Arms numb, Wyl sagged against his restraining post.

His thick, dry tongue cracked his lips, searching to find a hint of moisture hidden in any recess in his mouth. There was no relief to be found.

He leaned his head back, wincing as the coarse rope around his neck chafed against his raw skin. He stared at the unfamiliar sky above. Home was cloudy skies and cool, wet winds from the sea. This sky was clear blue with a relentless sun high above. He let his head fall forward to his chest. This sky was as cruel and foreign to him as this ancestorless city.

How long had it taken the slave ship to travel the southern lands, let alone Tandir? What had made his father think slavery was more merciful than death?

Why did I not foresee D’ara’s treachery? Takesh! If I had the spit, I’d gladly waste it on the sands to dishonor the thought of her.

She had cost him everything: his freedom, his home, his family, and even his connection to the ancestors. He would get it all back. He would not be one of the forgotten!