse and started moving towards the grossly oversized doors on the front of the Palace. "This way, gentlemen."

Guardian Richman was waiting in the entrance, a welcoming smile upon his face. He was a tall and thin man, with a gaunt face and thin lips. Eyes which were sunken too far back into his skull made his appearance somewhat frightening to David. He had long white hair and a beard to match, but was exceptionally well groomed, with not a single hair out of place.

"Welcome to Kapita, brothers," he greeted them enthusiastically, reaching out for a handshake with Joseph, though his eyes stayed focused on David.

"I trust the journey was not too uncomfortable ?" He seemed a tad sarcastic, as if he already knew that David had been puking for the entirety of their travels.

"David had a little difficulty, but nothing too serious. We're just glad to be here now." Joseph answered in spite of the question appearing to be for David.

"That's wonderful," Richman added.

"If you will give us a few moments, David. I must speak with your uncle and then I shall show you around."

"Of course," David replied, happy to end the conversation with this creepy man.

The two of them walked ten or fifteen feet away and began to whisper. Richman lifted his hand in the air to signal the emissary from the gates to join them in conversation.

David began to examine the hallway. The pillars were shaped like trees and rose up twenty feet before branching out across the ceiling. This was the first time he had ever seen such a thing. Both the floors and the pillars appeared to be made of marble, but the walls were composed of huge blocks of some type of rock. Each block was shaped differently, but fitted together perfectly--almost like some kind of puzzle. Perhaps there was more to this palace than he had initially thought, he considered.

"Ten thousand.....ships.... King is weak."

The whispering men in the corner were talking louder than they should have been. Maybe it was the size of the room which was carrying their echoes, but David was able to hear a few of the words here and there. He proceeded to look around the hall as if he was in admiration, but listened in to see what else he could hear.

"Zabadon....distracted....a month or two"

What on Atalas where they talking about, he wondered. Who was Zabadon? And what was happening in a month or two?"

Before David was able to eavesdrop further, the sound of the doors swinging open stole his and everyone else's attention. He turned to look at the doors and let out a sigh in disbelief.

It was her...

A guard spoke, his voice thundering across the hall towards Richman.

"A Bhuzian raider, Viceroy. We finally caught one."

The beautiful thief stood in between two large guards who held her by the arms tightly. Her hood was now down and she looked even more attractive then she had earlier.

"Excellent!" Richman proclaimed as he hurried across the room towards.

He placed his hands on the girls chin and lifted her head, studying her face.

"Throw her in a cell for now. I will figure out what to do with her later."

"Can I...-"

David's lips moved without his permission, but he promptly gained control of them and ended his sentence.
Richman looked at with curiosity, "Speak, child."

Whatever David had been about to say had escaped him now. He swallowed awkwardly--and too loudly-- and tried to summon another sentence.

"My grapes.." He failed miserably.

Richman looked shot the boy an inquisitive stare.

"Grapes?"

"This thief stole from the boy on our journey here." Joseph rescued him with his words.

"I see. And what now? You want revenge?" Richman's words were followed by an irritable laugh.

David swallowed nervously once again. "No.."

"Give the boy ten minutes with the thief." Richman looked at Joseph and then back at David, a sinister smile covering his face.

"No. Fifteen minutes," he added.

David's heart began to race and his fingers went numb. This was what he wanted. Why was he now so terrified?

He turned to look at the girl, but she refused to meet his gaze.

"Thank you, Guardian Richman."

"Just don't kill her. She's going to be very useful for me." Richman turned and rejoined the other two in the corner of the room and began to whisper again.

David looked over at the guards holding the raider in confusion. What happens now he thought, though he dared not say it.
One of the guards ushered him towards them with his head and they began to make their way towards a staircase leading downwards in the corner of the hall.

As they made their way down the stairs, David realised that he had forgotten everything he had planned to say to the girl. Only ten minutes ago, he knew word for word how to proceed with just about any scenario or path the conversation could lead.
Now, all he could think to say was hello.

Arriving at the cell, he began to wish he did not have to talk to her at all. He was now covered in head to toe in sweat, and he could smell his foul body odour. His nerves had gotten the better of him, and every breathe he took was proceeded by a deeper one as he struggled to breath efficiently.

Whilst everything else in the palace looked hundreds of years old, the dungeons looked as though they had been built that very morning. The design work also looked to be Western.

The guards swung open a heavy metal door to a cell and dragged the girl inside, shackling her to the wall with thick iron chains.

"Go on then, boy. Have fun," one said as they left the cell and closed the door behind him.

They were expecting him to torture her, or rape her, it seemed. There was no chance of that. David would have rather seen her freed than hurt, especially at his own hand.

He looked the girl in the face. Those bright green eyes were hard to look away from. She stared back at him, with no interpretable emotion.

"Hello." David felt like an idiot as soon as he spoke. He knew that he could do better than that.

"I'm sorry this happened to you," he said sincerely.

The redhead looked into his eyes, causing him to lose his footing.

"You're sorry?" A look of confusion filled her face.

"I am but a soulless pig, remember?" She looked away from in disgust.

"I'm sorry for that too," his words sounded almost like begging. It was evident that he wanted forgiveness.

The Bhuzian looked back at him, "No. You're not. You meant what you said."

"I did not!" he asserted. His voice broke with anxiety as the words left him.

"Yes. You did. And if you cannot admit even that, then I do not know why you are here." Once again, the girl turned her head away from his.

"Okay. I meant it. But, I was angry."

The feeble attempt to justify his words did not win him her attention.

"It is true though."

This time, she looked up. "Why do you believe that you have a soul and I do not?"

David thought of telling her what he had learned on his recent travels, but knew that it was forbidden.

"I can't tell you." He looked down at the floor, with no idea what to say next.

"It's a secret, huh? How convenient.."

David looked back up at her and sighed.

"It is!" he exclaimed.

"Then it is not true," she replied.

David was confounded.

"What do you mean?" He looked at her, pleading for an answer.

"In the Aman bible, there is a well known verse; the light of truth need'th no protection." She looked back at him, awaiting a response.

"What is Aman?" he asked. He had never heard of such a religion.

The girl laughed and shook her head.

"You are in Amanak and you don't even know of Aman? What are you even doing here?"

"This is not Amanak. This is Kapita, isn't it?" David looked even more bewildered now.

"I mean the continent, not the city. You really don't where you are?"

"Sorry, but you're wrong. This continent is called Crazia."

He couldn't understand how she could be so confused about the continent that she lived on.

"No it is not. This is Amanak, named after our religion--Aman." A look that seemed like pity painted the thief's face.

"No. it isn't! I have studied many maps, and on every single one, this continent in named Crazia."

"And where are these maps that you speak of?"

David looked away again. This was an argument he had no idea how to win.

"What is your name?" She asked, in an almost polite tone of voice.

"David.."

"Well, David. Have you ever considered that whomever it is that creates these maps that you study, has never been here, and therefore does not know what the true name of my continent is?"

David pondered the theory. It was true that every map he studied that titled this land as Crazia, had been developed on
Western continents. But, why then would they choose the name Crazia?

"Maybe you're right." he conceded.

"No. I am right. I know the name of my own home."

"Okay. Sorry. I still don't know what you mean though. Truth needs no protection?"

They looked at one another once again, and for the first time it did not feel as though they were enemies.

"Only lies need to be kept in the dark, because the light of truth exposes them for what they are. So if it is a secret, then it is most likely an untruth."

This was a new perspective for David, though he knew that what he had been told was the truth. It all fit too perfectly with what he already thought of himself. He did not want to argue with her though, so he pretended to believe what she was saying.

"I understand. That's interesting.."

An awkward silence interrupted the conversation.

"What is your name?" he added finally.

"Why?" she asked. "What does it matter?"

"I would just like to know. I told you mine." he argued.

"Fine. It is Nyska."

That is a weird name, David thought. Still, it seemed quite beautiful to him.

"It's a nice name."

His attempts at flattery were wasted on her.

"Yes it is. Not weird like David." She laughed in ridicule.

"My name is weird? You must be joking."

Nyska looked at David with a cold stare.

"I'm the one who is joking. I know my name is weird."

David's lie was all too obvious, but the effort seemed to win him some forgiveness.

"Why did you come to Amanak, David?" she seemed genuinely curious now.

"I am on my Great Feast," he proclaimed with pride.

"My religion is the most ancient in all of Atalas. Every Arcanethrian child must embark on a journey of religious studies when we turn fifteen. This is my last stop before I return home."

Nyska looked to have lost interest.

"What's wrong?" he inquired.

"You're very arrogant. Did you learn that on your Great feast," her emphasis on the final words seemed an attempt at humiliation.

"No I am not. And it is called the Great Feast because of the immense amount of knowledge we are expected to consume."

"How clever," she replied sarcastically.
David regretted ever coming into the cell. This is not how he thought things would go.

"Look. It is obvious you do not want to talk. Can I please just have your forgiveness before I go?"

Nyska looked confused that he would care so much about being forgiven.

"I cannot offer you my forgiveness, because you already admitted that you believe I have no soul."

David began to get frustrated.

"You should really be apologising to me for stealing my grapes," he barked. "There were thousands of stalls there you could have stolen fruit from one of those instead of from my hand."
Nyska looked deep into David's eyes.

"I could have. But, I would have felt guilty."

"So why did you not feel guilty for stealing from me?"

"Because you foreigners are destroying our land, and stealing from our people." Nyska seemed sad as she spoke.

David adjusted his voice and responded softly. "I'm sorry you feel that way, but I have not stolen anything from you."

Another awkward silence followed, and David considered leaving.

"David."

He looked back up at Nyska.

"You are right."

His face lit up. Finally she realised.

"You haven't stolen anything from me. I am sorry."

David couldn't believe that she had given in so easily. Now he just wanted her to forgive him.

"So you'll forgive me then?"

He looked up at her, expecting a yes.

"I cannot."

"Argh," a sound of frustration escaped his mouth, inspiring Nyska to giggle.

"Not yet. Come closer."

Her voice was soft and her tone was inviting, but David worried that it was some type of trap. Her hands were shackled, but she had enough freedom of movement to swing at him if she wanted to.

"Why?"

"Just do it, or you will never earn your forgiveness."

David took a deep breath and moved closer to the bound redhead.

"Look at me," she whispered.

He looked into her sparkling green eyes and held her gaze.

A cold hand touched his chest, causing him to flinch.

"What are you doing?" He whispered, still looking into her eyes.

"Shhh."

She placed the palm of her hand on David's heart and closed her eyes. David somehow knew without instruction that she wanted him to close his eyes too.

Upon closing his eyes, a wave of energy danced around his body, causing his skin to tingle. Though his eyes were shut, he could now see her right in front of him, looking back at him with glowing green eyes. They were no longer in a cell, however.
Now they were surrounded by huge trees in a windy forest. Not only could see her hair blowing in the wind, but he could feel the wind himself, and individual strands of her wild hair tracing their way across his face and neck.

He couldn't understand why, but he knew that she was really there with him, and that she could see--and feel--the same thing he could right now. She smiled at him in the vision they were sharing, and placed a second hand over his heart. Tears began to flow down his cheeks as he felt the pain of all that he had lost--though he had not lost anyone that he could remember. It was her loss he was feeling, he realised. When the pain subsided, he felt joy and heard laughter coming from somewhere in the forest that surrounded him. Finally, when the feeling of joy desisted, he was overcome by a feeling of monumental determination. He did not know what it was that he--that she--wanted, but he knew she wanted it badly.

She pulled her hand off of David's chest, and opened her eyes. The vision--or whatever it was--was over. David gasped for breath desperately, as though he had been underwater for five minutes. He touched his face to see that the tears were real, and not merely a hallucination.

"What... was that?" he muttered.

Nyska placed her hand on his chin and tilted his head up, locking eyes with him.

"Now I forgive you."

David needed no explanation. He knew what she meant. He had just seen, felt and touched her soul--and no amount of sacred tablets could ever convince him otherwise. She had ambition, just like him. Only hers was not for wealth or power. He had so much to say to her, so much to ask, but couldn't get any words out. The profundity of what he had just experienced nullified his ability to construct a sentence of any significance.

"The light of truth need not be protected," she added.

Not ten minutes beforehand when he had heard those same words, he had wanted to scratch his head in confusion. Now however, his comprehension of this passage was absolute.

A loud knock fell on the door.

"That's fifteen minutes. I better take you back to Richman now."

David quickly wiped all of the tears from his face and looked up at Nyska.

"Thank you," he whispered and left for the door abruptly.

A guard opened the door as he approached it, "Have fun did you boy?"

David turned back to look at Nyska. She held her face with one hand as though she was hurt, and her other on her chest--a subtle reminder of her soul meant for David.

"More than you could ever now," David replied.

The guard laughed, but David could not join in. The foundations of his life had just been shattered and he now had to question everything he believed. He turned his head back to share a final glance with the person who had just changed his life, then followed the guards back up the stairs.

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