Seven
I have no idea how much time has passed when I peel my eyelids apart and blink into the darkness. I give myself a few moments to recall what happened before I fell asleep. No, before I passed out. Before magic knocked me unconscious.
Before I became a prisoner.
I try to sit up, and that’s when I realize my arms are bound behind my back and that something—dark fabric of some sort—covers my face. I start to panic then. It’s too close—way too close—right up against my mouth, suffocating me—
The fabric is tugged upward, revealing an unfamiliar bearded man standing in front of me. He steps back, dropping the blue-black material—a pillowcase, judging by its shape—onto the floor. A hurried glance around me as I suck in a few deep breaths reveals a nondescript room. Fairly dark. No windo
