\--==Official Submission==-- FROM: First Sergeant Alexander Rahl RE: The Boy and The Dark Alexander huddled in the corner of his tiny cell wishing that the torturers would just let him die. But no, Kishara wanted her five champions back. He wasn't sure how long he had been down here; days, weeks, months, it was hard to judge time when living in complete darkness and isolation. This night was the first time he had ever actually seen his cell. They had given him the cheap torch as a gift for his cooperation. Alexander knew that today marked the beginning of the end for him. These daily sessions were taking their toll, and today he broke a little bit and told the torturer everything he wanted to know about he Battle of Fendark. The pain was just too much for too long, and he knew that it would just be a matter of time before the torturer managed to make him give up a ring or two. And Alexander did so love the light. He warmed his hands near the torch, used it to see around his tiny little world; a place that up to today he had only felt by groping about in the darkness. The light made him happy, and he knew that they would keep giving him things as long as he cooperated. “Reason in desperation is not reason at all.” Kironius Mengst said that. But Alexander didn't care. He had destroyed the five champions once, why not give them the rings, escape, and do it again? He closed his eyes tightly, trying to forget he ever entertained the thought. While exploring his home, Alexander noticed some etchings on the wall. He took his torch and cleaned some of the dirt and grime away from the old writings. What he found bore its way into his very soul. I WILL NOT SUCCUMB! -SILENT Alexander stared at the words for what must have been hours, letting their meanings and origins seep into his bones. He took some water from the chamberpot and washed what remained of the years of filth and grime away from the words until they were clear against the stone and he stared some more. He traced each word with his fingertips, trying to confirm that it was real and not some sort of trick. Alexander took a deep breath and steeled himself against his own despair. He tossed his “gift” of light into the chamberpot, plunging the room back into darkness. Once again under the stifling veil of absolute night, he pressed his cheek against the words on the wall, trying to draw strength from the admonition that his dearest friend had scrawled in defiance years before while suffering these same tortures. “I will not succumb!” he whispered harshly to himself. He refused to let the guards hear him cry. In another world far away, Silent slept fitfully, dreaming of the horrors of Tablenhelm's prisons.