See the Light Chapter 1 Bound in Darkness

The Endless Days

I lost track of time in those wretched places they put me at night where the walls seemed to close in on me, as if they too were conspiring to make my captivity unbearable. Each day felt like an eternity, the hours stretching endlessly, while the nights dwindled into mere moments of restless, haunted slumber. The world outside was changing rapidly, the days growing longer, the nights shorter, as if the very fabric of time was being pulled and twisted around me…

When we traveled during the days it felt like an eternity, my feet dragging across the unforgiving terrain, each step a reminder of my captivity. My mind, still fractured, struggled to piece together the events that had brought me here. Home was still a distant, muffled memory, like a dream fading at dawn. I could recall the essence of the people I loved—my family—but their faces, their voices, remained elusive, like ghosts haunting the edges of my consciousness. It was as though they were merely shadows, their presence lingering in my mind but just out of reach.

The landscape we traversed was undeniably beautiful, a stark contrast to the torment I felt within. The mountains rose like silent sentinels, their peaks cutting into the sky, while the valleys below were lush and teeming with life. Despite the harsh treatment I endured, I found myself almost grateful for the simplicity of it all. I was fed, given orders, and for once, I didn’t have to think or plan. My mind, still reeling from whatever had happened, needed this time to heal. But beneath that calm, a plan was slowly taking shape. I knew I had to escape, and I needed to be ready when the opportunity came.

We stayed on the safe road, or so they called it. The very name disturbed me, for if there was a safe road, there had to be a dangerous one as well. That knowledge alone kept me from attempting an early escape. The thought of running off into the unknown, into a darkness teeming with creatures I could not even imagine, was enough to make me bide my time.

The food they gave me was still strange, even though I do not know how long it has been the concoctions still didn’t taste good but somehow made me feel stronger with each meal. I gues I must have been injured, but I couldn’t remember any such thing. My body felt whole, yet there was an underlying sense of something being wrong, as if my memories themselves had been fractured.

At night, we would gather around the fire, the travelers exchanging stories of heroes, heroines, and the monsters they battled. I listened closely, trying to make sense of it all, searching for clues that might explain my situation. There was one traveler, older than the rest, who spoke with a sophistication that set him apart. He had once been a librarian or something similar, though I never caught the full story. He would recite tales from old books by the fire, his voice weaving a tapestry of words that painted vivid pictures in my mind.

That night, he spoke of the land we traveled through, describing it as a place untouched by time, where nature flourished in ways that defied imagination.

“In these mountains,” he began, his voice low and resonant, “lies a path, a safe path, that winds through a realm untouched by human hands. Here, nature’s beauty is otherworldly, a spectacle that transcends the ordinary. The air itself hums with an ancient melody, as if the very world sings in harmony with those who walk this path. The trees here are tall and slender, their leaves glowing with a soft, luminescent light. Flowers bloom in colors unseen by human eyes, their petals shimmering like stardust under the moon’s gaze. Vines, woven with threads of pure magic, reach out as if to guide the way, while the ground beneath your feet pulses with a gentle, almost imperceptible energy.”

His words captivated me, painting a picture of a world that was both terrifying and beautiful. But the other travelers seemed unmoved, some drifting off to sleep after a few too many pints of whatever they were drinking. It struck me as odd, their indifference to the story’s beauty. But then again, these were not tales of heroism or battle; they were simply the histories of the land, factual myths as the old man called them. Not as exciting as battle storie I guess.

The nextr day as we walked on, the city loomed closer, its silhouette rising against the horizon. The idea of a city brought with it a glimmer of hope. In a city, I could hide, blend in, perhaps even find a way to escape. We were no longer surrounded by the nothingness of the road or the dangers of the wild. The city was safe—or so I told myself. But safety in the city had its own dangers: the brutes, the thieves, and other unsavory types who thrived in the shadows. I pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the plan that had been forming in my mind over the past few days.

We arrived at a small town, a cluster of buildings huddled together as if for warmth. They took me to a place they called an inn, though it resembled more of a pub by my standards. The sign outside read “The Prickly Hedgehog,” an odd name that seemed fitting for such an establishment. I was taken to a room upstairs, my hands still bound, and told to stay put. Well, it wasn’t much of a room—no bed, just a few quilts and covers piled in the corner. Below, I could hear the sounds of the inn: voices raised in argument, the occasional crash of a fight breaking out, and the constant hum of conversation. There was something missing, a sensation or a sound that I couldn’t quite place, but I was too focused on my escape plan to dwell on it.

This was it. My chance. The city was a place where I could disappear, where I could find refuge, and from there, maybe, just maybe, find a way to remember who I was. I knew I had to act tonight, before they had a chance to move me again.