Chapter Fifty Three

The room smelt damp, and Fred felt like his mouth had turned sandpaper, so dry from thirst, it felt like he hadn't had a drink in days.

He tried to speak, but the words didn't come.

Pathetic.

He couldn't move, his arms shackled to something. It felt ice cold on his wrist, and he could feel the cold seeping into his skin like a virus, shutting down his body system.

"That is to keep you from having any ideas," Alistair was framed in the bars of the cell, his pearly white teeth shining in the dim light of the cell.

"Don't bother to talk, you'd just progressively get weaker. I wouldn't mind that in the least. But, I wouldn't want you passing out on me." Fred could make out a figure close to Alistair, a figure dripping with blood.

"This is your pet, eh, boy? Doesn't look like much," Fred could vaguely make out the shape of Saphrana, and he tugged at his chains but they didn't budge in the slightest.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. Those are mana-restrictive chains. The more you fight,