Tyler felt like he had been stuck in Dema for as long as he could remember. He had tried to escape so many times… but every time, the bishops would bring him back.

He had eventually become part of the very system he had fought against, generating music for Dema, being forced to wear bright, pastel colours. It hadn’t ever stopped his attempts to communicate with the banditos, or his attempts to leave Dema once and for all.

But, he was seeing the torchbearer less and less. It hadn’t made him lose hope, but had made him question what he was doing, was there an end? Was there a way out?

He ran a hand through his brown hair, sighing quietly as he looked around. The concrete walls of Dema were miserable. The neon gravestones just beyond, a reminder of what was lost.