“Hello there... um... I suppose you can tell me how I got here?” Kaelen’s voice echoed softly across the chamber, like a question tossed into a canyon and waiting to see what shape it returns in.
His eyes narrowed at the figure standing against the far wall—an old man, with his arms tucked behind his back, a straight posture but with an oddly curious gaze. Sahrak stepped forward, as the light from the wall-torches casted a flicker across the sharp lines of his face. “You don’t remember?” he asked, knitting his brows.
Kaelen tilted his head slightly, scratching under his scruffy chin like he was trying to coax a memory out from beneath it. “Well... um... the last thing I remember was…” he paused. “Was... huh.” His lips parted, but nothing came out. He blinked. “I don’t remember anything.”
