I walked over to the far wall of my cell and sat down. I wanted to get back up, but my legs had finally had enough, so I just leaned my head against the wall. The little energy I'd saved up from dozing off was seemingly worn away by the elder and his group. I tried to close my eyes again, but it was even more difficult now; I could feel their stares lingering on me.

I thought about what they'd said and everything that had happened since the surgery. It was obvious to me now that whatever was on that table had been some kind of object of worship for the cultists. The pieces placed inside me must have caused me to consume the goblins—or at least I hoped so. Finally, whatever the contractor had done made me able to feel the fire as though it were part of me. It was a lot to process, and slightly overwhelming. It was hard to think of myself as human at this point and was there any point in being human? Maybe whatever I became could finally be free if Lord Thorne was to be believed but considering where I was, I was doubtful of that.

I let my focus drift to the weak flames that lit the walls, their faint flickering casting restless shadows. I wanted to see if I could manipulate them, and when I really tried, I felt like I made one drift slightly to the left. I couldn't be sure if it actually moved, but I felt it. It was kind of pathetic, really; just attempting that left me drenched in sweat and out of breath.

After a little while longer, I finally fell asleep. My dreams carried me to an endless void dotted with tiny motes of light, drifting aimlessly. When I tried to focus on one, it disappeared, but as I adjusted, I realized I could observe them better with my peripheral vision. As I honed in further, I could discern some details: they weren't just lights—they were tiny people with golden wings.

The more I focused, the blurrier everything became, as though the act of looking too closely warped the dream itself. Amidst the growing haze, a massive golden flame appeared in the distance, its glow radiating warmth even in the void. I tried to move toward it, but before I could reach it, my eyes opened.

A guard stood in front of my cell, holding a bucket of water. He looked like he was about to throw it at me, but when he saw I was awake, he stepped inside and set it down along with a bowl of brownish-grey gruel studded with hard chunks of meat.

"Eat and drink," he said curtly. "I'll be back soon to take you to the training area."

I obeyed without hesitation. It was the first food I'd had since the forest, and it tasted divine despite its unappetizing appearance. I tore into it, eating voraciously and chugging down the water as though I might never see another drop.

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From across the hallway, one of the cultists—a woman—stepped closer to the bars of her cell. Her soft voice carried an almost maternal tone. "Blessed one, you must eat slower. You'll make yourself sick."

Her words startled me, but the kindness in her tone made me pause. I forced myself to slow down, nodding slightly in her direction. "I will, sister. Thank you."

I mimicked the respectful tone and slight head nod I'd seen others use when addressing someone of higher status but of the same social class. She smiled faintly, but there was something in her eyes— a knowing look. I quickly returned my attention to my meal, slightly queasy under her gaze.

The guard returned just as I finished eating, the heavy door screeching open once more. "Follow, and don't waste my time," he barked, already turning to walk away.

I got to my feet, my legs still sore and rubbery from everything that had happened the night before—assuming it had only been one night. As I followed him into the dim corridor, I glanced back at the cultists. One of them—a younger woman—moved swiftly to the bars, her footsteps muffled against the stone floor. She held out a small pendant, its surface glinting faintly in the flickering firelight.

"Take this," she whispered urgently. "It will give you the protection of the Immortal Flame."

I hesitated, a strange tightness blooming in my chest near the hardened organ. My mind wanted to reach out, but my body rebelled, as if warning me to stay away. Despite the conflict, I took the pendant and tucked it into my shirt. The guard didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't care.

As I walked, the pendant felt unnaturally warm against my skin, pulsing faintly like a second heartbeat. It wasn't unpleasant, but it wasn't exactly comforting either. What did she mean by "protection"? And why had she looked so desperate when she handed it over?

The hallway stretched on, lit by the faint orange glow of torches. The flames flickered softly, their shadows dancing against the cold stone walls. I couldn't feel the fire with the pendant on, but it felt as though everything else became sharper, clearer.

We ascended the same stairs I had come down earlier, but this time, we turned down a different hallway. It looked much the same as the others, except for the blood spattered across the floor. It wasn't an overwhelming amount, but enough to suggest that someone had been badly injured.

At the end of the hallway, we came to a set of doors that looked even sturdier than the others I'd seen. The guard pushed them open, grunting with effort as he forced them to move.

I was blinded by the light for a moment as I stepped forward. Once my eyes adjusted, I looked around, taking in my surroundings. It was like standing at the center of a massive bowl. We had entered a flat, sand-covered area encircled by towering walls. Beyond the walls were rows upon rows of seats, all empty. The sheer height and scale of it all made me feel dizzy. I quickly turned my gaze forward, trying to steady myself.

Ahead of us stood a group of men and women, all dressed similarly to me. Scattered around were guards stationed at each set of doors. In front of the group was a man clad in bright red armor, adorned with gold ornaments that glinted in the light.