Book II - Ayla - The Black Tower I

The dungeons of the Black Tower were cold, even more than Nordmar. The thin dress Galian had forced Ayla to wear did not protect her from the cold. She forgot how it was to feel warm and safe. She didn’t remember how it was not to be tortured and not to feel pain all the time. She might have even forgotten the taste of food, for all Godefray and she received were water and old, moldy bread.

Ayla looked at the little piece of bread she had in her hand and put it down next to her. It did not matter if she lived or died. Not anymore. Her hands shook from everything the Dark Master and Galian did to her. Or perhaps it was from the cold. She didn’t know.

A rat that lived in a hole made in one of the cell’s walls came and stole Ayla’s bread.

“Stupid creature!” Godefray said and pushed his share of bread into Ayla’s hands. “Eat!” he said.

Ayla’s hands spasmed hard, and the bread fell on the dirty floor. Godefray picked it up, cleaned it as best as he could, and took it to Ayla’s mouth