Months slipped by, each day bleeding into the next in a blur of monotony. Habondia, adrift in a sea of darkness and doubt, struggled to anchor herself to a reality that seemed to slip further from her grasp with each passing moment. The passage of time became a nebulous concept, a distant memory.

Gudit's melodic chanting filled the cramped cell, whispered prayers that reverberated off the cold stone walls. Habondia, her curiosity piqued by the woman's devotion, found herself drawn to the haunting cadence of Gudit's plea. The echoes of her own doubts and fears mingled with the ethereal notes of Gudit's prayers.

"What is it that you pray? What are you asking for?" Habondia's voice pierced the sacred silence that accompanied them. Gudit remained lost in communion with unseen forces beyond their prison walls. For a moment, the only response was the soft rustle of Gudit's garments as she shifted in her meditative trance.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Gudit said something, "Pray for you, my dear," she spoke, her voice soothing. The weight of her words settled upon Habondia like a heavy burden.

"For me?" Habondia's voice trembled with disbelief. The woman's next words were like a bucket of cold water. "My child... I know you are not to blame for anything. What happened was beyond your control, you do not deserve to rot here like me."

Habondia dragged herself closer to the bars that separated them. "Why are you here? What exactly did you do?" Her words hung in the air like a silent plea.

Gudit's laughter, a melodious sound that rang with a hint of bitterness, cut through the heavy air like a blade honed by years of hardship. "That's the wrong question, my dear. I did many things, but not the things I needed to." Her cryptic response left Habondia with more questions than answers, a sense of unease gnawing at the edges of her consciousness.

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"Can I see your face?" Habondia's question, born of a sudden surge of curiosity, revealed a longing for bonding buried deep within her wounded soul.

"It is not necessary, it is disfigured and emaciated. Additionally, I cannot remove this veil because my hands are tied. Thaumaturgy is needed, too."

“Thaumaturgy?” Habondia wondered. “I have not been able to cast Thaumaturgy since I've been here. I did not even remember that I could do it.”

“Zielony, the drug added to our food, prevents us from casting. It even makes us forget about it. Also, our chains, shackles, and the bars of the cells are made of Nebieski. That is to say, we are unable to cast thaumaturgy.”

“No way,” Habondia’s eyes filled with tears.

“You better rest, my dear.”

The next day, the faint clink of metal against metal echoed through the dimly lit corridor. Habondia, her eyes heavy with exhaustion, watched as the guardsmen approached with their meager rations. Gudit received her portion with a quiet grace.

As the guards turned their attention to Habondia, a sense of defiance flickered in her eyes. "I'm not hungry now," she whispered, her voice a fragile thread of resistance.

"We won't leave until you are," the guard's words sounded harsh and oppressive in her ears. Habondia acquiesced to their demands, her hands moving mechanically to lift the meager sustenance to her lips. The taste of bland soup, devoid of any seasoning, left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth.

It had been nearly a year since Habondia arrived. And as late November crept upon them, a day forgotten by all but one, Habondia awoke to the soft murmur of Gudit's voice.

"Happy birthday," Gudit said.

"What?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. "How do you know?"

"There are many things I know, my dear." Gudit's cryptic response left a trail of unanswered questions in its wake. Habondia approached the bars to stare at her clearly.

"Tell me about yourself," Habondia implored, her voice a fragile whisper. Gudit seemed to hesitate before speaking. "I am a 61-year-old woman from the Kingdom of Aksum. I have been locked up in this place for about 23."

"But what did you do to deserve this?" Habondia asked, her voice trembling.

"I have already told you, my dear. That's the wrong question." Gudit coughed. “In 12 years, I will be executed on the gallows.”

Habondia never spoke to her again. She curled up in the corner of the cell.