14
Firian
Apart from the burned stairs and the acrid smell of smoke and two more Torithians carting off treasures, Firian reached the Sentry without much incident. He was being kept in a tiny room on the ground floor by himself to focus. Firian entered swiftly and closed himself inside. The space was so small that the two pressed against each other. In his trance, the Sentry didn’t try to move away. The smell of parsley wafted up between them.
Firian’s head felt squeezed tight. This place was black as blindness, not only to the eyes, but to the mind, and he hated it.
“Let me go,” Firian demanded.
No answer.
“Can you hear me?”
A change in the cadence of the man’s breath told Firian he did, but the barrier remained immovably intact.
Firian reached for the man’s throat and held it. “L
