"You've got to be joking," Zephyr muttered, his voice a mix of disbelief and defiance. "Executed for stealing bread? Even in the darkest of time, the law wasn't this cruel."
The woman sighed, her tone heavy with weariness and a flicker of fear. "Goham's laws used to be strict, but nothing like this. It all changed last year when Count Geofri married that second wife of his, Orianna." She hesitated, as if choosing her words carefully. "Every crime, no matter how small ... ends in a death sentence. And the most horrible things is the dead bodies… they vanish from the gallows by the mornings. No one sees them again"
A shiver ran down Zephyr's spine. "Gone? What do you mean, gone?"
"Rumors," she whispered, her voice so low it barely rose above the drip of water in the dark. "Orianna's not just some lady. They say she's a foul witch, twisting the Count's head. And the dead? They are not left to rot. She takes them ... for something awful such as dark ritual."
Zephyr's stomach twisted as her words sank in. He was locked in a nightmare: cold stone walls, iron bars, air thick with mold and rot. A world he didn't know, ruled by a brutal empire and a witch who stole corpses. Gallows? he thought. What kind of place still has gallows?
His mind reeled. Instinctively, he glanced down at his hands—small, rough, scarred. These aren't mine. His heart slammed against his ribs. A dreadful realization settled upon him
This isn't my body.
Yet, for the first time since childhood, the affliction that had tormented him, the constant headaches was completely gone.
Then, another strange thought struck him. He had spoken with this woman using a language he had never known before… yet he understood it perfectly.
Everything was falling into place. There was only one explanation. Somehow, after blacking out from too much booze, his soul had transmigrated into someone else's skin. And worse yet, another world.
Why me? Can I get back?
No, those were questions for another time. If she was right, he was about to die. Survival first.
He turned to her, keeping his voice steady despite the chaos in his head. "Thanks for the rundown. My mind's a blank ... can't remember a damn thing. Who are you? And what do you know about me?"
She stepped out of the shadows, and Zephyr blinked. Her voice had been soft, warm, and pleasant, but her face was a roadmap of hard years—deep lines, sunken eyes, hair a greasy mess.
Her clothing was little better than the rags he wore, a tattered woolen dress, once dyed an earthy hue, now faded to a murky brown, mottled with stains of unknown origin.
"Call me Dianna," she said, her expression flat. "Honestly, I don't know much about you. We've been stuck in here together two days. You didn't talk much. All I know is that you were accused of stealing a piece of bread, and your name is Jack."
She hesitated, then added, "Yesterday, the executioner came. He enjoys tormenting prisoners before their deaths. You tried to resist, and he smashed your head against the wall. I thought you were dead after that blow. Guess you're tougher than you look."
No, Zephyr thought. The real Jack was dead. I just took over his body
So the pain I felt earlier… it wasn't a hallucination. But what healed me? I feel perfectly fine now. Did that have something to do with my transmigration?
He forced a dry grin. "Ah Well, nice to meet you, Lady Dianna. Thanks for filling me in. May I ask why you're imprisoned?"
She gave a tired laugh. "Just a foolish mistake. You know how it is here, people are thrown in this prison for any reason, guilty or not. Not that it matters. None of us stay long." Her chuckle turned sharp. "Ever wondered why it's so quiet? It's because all the others were executed. Only you and I remain."
Zephyr peered through the bars into the dark, twisting corridor. "Got any tricks to bust out of this dump?"
Dianna's laugh rang out, bright and brittle. "You think I can escape?"
He frowned. "You're awfully calm for someone about to hang."
She tilted her head, studying him. "And you're not?"
"Maybe it's the memory loss," he said with a shrug. "Feels like a bad dream I'll wake up from."
Dianna studied him, then nodded. "That must be it. You've changed a lot since two days ago. But no, I don't have a way out. This world is cruel. I never expected to die of old age, so I've simply accepted my fate. I just refuse to die in fear and misery."
A silence stretched between them before Zephyr finally spoke, his voice laced with resolve. "Can you do me a favor?" Before I die, tell me about this place. I don't want to go out blind."
Dianna smiled, though there was no joy in it. "Sure. It's nice to talk before the end. I've only ever known this village, though—nothing fancy."
"Perfect. Exactly what I need" he said. "Maybe it will help me remember something."
Dianna took a breath and started. "This land used to be ours—the Arathi. We got along fine with the Eternal Empire until their new king, Draven, took over. He built a fearsome legion and quickly expanded the empire's territory in all direction."
She paused for a moment, then continued. "We fought, but it was pointless against that army. After our defeat, Count Geofri was given control of this land and imposed strict laws on us. Life was hard. The Eternals treated us like slaves, driving us to work for sixteen hours each day. But that was nothing compared to what came next." Her voice darkened. "When Orianna arrived, we became nothing more than sheep waiting for slaughter. Now, only a few hundred of us remain."
Zephyr let out a hard breath. "That's brutal."
Coming from a peaceful and independent nation, he had never witnessed war, let alone slavery and genocide. Just hearing of what had happened to the Arathians made his chest ache.
"Some tried running," Dianna went on, "But they were caught and thrown in this prison the very next day. Count Geofri's men block every escape route. So even if you managed to break out of here, they would capture you again before you got far."
Zephyr clenched his jaw. "No one has ever escaped?"
Dianna hesitated. "I'm not sure. They've sealed off every escape route, the only way out is through the sea to the west, by jumping off the cliff. Some tried. No one knows if they survived."
Zephyr grimaced. "Jumping off a cliff? Sounds like a good way to commit suicide."
Dianna gave him a strange look. "It's the only way. You'll see soon enough, the gallows are on that cliff."
The words hung like a blade. Even if he had the courage to jump, Zephyr doubted Count Geofri would simply let him do so.
What a desperate situation. He searched for a solution, but the only way to survive seemed to be offering something useful to Count Geofri. The only thing Zephyr had that might be of value was his knowledge, the knowledge from another world. Maybe he could bargain.
Dianna seemed tired, and Zephyr was deep in thought, considering his next move. The cell fell into stillness, broken only by the soft drip of water in the distance.
Before Zephyr could form a proper plan, the sound of footsteps echoed through the dark corridor of the prison. Three figures emerged, shadows stretching long and warped. They wore dark, grim gear, but one stood out.
A hulking beast of a man, draped in soot-stained leather, an apron crusted with old blood. His hood hid most of his face, but his eyes gleamed cold and empty. His presence alone carried the weight of countless deaths, an unspoken promise of finality
A gem-like object glowed faintly on his right wrist, shimmering like a lone star in the darkness. As Zephyr looked upon it, a strange sensation washed over him, as if his very soul was twisting and unraveling.
Dianna's whisper as a sound of ghost. "The Executioner."