Chapter 47—

Now thirteen, Zheme stood in the dungeons, feet and hands chained and the only emotion known to him was fear. He knew what was going to happen, he knew from the very moment he stood before his mother, blocking her from his father. His mother had begged him not to, she had said that if he defended her again then he'd be the one receiving pain in her stead, but Zheme cared not, for now he knew his father had lied, she wasn't happy, instead she was in a deep state of agony. He could hear the pain in her screams, could see it in her eyes and furthermore, how could pain make someone happy? He wasn't stupid, at seven he probably was, but now he knew better, her tears weren't another means of smiling, they signified her fear, her pain and her sadness, they represented her suffering and a suffering she certainly didn't deserve. She was a benevolent woman, she looked out for him, cried for him, showed him love, she was indeed his mother and what kind of son would he be if he sat and watched her