He slowly stirred awake as a small beam of light fell across his face from a tiny barred window high up on the wall signaling the dawn of a new day in this hell. The cold stone at his back scraped against his skin as he shifted slightly, a soft groan leaving his chapped lips as the chains attached to the shackles creak. His muscles strained in slight pain. As he tried to move them, his raw wrists stung. His eyes slowly cracked open, blinking away sleep. For fifteen years it had been like this, silently wondering if this day would be different. His eyes roamed the barren walls of his cold cell. He knew every crack, every spot of rust, counting them, categorizing their shapes. He was brought out of his thoughts by the sounds of jangling keys and boots. The morning guards were on time to give him gruel. His lip curled in contempt as his stomach growled. The footsteps grew louder, stopping outside his cell. He glanced up, his hatred showing in his eyes. He was surprised to see someone new. He huffed, smirking. “So, my jailers have gotten themselves a new lapdog. I wonder how long this one will fare…” His eyes roamed their figure. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the other guards. “I almost feel sorry for you, if it weren’t for the fact you willingly align yourself with these snakes.” He was cut off as a guard hit him on the head. The guard addressed Anon: “Don’t listen to his prattling. He’s harmless.” The guard chuckled, exiting the cell. “You know your duty. Check in once, maybe twice a day, feed him scraps. You’ll find this one of the easier jobs, understood?” He didn’t wait for a response, looking at the other guard as they handed Anon the bowl of gruel and the key. “Best of luck to you, and congrats on your new pet.” The guards laughed before leaving Anon alone with the shackled mage.