Time passed, yet for Amanu, it stretched painfully, each moment feeling like an eternity. Only 4 days had gone by, but his entire world had turned upside down, and now he found himself confined within a dim, dank cell. The last place he ever imagined he'd be. He sat against the cold stone wall; his bare feet numb against the filthy, bloodstained floor. The air was thick with rot, and every inhale felt like breathing in despair itself. Yet, even in this grim setting, his thoughts lingered only on Fleora—his pregnant wife. He knew the stress she must be enduring, the fear for him could harm their unborn child. Shame churned within him, gnawing at his heart. In his mind, he had failed as both a father and a husband.
The cell's darkness and chill gnawed at his body and mind. His wrists ached from the tight cuffs, the metal digging painfully into his skin each time he moved. Sometimes, he forced his hands to shift, deliberately pressing against the steel, as a distraction from the thoughts that haunted him. Amanu's brown hair was disheveled, his face and clothes streaked with dirt and blood. He hadn't taken a bath since leaving home. His once-white shirt was now torn and filthy, as were his tattered gray trousers. The raincoat he had on was left in the forest.
"Clang!" The sharp sound of metal meeting metal echoed down the hallway, piercing the silence. Amanu's head shot up, his dull eyes meeting the harsh stare of a towering, bald man in a gray uniform. Keys dangled from his left hip, and he held a heavy, black baton in his right hand. The man tapped the baton against the iron bars, a smug grin spreading across his face.
"Hey there, little fella," the warden sneered, slowly unlocking the cell door and stepping inside. He towered over Amanu, casting a shadow that made Amanu feel small, defenseless.
The warden clicked his tongue disapprovingly, his smile widening. "Common courtesy, boy—answer when someone greets you." Without warning, the baton connected with Amanu's face, the force throwing him off the bench and onto the cold, grimy floor. His head spun as he tasted blood. But he didn't cry out, didn't flinch. Pain had become a familiar companion. Since his arrival in this cell, different wardens had made it a point to pummel him. His crime of desecrating the sacred river had earned him their unforgiving wrath.
The warden continued, blow after blow, forcing Amanu to struggle just to sit up. After a few minutes, the warden finally ceased, letting the baton fall to his side as he caught his breath, casting an indifferent glance at Amanu's bruised, bleeding form.
"Hey, scum," he taunted, his voice dripping with contempt, "are you still alive down there? Don't go dying on me now." He looked down at Amanu, barely able to conceal his disgust. "I've heard stories of fools sneaking into Danvis for a better life," he continued, leaning back with a smug smirk. "But you? Yours takes the cake. Imagine you're keeping your house spotless for years, barely even going in yourself—and one day, you find a filthy hooligan lying there, flies buzzing around him. Wouldn't that make you mad?"
Amanu managed to push himself up slightly, blood dripping from his face as he met the warden's gaze with quiet defiance. "That's how everyone feels in Danvis right now," the warden sneered. "Your story's spread across the kingdom—everyone wants a glimpse of the dirty Non-Maver who defiled their sacred river."
The warden stood, straightening his uniform. "Oh, I almost forgot," he chuckled. "I was sent to fetch you." His gaze roamed over Amanu's bloodied face with a wicked gleam. "Now, how to explain all these bruises… Maybe I'll say you tried to escape. Not that anyone would care." He let out a loud, cruel laugh as he grabbed Amanu by his torn shirt, lifting him effortlessly and slinging him over his shoulder. Amanu barely resisted, feeling the strength of this giant, who appeared to be larger than even than Luzo.
The warden carried him down the dim corridor, the hallway echoing with the sound of their footsteps. They reached a large door, and the warden knocked.
"Enter," came a voice from within.
The warden opened the door, and Amanu immediately felt the change—a warm room, starkly different from the cold of the prison. Behind a large desk sat Luzo, stacks of papers at his side, his gaze sharp and unfeeling.
"I've brought the criminal, Mr. Luzo," the warden announced, bowing slightly.
"Sit him down and leave us," Luzo ordered, gesturing toward a chair. The warden lowered Amanu into the seat and exited, leaving the two of them alone.
Luzo watched him closely, his expression unreadable. "I believe I haven't formally introduced myself, Mr. Savada." He leaned forward, folding his hands. "I am Tsukushi Luzo, head of the Danvis legal system."
Amanu remained silent, his gaze steady despite the pain.
"If the records are correct, you are Amanu Savada, 27 years old, born in the village of Ziwa, Arkon district. You are married to Fleora Savada, 25 years old, and she is currently two months pregnant." Luzo's words were precise, cold, as if listing facts from an impersonal report.
"Yes," Amanu managed to say, his voice hoarse and weak.
Luzo's expression shifted almost imperceptibly. "Your story has spread through the kingdom. This places me in quite the predicament, Mr. Savada," he said. "The entire kingdom wants to see the Non-Maver who defiled their sacred treasure and trespassed into Danvis's hallowed ground." His tone hardened. "I've summoned you here to inform you that your trial will take place tomorrow."
Amanu felt a glimmer of desperation spark within him, despite his battered state. "Can I see my wife?"
Luzo's gaze softened just a fraction. "I'm afraid that's not possible at the moment. But I've had people notify her of your… situation. She has been given permission to attend your trial tomorrow."
Amanu didn't know how to feel at this moment. He was happy now that his wife knows he is still alive, but for how long? And what would happen to her if, no, when they find him guilty. Would they execute him right in front of her?
"Thank you," he murmured, struggling with the mixture of emotions overwhelming him.
"You're welcome," Luzo replied, his voice devoid of warmth. He looked over Amanu's injuries with clinical detachment. "You'll be allowed to clean up and rest before tomorrow. Consider what you will say in your defense."
Luzo called the warden back and instructed him to take Amanu to the showers and prepare him to rest for tomorrow. The warden complied, lifting Amanu onto his shoulder and heading out of the room. Luzo watched them leave, murmuring to himself, "Strange." He'd noticed Amanu's wounds had ceased bleeding entirely, and even the smaller cuts on his hands had fully healed. Glancing at Amanu one last time before the door closed, he wondered, "The records say he has no Mave energy, yet I swear I can sense a faint flow within him." He looked at the blood-stained chair where Amanu had sat." Who are you, Amanu Savada?"