As I sit cross-legged on the cold, hard floor of my cell, the weight of the shackles around my wrists and ankles is a constant reminder of my reality. I focus on my breathing, trying to calm my racing thoughts. The silence is almost oppressive, broken only by the distant echoes of footsteps in the corridor. I trace the runes on my tattered uniform with a sigh, wishing for the freedom to explore once more. But for now, I hoping for a glimmer of change.