Riker's tongue begged for a taste of water. It longed to tatse the sweet sensation of roasted chicken, mashed potataoes, or hot and fluffy bread.

Sweat and blood made a pool of liqued near the drainage, which was so clogged with his blood and some small pieces of flesh that it stopped draining completely.

Guards filed into Riker's cell with spears pointed at him. He had no energy left to lift his head. To much blood had been beaten out of him to even open his eyes and watch or listen as the soldiers yelled words. Their words muffled under the loud ringing in Riker's ears. It had been ringing for hours and hours.

The cold manacle on his wrist was roughly removed by guards. He was then thrown into a smaller iron cell that has a tiny spot to releive himself, which he did quickly after he gained enough consciousness.

"You get one meal a day!" The tall guard informed Riker as he pushed a large tray with food - mush! - towards him. Riker wrinkled his nose and almost threw up at the smell. The mush was a grey and brown glob with a leaf on top. No water had been given to help Riker devour the mush. Not a single drop.

Ash started to form on his skin as the hours passed by. The mush still in Riker's throat, trying to be swallowed, refusing each time, made the hours become slower and slower. Rats started to to bite at his scabbed fingers once Riker stopped struggling to brake free. Blood, red with sadness, stained the cell. The iron floor began to melt around Riker as he fell into a deep sleep.

[*]

Riker awoke from his sleep, jerkily. He had dreamed about Ptolema's death. He envisioned her limp body lying at the King's feet. The harsh laugh that came from the King's throat had made Riker want to murder the King. Droian's face looked paler then usual. His eyes seemed bloodshot. An ache in his heart was displayed all over him. Had he loved Ptolema? Had he known her?

Riker didn't want the thought of the Prince liking Ptolema to be left in his mind. The way the Prince looked her over; the way he grinned at her, with his devil eyes; Riker hated all of it.

His body is too numb to move. He moved his foot toward the other wall, but it would not stretch all the way out inside the small cell. The cell is a five by six foot, made with iron. Of course the cell would be made of iron. Years ago, when you weren't killed for having magic, iron was the only metal that could withhold magic - contain it. Magic turned the world into shit. Complete shit.

A boom came from the iron cell's door. A short, muscular guard came in a second later. Riker shifted his sitting position to look at the guard. Riker grimaced as pain shot through his entire body.

"The Prince would like me to inform you..."

"That I'm a dumbass? Sorry to tell you, but i already knew that."

The guard glared at Riker for a long time before speaking again. "I hope you die slowly."

Riker laughed. "I'm not dying yet, bitch."

"I know, you will die tomorow at the Circle entrance at noon. Goodnight."

Riker sat dumbstruck as the guard exited. He couldn't die tomorow. Riker felt his heart pound harder while the guard closed the metal door. Riker sat and thought how to get out.

By the time night fell, Riker had a plan.