DRIP.
A drop of water landed between Sylvan's eyebrows. The bone-chilling cold jolted him from his stupor.
He snapped his eyes open, only to find himself tightly bound with coarse hemp ropes to a hardwood bed, inside a dry cave.
The cave was dimly lit, with only two torches stuck to the rock wall providing any light.
To his surprise, the cave wasn't cold. Instead, waves of warmth emanated from some unseen source, keeping his thin indoor clothes at a comfortable temperature, as if he were still in his own bedroom.
The only downside was that his head was fixed in place by a special leather strap, rendering it completely immobile.
Directly above his line of sight hung a ceramic water jug. A small hole had been made in its base, from which water droplets fell at a slow, steady rhythm.
DRIP. DRIP. DRIP. Each one landed squarely between his eyebrows.
Sylvan was baffled. 'What is the meaning of this?'
"Someone! Let me go!"
