This story is awesome.
In a cell, time loses all meaning. The days blur into one another, whole weeks, even years, pass by unnoticed, and with each passing moment my name descends deeper into the depths of mythology. Once a name powerful enough to silence a city, I have become less than a bare whisper, a whistle in the wind. Time has gradually worn away my mark on this world. They say so much time alone is not good for the mind, it can make you forget who you are, madden you. Do you remember me? It matters not, I am eternal, and time shall not erase my name.
Footsteps. I twisted my neck as far as the chains would allow me. They sounded lighter than usual. Of course, no one had visited in ages; they had given up feeding me after repeated attempts. I may be in chains, but I refused to allow…
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