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Tryls opened his eyes to darkness. For a moment, he thought that he was back in the Sebrimor’s dungeon, but the purple shadows quickly swam into lavender shapes as his eyes adjusted, and he recognised the figures around him.

“Father,” he whispered. A heavy sigh was his only reply.

His wrists chafed from the chains that held him. He looked ahead into the darkness.

“I have not failed,” he said quietly but confidently.

Silence.

“I will not fail,” he said.

His father spoke, a faint voice that spoke volumes about the torture he had been through.

“I am sorry.”

Tryls closed his eyes again. The sun must have risen by now. No doubt Herrin and Mirra were already on their way.

© Kari Fay

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