Aaravos sat by the fire, staring at the same bleak walls he’d been trapped in for a millennium. Not that he knew how long it’d been, time had no meaning, there was no sun or moon in his harsh imprisonment.

He only knew what he could gather from the occasional slip up from one of the beings around the mirror that connected him to the outside world.

“How bothersome…” He murmured as his eyes traced the ceiling. Long ago he’d cast a spell that made the ceiling look like the night sky.