There is a question every prisoner eventually asks, and it is never "how do I escape." It is "does anyone know I am here?"
Existence is vast enough that a being can be stolen from one heartland and buried in another, and the theft will echo nowhere. Chains around the feet are only the second binding. The first is silence, and silence is the older technology. But information wants to move the way water wants to fall. Seal a thousand mouths, and the message finds a hand. Seal the hands, and it finds a friend.
The question, in the end, answers itself. Someone knows. Someone is coming. The only variable is what they have become since you were taken.
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There were so many things in existence that it was hard to keep track of all the possibilities out there.
