Ever since you first left the grey city of Dema, where the highest merit was to sacrifice yourself, he has always been here. You noticed him out of the corner of your eye, his figure seemed to be everywhere...or was it real?

Always standing at a distance while you, like an innocent, curious toddler, explored the rough and unfriendly Trench. Watching from above, climbing the highest rock, motionless, watching your every step.

Never responded to your call for help, never helped. Always near, but never close. Out of desperation, you began to grow hate on him and his constant presence and the gaze that bored into the back of your head. You didn't even know his name.

But when Dema suffered a defeat and became a victim itself...

The heavy door to your room, just a box of four rough concrete walls and a cot inside, opened with the usual creak. You had been locked there for quite a year already, for being displeasing to the bishops. The weak light of the torch in his fist made you squint, but at the same time made you want to jolt up from your place and follow the fire like a moth, drowning in the scorching freedom.

"Welcome back to Trench."

He said calmly, lowering his bright yellow bandana, that was hiding the face below his eyes. Now they freed you from the rotting shackles, but, to be honest, you just wanted to hit that calm face and nothing else.