You've been zoned out for hours now, lost in your own thoughts swirling around in your mind on repeat. Your childhood, your upbringing, your abusive father and your adoring mother, their murders. It then shifts to crime, torture to you and others, senseless slaughter, and your near death experience and betrayal at the hands of your own boss, who got you into this situation in the first place. The guards seem to be in the same state as you, half dozing off with one of them in the farthest corner from you lying against the handle of his spear, fast asleep. The mode of transport you're in is impenetrable, with the hardpacked wood lined with steel supports caging you inside. It's unbearably hot here too with the desert sun beaming its rays incessantly down onto the roof. "State your purpose and show your identity certificate." The voices catch you and the guards with you inside the wagon off guard.

'We're here already..?', you ask yourself.

The guard who asked for the driver's certificate looks at the cart with you and the guards inside it suspiciously, catching a glance at your deep magenta eyes from a beam of light streaming into the cart. you stare back at him.

he asks the question again to the driver, more rudely this time."Purpose and Certificate. If you don't have either of 'em, Scram." but he cuts himself off near the end of his sentence. You can hear a muffled 'Alright.' escape the man's lips after presumably seeing the driver's certificate and the wagon starts moving again, inching you closer and closer to your execution by the order of The Aharainian Council. the memories of your past disappear and the images of your lifeless body charred against a stake flash in your mind. it's disturbingly real looking, and it hurts to even think at all, with that abhorrent image stuck in your mind now. you've got to figure out a way to escape before you meet your death, and fast..