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12. Six years of madness

His thoughts had often been wandering during his years in imprisonment, but he forbid himself to think too much about the past or his own future. It was hard though in the endless nothingness.
His captors had never allowed a routine to settle in, had tried to make their actions unpredictable, to never allow him to relax.
It had worked at the start. He had always been full of tension, always on edge, never really asleep. But with time he had adapted. The dark had enhanced his hearing and he had started to train himself. To allow the smallest sounds to awaken him.
His mind had started to go numb, even the pain started to lessen.
Until one day they took him away again. Their experiment turned out to be especially gruesome this time around. His left arm had been so deeply carved in that they had hit bone and one of his eyes had turned blind. He hadn't been able to feel either of his legs for days and his lungs had rattled ominously every time he had breathed.
He didn't know what they fed him, but no matter how critical his wounds were he did not die and strayed to heal much too fast for his current state but this time he had truly believed it to be over. Had wished for it in his fever dreams.
One night, some of his wounds had started to fester, his body, which had felt as if it was on fire, suddenly started to cool down rapidly.
A thin layer of frost started to form on his skin and spread out towards the walls until it enveloped the whole room. He had lost consciousness to the sight of light blue crystals taking form in the air around him.
There was no sign of it when he opened his eyes again, but his wounds had healed considerably and something deep inside him felt different.
It was not hard for him to realize what had happened. His memories were quite good and he had gone through hundreds of books in the royal library so it was easy to find out which deity had given him its blessing.
He soon started to train his gift, hiding it from his wardens.

When he had been taken away, he hadn't known why they had chosen him of all people. He hadn't understood why they had tortured him, experimented on him. He didn't believe it had been for awakening this new blessing nor his status as a prince.
It wasn't until the start of his second year in captivity that things started to fall into place.
For one, he found out about the other captives or at least sensed that there were others but they seemed to be treated quite differently from him. No one stayed longer than a few weeks, not one of them leaving alive.
Then the injections started and it became obvious that they tried to awaken something within him. Strange markings frequently started to appear and disappear all over his body and his wardens seemed to be pleased with the development, but after no further progress the mood turned tense once more.
Soon they began to try out different methods to reach their goal, one more torturous than the other. It seemed to become necessary to keep him on the brink of death.
That was in its own way the hardest part for him to bear. On some days he couldn't even find the energy to circle his magic. He had never wished for anything else as much as for this hell to end.

One of his captors higher up the hierarchy fully lost his temper around five days before Ratcar held his funeral and if he hadn't been lucky it might have been his last.
The stakes hit him one by one, one puncturing his lungs, another one penetrating his stomach. Just before he was able to fully pierce his heart he was yanked back by the other wardens.
The potion shelves had been emptied onto the floor, shards of glass cutting his skin and unidentifiable liquids mixed with his blood, seeping into his wounds.
The darkness that had started to engulf his sight dissipated and the numbness that had taken a hold of his body was swept away by an unbelievable wave of fire shooting through his veins.
It was the fist time since he had come to this hell hole that he opened his mouth and screamed.
When he woke up again, he couldn't tell how much time had passed and only later found out that he had been unconscious for two days.
His wounds were still there, only a little bit better than they should have been. He probingly touched his chest to find out if this particular wound that should definitely have killed him had stayed as well. But the only thing he felt was smooth skin and the only prove that it hadn't always been this way was a strange pattern just above his heart.

Maybe that day was the reason Afrit came to him, maybe one of the others, or maybe it had just been a coincidence. Whatever it was, it stayed.
After that, things were quiet for a while before returning to the usual intervals of injections and undefinable madness. The only difference was Afrits presence.
At first it was rather unsettling seeing strange memories in his dreams and knowing the others every thought every minute of the day.
It was not like they saw all of each other's memories. It were only bits and pieces from time to time, but still bewildering enough.
But with time he was surprised at himself, how fast he got used to the presence in his head and how well they got along.
Afrits experience and advise became an indispensable asset and his growth in body and mind alike increased exponentially. He had to take a few steps back from the former otherwise the irregularities would have gotten too apparent.
Formerly unimaginable things became possible and Afrits amazement towards his new companion never ceased.
It was still hell though, still dark and endless, but the time seemed to flow just a little bit faster than before.