He was brought away from A’Trou’n’s household, and through tight corridors and large open caves within the stone hill that was the Blue-Stone Village, he was brought down to an area with smaller “houses.” Apparently, the village was divided into tiers. The wealthier and more important members of this settlement would live higher up, and those less wealthy—the serfs—lived closer to the mines, from where they gathered the stones that lit their homes and their world beneath.

Somehow, it reminded him of not only N’Sharan and the District of Copper, but also Atarkan; in Atarkan, the city where the Academy of the Heavenly was in the middle, the wealthier members of society lived closer to the academy, and the city itself was segregated with walls, some created by the many buildings and houses of the city, but also by the walls that were erected around the city, and some people would have to live outside those walls and risk the attacks of bandits and other rogue factions.

But then again, Anavasii was no different; the wealthier you were, the closer you would live to Kalma’s palace, which was no less than his grand temple. Not to mention Lo'Gran, the seat of power for both the crown and the Priesthood.

Wherever one went, it seemed that there’d always be such disparity in how people lived—some sort of trivial segregation of people by their class, status, or wealth. It seemed that it would always happen. Perhaps it was natural for creatures to form concepts like that.

And the more he thought about it, the more clearly he saw it. Humans, of all creatures in this world—whichever world this one happened to be—differentiated between people the most. And not just on the basis of the aforementioned reasons. No matter if we like it or not, such differentiation happens, often without us realizing that we have such a bias; thus, many won’t ever notice how they treat people differently based on those trivial and less trivial reasons.

At times, it is very clear to us that we do, and we are often very cognizant of this, especially in how we treat family and friends so differently from a random stranger or an acquaintance. One could argue that it just makes sense. Yes, we should treat those we love and care about better than those we might never meet again.

But what harm does it do to treat a stranger well?

A’Trou’n accompanied them, even if one might think that it was beneath its status to enter such a humble abode as the house of the agitated scholar who kept raving about the great discovery that they had made. Something about alien life forms and finally seeing not only the dancing shadows on the walls but that which might exist outside of the cave where they were chained.

It was uncertain what they might’ve meant by the latter, but the former made much more sense. He was as much of an alien life form to them as they were to him. When was the last time humans and Atheians had any contact? None could give an exact point in time, and it was unclear if they even had contact after the Atheians had discovered humans on their islands, where they had come from.

Lou’Deu’n was by no means a poor host in the usual sense. It did offer various small things for them to eat, not to mention water to drink; they were quite adamant at times that the “so-called Darshi” should try all of them. And when it placed these things in front of Kanrel, it would take its notebook and patiently wait to see what the alien creature might do next. “Will it or won’t it eat?” “Can it or can’t it drink?” Perhaps such were the questions in its inquisitive mind. But soon enough, it realized that the human would not have either, as it soon found out that Kanrel had already had food and drink.

“You should’ve waited for me.” Lou’Deu’n had muttered with clear disappointment in their voice as if it had been a great opportunity all but missed. But it moved on rather quickly; after all, there were many things it could examine. Things that were more like properties than anything else.

It wasn’t the first time today that he had been forced to take his clothes off.

“Can you make sure he treats me like a person instead of an animal?” Kanrel asked A'Trou'n, who rather keenly observed the now-naked man.

The Atheian scoffed in reply, “Do not speak human, lest he makes you speak for him for hours upon hours while trying to make sense of your strange tongue with its strange sounds... Trust me, you will prefer this over his many useless questions."

Kanrel let out a long sigh and gave no further protest.

Its fingers were delicate, as it would at times lift an arm or feel the sensation of hair on Kanrel’s thigh, all this while taking notes somehow; it had no pen to do so; instead, it just pointed at the notebook in its hand and made motions with its finger as if it were writing.

Soon it took out a wand-looking thing that was fairly long; it seemed to be about a meter in length, and it had markings on it at equal intervals. Its purpose was soon found out as the creature placed it against the ground right next to Kanrel, then Lou’Deu’n placed its finger to where it reached, then placed the wand to about where it had reached, the rest of the wand, about 30 centimeters of it, above Kanrel’s head.

The Atheian seemed satisfied: “It is about an ell and thirty inches tall, so a little less than seventy inches tall; quite short, if you ask me, no taller than the average Atheian in his or her early adolescence.”

Again, Lou’Deu’n took note and soon moved on to the next thing. This time, Kanrel was forced to sit on top of a small platform that was attached to the wall. On the wall was another small platform that rose higher the moment Kanrel sat on the other one. Then items of different sizes were introduced; they seemed to be metal or another heavier material, as Lou’Deu’n would use magic to lift them and place them upon the other platform until Kanrel’s platform and the one now filled with these objects were more or less on the same level.

“About one thousand four hundred and eighty-one ounces, so approximately ninety-two pounds... I must say, this is very worrying. If I were a doctor, I’d advise you to eat more. But then again, it could be that such a weight and height disparity is normal among your people, but I would be ready to doubt that.”

“A’Trou’n, I’d advise you to make sure that it eats well, lest we lose such an interesting subject.”

“And also, get me one of those pearls of yours; I’d really like to converse with this one, and I find it unlikely that I’d be allowed to do it by myself.” Lou’Deu’n then added.

A’Trou’n seemed to smile rather widely. “Worry not, my old friend, I shall gladly share with you what it might say, as I am sure that you’d much rather hear its own language spoken as well—this could be a great chance for you to study the language of these humans and try to make out potential translations.”

Lou’Deu’n lifted its gaze from Kanrel to the other Atheian; it seemed unimpressed but then changed its mind, almost instantly, and a smile came to its face as well: “I’d be hailed as a great genius if I managed to do such a thing.”

“Then, oh, One of Great Wealth, you must let me stay in your household, for we will have many long conversations ahead of us. Information that you might acquire that you’d like to keep for yourself, the crumbles that you might let me understand... but also the language, which I am so keen to decipher." Lou’Deu’n made a gesture, the same one that the servants had done in A’Trou’n’s house; it lifted its other hand toward its master, but it refused to kneel.

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A’Trou’n scoffed. “We both know that you would submit only to those of your faction... But I will let this transgression slide for now. Well, for as long as no information is leaked from here to the Grand Library..."

Lou’Deu’n smirked and let its hand drop to its side. “And I would expect the same of you... Keep your ‘herd’ away from him for now.”

A’Trou’n smirked in return, now offering its own hand, “Then, we have a deal.”

The other Atheian inspected the hand of the lord of this village; the suspicion was apparent, yet even then, it accepted it, and they shook upon this fragile deal that they had made. All the while, Kanrel could understand everything; all the while, he had learned something new about the people who hosted him.

The physical part of the examination was more or less finished, and Kanrel was finally allowed to dress himself. While Lou’Deu’n went around its house gathering things, some guards were invited in, and they were forced to carry the things that Lou’Deu’n would bring to them, be it by using whatever amount of magical ability they had or by just carrying them in their arms. And one of the guards was commanded to bring Y’Kraun to A’Trou’n’s house. The reason for this was left unsaid, but the guard saluted as would any servant of A’Trou’n and went ahead with the task it was given. Then they left Lou’Deu’n’s humble abode behind and soon returned to the far more comfortable and spacious house that was A’Trou’n’s mansion, which was carved into the very rock of the Blue-Stone Village.

By now, with the little information that he had received, Kanrel could guess what the situation was like within Atheian society. There was most likely a power struggle between factions within society. He wasn’t sure if this system was a monarchy or another form of governance, but either way, such factions would always form within any and all societies.

The aforementioned “Grand Library” that Lou’Deu’n seemed to be a part of and then the "Herd,” of which A’Trou’n was a member or a leader, based on the conversation that the two Atheians had had.

Both of the factions or groups clearly wanted something from Kanrel: the Grand Library wanted general knowledge, it would seem, and then the Herd wanted specific knowledge, most likely information about the Angels. For why else was that the moment during which his gracious host had the greatest reaction to his words? Everything else seemed to be nothing more than a curious topic to it, just something that was somewhat interesting, but at the first mention of the Angel that had contacted the first Herald, were there bright lights of greater interest and passion, even in the eyes of A’Trou’n.

From now on, he should be careful with such topics and not give too specific information, as he was unsure what their reaction would be to those that were, after all, the reason why the Atheians were now cast down beneath the ground. Would they turn hostile? Would they think of him as an enemy or even a spy sent below by the powerful creatures that had doomed them to this existence without the natural light and beauty of the world above?

It was all so dangerous. At any moment, the Atheians could decide that he was no longer needed and that he was no longer interesting enough for them to care about. So easily they could discard him; so easily he could be killed—perhaps a blessing, but not one that he would be ready to accept. Such had become his conclusion. He had only been confused by all that had happened; he was sure of it.

For it was clear that through every torturous moment and new suffering that had been brought his way, that had placed in-between him and the possibility of regaining himself as he once was, he wanted to live; he wanted to regain what was lost. To traverse past the regret and seize what belongs to him. So that he might enjoy that dance that he now so clearly remembered or a book that held nothing more than a story filled with romance and adventure, or once more hold a saber in his hands... so that he might... duel?

But that was not him. Why did he long for something he never was, never did or experienced? That memory—no, a life that he had lived as someone else—could he claim it as his own? Would he want to? For there remained regret and guilt as great as his own. He was unsure of whether it was right or not.

It was just that so far, no matter how much he tried to deny that memory and its place among his own memories, it still persisted. It refused to flee and to be forgotten, and when he would cast it away and chastise himself for remembering it and longing for it, it would return either way. No matter how he thought about it or felt about it, at least in the sense that he felt to be acceptable.

He would change. No. He had changed. It was clear. It could not be denied. That memory and all the memories related to it would change his course, no matter how he or anyone else felt or thought about them. And what would or would not be suitable, right or wrong, would be unable to determine or control it because the change had already happened; only that which was to come could he change, but only if he could catch it before it happened. Only if his own mind would still remain sound and be able to rationalize these emotions and thoughts in a way that was still him and not someone else.

He should stay true to the actions that he would take based on what he believed, felt, and thought to be right. But would he be able to? Kanrel wondered: would he lose more of himself than what he had lost so far?

He felt so tired after such a day. It was like he had slept for far too long and then had to stay awake for even longer. He had had to travel farther than he had ever before. He now had to deal with a world he'd never imagined before coming into contact with it. He had to deal with emotions and thoughts—his own actions and beliefs—under the scrutiny of a mind that at times felt like someone else—in a body that felt like it were not his own.

It was his body, right? It was his mind, right? They were his. They had to be... Yet he was not allowed to do as he wished, not in the visions of N’Sharan or in the court of Kalma. Everything since he stepped through the mirror and heard the voice that had beckoned him to “enter” had been pre-determined. Every outcome, every action, and maybe even the thoughts and feelings that he had regarding them... He could no longer be sure.

But it had brought him here in the end, to what was supposed to be his own body, commanded by what ought to be his own mind. Finally, he could make decisions and take actions of his own, but could he really? Here, the Atheians decided what he would eat, how he would dress, who was and wasn’t allowed to touch his body, and who he could speak with so that he could be understood.

Kanrel had hoped to be rid of this tyranny, but one tyrant had only changed to another. Life seemed far too fair.

For now, he’d submit to this race of people; for now, he’d be docile. For now, he’d do nothing that would go against them, unless they did something far too outrageous. He first needed to see where things were heading and what might be within the plans of his ever-so-gracious host. And he needed to find out just how powerful an average or even the mightier Atheian was in the field of magic before he might wield his own against them. Besides, as far as he could tell, there was no way out.