The days were a copy from the nights, Javid no longer had the power to differentiate between them. His bread was now longer than he has ever grown it. He felt like a walking dead man, his presence was almost forgotten in here. Every now and then Heath would come to him to lessen his miserable life in the dungeons but, there was so much that he could do to him.
Now as the only thing that he had to do was wait, there was nothing more that they could do. There was no more news arriving in Persia, they waited for the raven announcing their arrival, and with every day the anticipation killed him twice. The feeling that their demise was getting nearer with every passing minute, and here he was locked up in this old cold cell because his father feared his interference with his master plan. The plan that is ought to be the end of all of them.
