Like so much garbage, Charles was tossed into the pit-like dungeon in his sleeveless undershirt and boxers.

Confused, the man looked through the small peephole to see the guards turning away and laughing as they happily marched out of sight. He then turned back around to find himself surrounded by wolves, wolves of varying colors, from all black to all white and mixed shades. They all remained perfectly docile as they plodded around the equally calm man that saw fit to only stand perfectly still in place.

As Charles began to shuffle amongst the pack he suddenly heard something that resembled someone speaking. He gawked all around before an old, Middle-Eastern man came waddling out of the shadows within the dungeon. He was a raggedy looking fellow from head to toe. His grey, scraggly beard drew down past his chin.

"I am here because of the king, my dear friend." The old man said as he approached Charles.

Charles stood and watched as the old man stepped up to him. "Who is the king?" Mercer asked.

The old man looked dismayed as he opened his mouth and replied, "I would not praise his gods, so here must I die, with the beasts."

Charles stared oddly at the old man for a few moments before another figure emerged from the shadows. The figure had the brightest eyes that Charles had ever seen. They were so bright in fact that the man had to squint just to shield his vision from them. Much like the old man, the bright-eyed individual was wearing tattered clothing; a brown cloth-like material that covered only their body with nothing protecting their feet.

The closer the person came the more Charles could make out a face behind the eyes. The face was that of his son's. But rather than light up with gleeful enthusiasm, Charles just stood still and stared at his child with a most mystified glare.

"Son, what happened to you?" His voice cracked.

Placing his hand on his father's left shoulder, Isaac calmly said, "I am here because of the king, dad."

"These beasts were to devour us, but the Lord has spared our very lives." The old man humbly smiled. "Praise be to God in heaven."

Charles was neither impressed with the familiar old man or the wolves that circled him. He just wanted to keep his eyes on his son

Isaac withdrew his hand from his father's

here because of the king." Isaac uttered in

out of pace. "What on earth were you

bought that dog." A slick voice

five inches taller than Charles, and yet as jolting as it

old man drop to their knees and begin to pray out loud

front of the wolf and watched as his boy and the age-old prophet

"What were you doing in this world, son?" He

"Fear not for Isaac," the wolf behind him patted Charles on the shoulders, "his time in

approached his father and whispered

by the shoulders and

"Soon and very soon...we

open at that very second to the soft sound of a woman singing, 'Soon

as well as his chest and stomach which ached whenever he moved

around surprised with a red and white stripped apron around her waist. "Praise the good Lord,

His head hurt so badly that it felt

over to his bedside. "You've been out cold for

at the woman in an almost frightened manner. He began to scoot away from her in his bed

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