Remirg's eyes tended to shift from focus as he waited for Mr. Voice's answer to resound in his head. Peculiar though the Voice was, but more peculiar was the fact that it had stopped abruptly, leaving him in the middle of nowhere.
All he could see around himself were iron restraints binding him down to the ground. All four of his limbs were locked tight to the hard ground. No matter how much he tried, he could not free himself from the illusory binds.
The green flames around him seemed to burn brighter still, as though the illusion of a room of light which was imparted upon his conscience by the strange sorcery of the Warden looked rather dim compared to them.
Illusions...
He tried to remember the contents of the murmurings of Mr. Voice and seemed to pick up a few fragments of the mystical voice's ravings.
He pondered, his expressionless face in a certain daze, as the Warden watched at him peacefully as he seemed to reflect upon the question imparted upon him.
