Kain opened his eyes. Giving it a second for his eyes to adjust to the light, he soon realized it wasn’t natural. The curtains were fully covering the windows. If Kain’s memory served him right, it was far from morning when he passed out.

So there was a downside.

He slipped out of bed, laying around wouldn’t get him anywhere. If he wanted information, he had to find whoever it was that brought him there. Placing his feet on the ground, the first thing he noticed was that there was a fur rug placed to the side of the bed. In front of the rug, there were two pairs of slippers. Looking around the room, it was becoming more unlikely that the person who brought him there had bad intentions. It was too nice, too posh. There was a chandelier in the middle of the room. It, like the bed he was just laying on, was immaculately designed. On the other side of the chandelier there was what looked like a private living room, the furniture looking beautiful. On the walls, there was a range of paintings. From what he could see from afar, they looked exquisite. Kain moved closer to get a better look. As he went from frame to frame, he was enchanted. The paintings told the stories of war; the euphoria of victory, the sorrow of defeat, the brighter future that was promised, the lives lost along the way.

There were nine paintings in total and when Kain reached the final one, he was taken aback. The first and last paintings were very similar, largely identical even. They were the simplest of the nine. They both featured a king, magnificently dressed, sitting on a golden throne. The king was the focal point, sitting high above everyone else. Behind him were paintings of his conquests, below him were his people. In the first painting his people are his soldiers. He addresses them, points them towards the evil scourge that is their enemy. He rallies them. In the final painting, his people appeared to be nobles. They, like the king, wore the most extravagant of clothing. At first glance, one would think they were insulting the king. They questioned his legacy, openly wondering how great of a king he was if he could not completely dominate his neighbors. One even asked if he had the qualifications to lead a country at all. It was odd. There weren't too many kings who were known for letting their courts be so loose. Any that did wouldn’t be king for long, assuming they ever truly were. It wasn’t until you looked at the painting closer could you see. The people in the second painting weren't nobles at all, they were past rulers. The paintings behind the king weren’t of his own conquests, but of theirs.

Kain stood at the last painting for a while, processing it. The story up until that point, while full of the trials and tribulations involved with war, was a great tale about the few beautiful moments one could find in it. If it had somehow ended in tragedy, it would have been an acceptable twist that Kain would have simply shrugged off. To instead render the whole journey meaningless, it struck him.

What kind of person has such art?

A few minutes later, Kain slapped his face. He needed to refocus, he hadn’t gotten out of bed to admire art. Intent on figuring out who the woman who came in was and gaining some information from her, he head towards the door.

Kain could already make a few assumptions about his situation.

Judging by the content of the paintings, this can’t be the baron’s mansion. They definitely weren’t the type to have such things. The content aside, they paintings themselves were still rather lavish. Their frames alone looked like they cost a dir. I can't imagine how much the painter charged for his art. There’s just way too much affluence in the air. This couldn’t be just any merchant’s home. It has to be one of the bigger ones and if it’s one of them it can only mean one thing. They want my powers.

Kain stopped right before he opened the door. Meeting the owner was no longer desirable, it may even be a little risky. Those with wealth and power rarely took no as an answer.

He could be holding mom hostage.

What? No. I just—.

Shut up. I need to think.

Whoever put him here must have some form of interest in war. They wouldn’t have such paintings otherwise. Best case scenario, they shared the artists beliefs. Worse case scenario, they were the type that didn’t care and just enjoyed the bloodshed. Kain didn’t want to find out which side of the coin he’d have to face. He needed to find his mom and get out immediately.

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Wow. You really escalated that huh?

Did you not hear the shut up? If you have nothing useful to add, be quiet.

Is that all it takes for you to lose your cool, paintings?

Not usef—.

The maid is coming back.

What?

Kain listened for the sound of footsteps. He couldn’t hear anything at first, but as he steadied his breathing a faint sound reached his ears. He raced back into the bed. His mind may have been playing tricks on him, but he couldn’t disregard it. If the woman was actually a maid and she was heading towards him, he couldn’t let the opportunity to get some information slip by.

Sitting on top of the bed, he waited. To his delight, the wait wasn’t long. In a few short moments, he could hear the doorknob twisting. He put on the most tired and confused look he could muster and slowly looked towards the door.

The woman that walked in definitely wasn’t a maid. She was wearing a full set of leather armour. There were no weapons attached to her waist, but that didn’t mean much if she was a malsir. Kain didn’t want to think too deeply about it. The fact alone that a soldier was sent to his room concerned him enough. The woman noticed Kain was awake and started to speak, but hesitated. From Kain’s perspective, it was almost looked like she flinched. He didn’t react to it. Instead he chose to initiate the conversation.

“Hello? Who are you?”

The woman shook her head slightly. Clearing her throat, she bowed, “My name is Glacia Tevin. I’m currently serving as an arberdir for the Fortem family. I’ve been tasked with taking care of you.”

That's right! There was a malsir that night. There was only one person it could have been.

Kain laid back down, slowly. Making sure to evoke the right level of exhaustion into his voice, he spoke, “I see. Where am I? Is my mom safe?”

The woman replied immediately, “Your mother is fine. She’s being treated for an ankle injury, but she's had no problem visiting you daily. This is the Fortem’s guest bedroom. Master Fortem is currently in his library, I will go inform him that you're awake.”

The woman made a quick exit, leaving Kain baffled. She was geared like a soldier would be, yet she seemed afraid of him. Kain would have pursued the matter further, but he had gain valuable information.

She’s safe, but not here.

You do know she didn’t say anything different from what I said right?

Kain, who always had a snide remark lined up, was given pause. He was right. That was the exact same thing he told him. Kain blinked furiously, his brain trying to understand what that meant. Somehow the voice in his head had access to information he didn’t. That had never happened before. It wasn’t even supposed to be possible. It made no sense. The voice wasn't supposed to be anything but that, a voice.

Wait a minute. What are you?

Oh so now you want to talk?

That’s exactly what I would say, exactly what I’d expect you to s—.

Yeah I get it. While its killing me to reply sarcastically, the truth is I don’t know what I am. I know I think like you and have the same memory as you, but I'm different. I also know a whole lot more than you.

Kain's brain was struggling to process what was happening. While the reality in front of him was telling him that the voice in his head couldn't simply be a voice, that fact contradicted everything.

Okay...yeah. Sure. What does ‘more’ mean?

How to use sahir. What it is.

That’s it?

I...You know what? Yes. That’s it.

I’ll come back to that. More importantly, have you always been in my head?

No no no. I’ve only been here for half of the journey. In other words, yes you did used to actually talk to the voices in your head.

I don’t know whether I should be happy or disappointed.

Kain got out of bed again, this time he slid into the slippers. He was struggling to believe anything anymore, but there were more important things he needed to tackle. There were snacks on the table in his little private living room and he was starving.

I must be the chosen one or something. I was weird enough before, but now I learn I can use sahirlah and I have some sort of sentient voice in my head. All within a day too.

Well...they’re actually like a week apart so it’s not that bad.

...

“What?”