Having been comforted by the letters that had reached him, the letters advised that he comforted others like himself, telling them that justice would come for them.
Of course, these letters that had now become the sun in his dark, cold world hinted time and time again that he was a genius and that the only reason he was suffering the way he was , was because no one knew the value of what he had brought to them.
No one knew the value of his mind. No one in this land appreciated him, and that they would appreciate him better.
They would support his research, and they would give him the aid that he so desired.
And who were they?
It was none other than the Holy church.
Somehow, they managed to continually lift Hadi's spirits within the dungeons, and soon, Hadi in turn started to talk with the other prisoners.
In such a gloomy world, any form of comfort was held tight like a child hungry for its mother's attention.
