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Nithel breathed in and out, trying to catch his breath. Trying to understand. Had he fallen in a pit? Unlikely. Voices. Stone ground.

He felt at his side to make sure his sword was still strapped to him. Someone was talking to him. Voice kind. He didn’t know if he believed in kindnes- But no, he did. Nithel pushed his chest up a bit, then his chest jumped when the one speaking said his name. Who– His brows furrowed. A youth. I’ve… seen you before. *thoughts/trying to remember* Nithel’s throat was dry as he swallowed, then let out a wary breath. “Hello.” The greeting was more guarded than he would have liked. Not the customary one, or hospitable. He looked away, eyes running over the packed room, seeing where he was. Am I the son of my Father? He wavered a moment, then answered, Yes.

But more dread filled his heart the more he saw, and he really felt like he’d been in this place before. That he’d dropped before. Memories tickled the back of his mind, and fear. No. Nithel’s eyes darted back to the youth. No. It wasn’t real… Except for the leather strap around his neck. Apparently it all was.
And the youth knew him.

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