He lay on the cold floor, his head resting on a thin pillow.
He had never been given more than necessary—only the bare minimum required to survive.
Why?
He had never asked.
Perhaps because nobody would have answered him, or perhaps because, from the moment he became aware of his surroundings, he had already learned that asking questions often led nowhere.
Sometimes, he would watch the other children living on the opposite side of the Temple.
They played together.
They laughed.
They ran through the gardens without fear.
Their clothes were neat, embroidered with patterns and symbols he didn't understand. They ate warm meals, attended lessons, and spoke freely with the priests assigned to them.
Meanwhile, he was permitted to wear nothing more than a plain piece of cloth.
Simple.
Uncomfortable.
Strange.
At times, the rough fabric irritated his skin, but complaining would accomplish nothing.
The strangest part was how differently people treated him.
