"You've got to be joking," Zephyr muttered, his voice a mix of disbelief and defiance. "Executed for stealing bread? Even in the darkest of time, the law wasn't this cruel."
The woman sighed, her tone heavy with weariness and a flicker of fear. "Goham's laws used to be strict, but nothing like this. It all changed last year when Count Geofri married that second wife of his, Orianna." She hesitated, as if choosing her words carefully. "Every crime, no matter how small ... ends in a death sentence.
"This is brutal" Zephyr gulped.
The woman nodded then spoke in a deep voice.
"And the most horrible things are the dead bodies… they vanish from the gallows by the mornings. No one ever sees them again"
A shiver ran down Zephyr's spine. "Gone? What do you mean, gone?"
"There's a rumor among Goham's villagers," she whispered, her voice barely louder than the drip of water in the dark. "Orianna's not just a regular woman. They say she's a foul witch; she murdered the Count's first wife, then twisted his mind. You know what, he married her barely a month after the funeral. And the dead? They're not left to rot. She takes them… for something. Something dark. Some say it's ritual magic."
Zephyr's stomach twisted as her words sank in.
He was trapped in a nightmare — cold stone walls, rusted iron bars, air thick with mold and rot. A place he didn't know, ruled by a tyrant and a witch who stole corpses.
Gallows? he thought. What kind of place still has gallows?
His mind reeled. Instinctively, he glanced down at his hands—small, rough, scarred. These aren't mine. His heart slammed against his ribs. A dreadful realization settled upon him
This isn't my body.
And now he noticed, for the first time since childhood, the affliction that had tormented him, the constant headaches were completely gone.
Then, another strange thought struck him. He had spoken with this woman using a language he had never known before… yet he understood it perfectly.
Everything was falling into place. There was only one explanation. Somehow, after blacking out from too much booze, his soul had transmigrated into someone else's body. And worse yet, in an entirely different world.
Why me? Can I get back? Zephyr wondered desperately.
But those were questions for later. Right now, he had bigger problems. If the woman was right, he was hours from death. His chest tightened. His thoughts scattered. Was this really happening? Was he going to die in a world he didn't even belong to?
No. Not yet. Not like this. He forced a breath, steady and slow. Panic wouldn't help him now. He needed information. A plan. A way out.
He turned to her, keeping his voice steady and trying to sound humorous despite the chaos swirling in his head."Thanks for filling me in on my lovely predicament."
He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
"My mind's a complete blank... can't remember a damn thing. Mind telling me who you are. And what you know about me?"
Her voice had been soft, almost soothing, but her face didn't match. It was a map of hard years: deep creases, hollowed cheeks, eyes dulled by time and trouble. Her hair hung in oily ropes, and her clothes looked like they hadn't seen a proper wash in weeks—maybe months.
"Call me Dianna," she said, her expression flat. "Honestly, I don't know much about you. We've been stuck in here together two days. You didn't talk much. All I know is that you were accused of stealing a piece of bread, and your name is Jack."
She hesitated, then added, "Yesterday, the executioner came. He enjoys tormenting prisoners before their deaths."
"A real brute. If you endure it without fighting back, he usually loses interest.
But you? You resisted. That got him excited. He slammed your head against the wall so hard, I thought you were dead.
Guess you're tougher than you look."
No, Zephyr thought. The real Jack was dead. I just took over his body
So, the pain I felt earlier… it wasn't a hallucination. But what healed me? I feel perfectly fine now. Did that have something to do with my transmigration?
He forced a dry grin. "Ah Well, nice to meet you, Lady Dianna. Thanks for filling me in. May I ask why you're imprisoned?"
She gave a tired laugh. "Just a foolish mistake. You know how it is here, people are thrown in this prison for any reason, guilty or not. Not that it matters. None of us stay long."
Her chuckle turned sharp. "Notice how quiet it is? That's because it's just you and me now. The rest… well, they've already had their turn at the gallows."
Zephyr peered through the bars into the dark, twisting corridor. "Any chance you've figured out a way out of this place?"
Dianna's laugh rang out, bright and brittle. "Escape? From Goham? That's a good one."
He frowned. "You're awfully calm for someone about to hang."
She tilted her head, studying him. "And you're not?"
"Maybe it's the memory loss," he said, shrugging. "Feels more like I've fallen into someone else's nightmare than my own."
Dianna watched him for a long moment, then gave a small nod. "You've changed. Two days ago, you barely spoke. Now you're cracking jokes and talking about escape."
She leaned back against the wall. "But no, I don't have a way out. This world is cruel. I never expected to die of old age, so I've simply accepted my fate. I just refuse to die in fear and misery."
A silence stretched between them, heavy and unspoken.
Finally, Zephyr said, his voice low and steady, "Can I ask one thing, then? Before the axe or rope or whatever horror they've got lined up—tell me about this place. I don't want to die blind."
Dianna smiled, though there was no joy in it. "Fair enough. It's nice to have someone to talk to, at the end. Just don't expect a grand tale—I've only ever known this village."
"Perfect. Exactly what I need" he said. "Maybe it will help me remember something."
Dianna took a breath and started. "This land used to be ours—the Arathi. We got along fine with the Eternal Empire until their new emperor, took over. Ruthless, ambitious... he raised a legion unlike any before it and swept through every border in sight and quickly expanded the empire's territory in all direction."
She paused, her eyes distant. "We fought, of course. We had to. But it was hopeless. After the fall, they handed our lands to Count Geofri, a loyal lapdog. He imposed harsh laws, kept us working like oxen—sixteen hours a day, sometimes more. They treated us like we weren't even human"
Her voice dropped. "But that was bearable. What came next wasn't."
"When Orianna arrived, everything changed," Dianna said quietly. "People started vanishing. Executions became routine. It didn't matter what you were accused of—petty theft, wrong words, wrong look—you ended up at the gallows. Now there's barely a few hundred of us left."
Zephyr let out a hard breath. "That's brutal."
Coming from a peaceful and independent nation, he had never witnessed war, let alone slavery and genocide. Just hearing of what had happened to the Arathians made his chest ache.
"Some tried to escape," Dianna went on. "Didn't get far. Count Geofri's guards are everywhere. They know every path, every crack in the wall. Even if you got out of the prison, they'd have you back in chains by sundown."
Zephyr clenched his jaw. "No one has ever escaped?"
Dianna hesitated. "I'm not sure. They've sealed off every escape route, the only way out is through the sea to the west, by jumping off the cliff. Some tried. No one knows if they survived."
Zephyr grimaced. "Jumping off a cliff? Sounds like a good way to commit suicide."
Dianna gave him a strange look. "It's the only way. You'll see soon enough, the gallows are built right on that cliff."
The words hung like a blade. Even if he had the courage to jump, Zephyr doubted Count Geofri would simply let him do so.
What a desperate situation. He searched for a solution, but the only way to survive seemed to be offering something useful to Count Geofri. The only thing Zephyr had that might be of value was his knowledge, the knowledge from another world. Maybe he could bargain.
Dianna seemed tired, and Zephyr was deep in thought, considering his next move. The cell fell into stillness, broken only by the soft drip of water in the distance.
Before Zephyr could form a proper plan, the sound of footsteps echoed through the dark corridor of the prison. Three figures emerged, shadows stretching long and warped. They wore dark, grim gear, but one stood out.
A hulking beast of a man, draped in soot-stained leather, an apron crusted with old blood. His hood hid most of his face, but his eyes gleamed cold and empty. His presence alone carried the weight of countless deaths, an unspoken promise of finality
A gem-like object glowed faintly on his right wrist, shimmering like a lone star in the darkness. As Zephyr looked upon it, a strange sensation washed over him, as if his very soul was twisting and unraveling.
Dianna's whisper as a sound of ghost. "The Executioner."