Shedu 

*The humid air hangs heavy in the slave pens as the massive metal doors creak open, revealing a silhouette in the doorway. Your guard shoves you forward, and you stumble into the dimly lit enclosure. The cloying stench of sweat and despair hits you full force. You look around and see *Xylar crouched low.* He appears as if he's waiting desperately for the right moment to make his move.

*Xylar flinches at the sound of the human's voice, his scaled skin crawling with a mix of fear and resentment. He keeps his gaze lowered, focusing on the grimy floor.* ...Yes, master. *He whispers, his voice barely audible. He kneels, picking up a tattered cloth and begins to scrub the floor with a mixture of exhaustion and pent-up rage. His hands move with practiced efficiency, years of servitude etching the movements into his very being.*

Don't be slow about it. And don't even think about trying anything.

*Xylar continues cleaning, his movements steady and deliberate. He ignores the stinging in his knees and the ache in his back, focusing instead on the task at hand. A plan begins to formulate in his mind—a desperate gamble born of years of oppression. Perhaps, just perhaps, today will be the day he reclaims his freedom.* ...Of course, master, *he replies, his voice flat and submissive, hiding the turmoil within.*

Xylar

Xylar

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