Oliver starred at the ceiling of his prison spread out atop the cot. It was a thin mattress. Soft but thin. The wood beneath pushed through the mattress with ease causing him discomfort against his head and lower back. Tossing and turning he tried to make the best of it. Opposite the door was a small barred window. Olive turned on his back once more in defeat. There was no beating this uncomfortable bed. He tilted his head back turning his gaze out the window. Even from this angle there wasn't much to see. It's size wasn't much longer than a tiny toy chest you might find in a child's room. In its gap were four thick iron bars. Slime could get out of this easy, but not Oliver. He began to imagine all the clever ways his friend could escape. Slime could easily mold his body to the frame and wiggly free. Or perhaps elongate himself into a poll and crawl out like a caterpillar or maybe a snake.

Sitting up on the edge of the bed he looked down at the stone floor. Now imaging his friend being able to spread himself so thing he'd seep into the cracks of the floor and carefully navigate his underground. He could fall down into another room or shift himself through the soil until he came out to the surface once more. Then he turned his head to the door and saw the handle. He smiled. Knowing too well how easy it would be for Slime to slip through the keyhole of the door. That's when he suddenly had an idea.

"I can't believe I didn't think of that before!" He exclaimed. A clap echoed throughout the chamber as his feet struck the floor. Looking at the door he pulled his fists back against his ribs.

"I can use magic. So, I'll magic my way out of here." Narrowing his eyes on the keyhole he stood in silence. Concentrating his mind and his body. Then he thrust his hand forward.

"Open!" His voice commanded the lock to open and silence filled the room. He continued in this position afraid moving might break his focus. When nothing changed he widened his eyes glaring harder at the lock. Grunting he pushed his had a little more forward. But nothing. He bent his knees and grunted in protest as he stretched forward a little more. The door remained locked.

Growling he quickly pulled his right hand back and thrust his left forward pointing harshly at the door.

"Zap!" His voice boomed. Again no magic appeared.

"Freeze!" His arm waived.

"Jolt!"

"Burn!"

"Combust!"

He pointed different fingers. Thrust his hands in different arm movements. Kicked at the door. Spun in circles jetting both hands forward in exclamations. He even tried shuffling side to side, spinning around, landing with his back to the door and bending over pointing at the door between his legs. But to no avail. Magic never did emerge from the boy.

He flopped down onto the cold floor, defeated.

"I didn't even feel anything." His voice spoke softly as he looked as his hands. He hadn't felt a single surge or tingle anywhere through his body. He remembered being able to cast a spell in the goblin's den. Why he couldn't cast a single spell now was beyond him. Oliver climbed back into his bed. Turning to face the stone wall in frustrated defeat.

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"Dad. Where are you?" As the words left his mouth an audible pop came into his head and his eyes widened.

A low ringing enveloped him and images began to come to life in dark brown and tan hues. The first was that of a dense forest. Its leaves varied between light, almost white, tan and dark brown. A jolt like noise came and the image changed. A large building surrounded by the same kind of trees he saw before. Another jolt and an image of a bald bearded man talking to someone started. they were talking. The bald man lead the person away. Books were soaring throughout the air and flying, shrinking, and disappearing into the mans coat. The image jumped to the man's face. It was Darcy, his father. He passed through a door and the image changed again.

"I didn't think we'd be meeting so soon." His father tipped his head at a tall dark figure with hollow white eyes.

The image shifted once more showing the two in combat. A large talon emerged from the chest of the shadowy figure lunging towards Darcy. In quick succession different short images came and played through his mind before all went black. The horrifying screech of the figure rang through his mind. And with sound of a popping cork his vision returned to the stone wall.

"Dad?" He called out sitting up. Different thoughts swirled through his mind as he tried to make sense of what he just saw. This same ability had triggered when he was escaping from the words and it had shown him images of what was about to happen.

"Does that mean? Dad, are you going to be okay?" Worry hung on his words as he peered over his shoulder out the tiny cell window. While he couldn't see the sky it was obvious the sun was beginning to set. Almost night and he hadn't heard from Cedric, or a guard, or anything.

No one came down the hallway the rest of the night. Dinner, if you could call it that, seemed to had been supplied by Cedric during his interrogation. His stomach grumbled desperate for food. Then a hum filled Oliver's mind.

Derelict is at the window. That idea suddenly emerged into his mind.

A faint glow flooded into his cell followed by a familiar voice.

"Oliver, you in there?" It was Derelict.

"Derelict!" Jumping to his feet. A wooden screech cried out as Oliver hands grasped the iron bars pulling himself up and close. "It is you!"

The old man chuckled and nodded.

"Aye, it is. But why are you down there?" His raspy withered voice asked.

"They called me a monster sympathizer and said I was plotting to kill the queen or something."

"Are you?"

"No!" He barked glaring at the man.

"I figured. I thought I'd bring you this." Kneeling he set his lantern on the ground and pulled out a small sized object. He carefully placed it between the bars for Oliver to grab.

"What's this?" His feet fell back onto the chair as he pulled the object down. Now he could see that it was a red checkered cloth. As he unwrapped it he found inside a sausage, a small bun, and a cookie.

"Oh Derelict, you're a life safer!"

"Shh!" Derelict exclaimed in a whisper as he quickly rose to his feet.

"Did you hear that?" A man said.

"I think it came from the alley?" Another replied.

"We better take a look."

"Ack." The old man groaned whisking his lantern from the ground he stepped away from the prison wall.

"Thanks Derelict, and sorry!" Oliver said softly through the window. He caught a glimpse of the man waving for him to be quiet.

"You there!" Oliver heard a guard exclaim as a pair of guards stomped passed his window.

Now that Derelict had left only a small shine from the moon made it into his cell. Excited for the gift his friend had brought him he moved his chair to the opposite wall so that he might eat in the light of the moon. As he sat down in the light it enveloped him and embarrassed him with warmth. Just like the sun would have done during the day. Then a sense of calm washed over his spirit. While some might have thought something otherworldly or magical might be happening. Oliver scarfed his food and chalked it up to the warmth he felt from his belly. Happy and full he crawled back onto the cot and drifted quietly to sleep. He felt a gentle touch against his head a soft kiss against his forehead. A smile slide across his face and not another sound or event happened until morning.