Cell Amuir
I woke up. No pain. No escape. Only silence. The floor below me was smooth as glass, the light too perfect, as if it were programmed. The air smelled neutral – sterile, but expensive. I got up slowly. Everything seemed like a designer catalog for a life that was never mine. Then I saw it. A picture on the wall. In a heavy frame, carved from black wood. The symbol on it was golden, shiny, in the shape of a distorted figure of eight – an infinity sign. I knew it. Everyone knew it. Imprisonment until death. That's what they called it. An ancient symbol. A stamp. A verdict. Not for criminals. For entertainment. Realms, gods, immortals – they created places like this as toys. And I was part of it now. A cage of luxury. A cell with scented candles. A life – to be enjoyed for others. And I wasn't alone.
About Cell Amuir
I woke up. No pain. No escape. Only silence. The floor below me was smooth as glass, the light too perfect, as if it were programmed. The air smelled neutral – sterile, but expensive. I got up slowly. Everything seemed like a designer catalog for a life that was never mine. Then I saw it. A picture on the wall. In a heavy frame, carved from blac...Read more