Celaena Sardothien woke up in the hell. Whistle of whips, cries of pain and endless suffering turned out not to be only a figments of her imagination, a sounds which the dream gave to her. They were the truth. Crying, screaming, eternal begging for mercy kept her company now almost continuously. Even when she fell asleep, all this notes like harsh music, broke through the stone walls of Endovier salt mine, probing deep into her consciousness, not letting fall asleep, cutting and destroying.

The empty stomach then again demanded. Her aching body didn't mean to hear words which churning inside fallen assassin's mind. She didn't want to pick herself up from the pallet full of worms, stinking of feces. She didn't try to quench her thirst or move only the smallest toe of the foot, chained into heavy cuffs. All she wanted was lying, pretending that she was dead and nothing will be able to harm her again.

Celaena didn't think about her pain. She didn't want to remember the gold, long hair which was cut from her. She didn't try to remind the faces of jailers who were beating her. She desired to get rid the taste of blood, which filled her mouth after only few minutes of tortures. Celaena held her hands pressed to herself, in order to none of them managed to walk to stinging back to check how very much the whips of king's minions had crippled her.

She focused her minds around Sam. She though about it how many exactly he happened to suffer, about all these screams escaping from his mouth and she knew that there was no space for begging for mercy in theme. She wanted to remember Sam as a man who she gave her heart, as a man she loved so much that recalling own suffering came much easier to her much than think about agonies which Farran gave to him. Tears flowed down across the girl's hollow cheeks when she realized that the last image of her beloved which forever will get stuck in her memory will be Sam's blue body, torn apart by the most sophisticated tortures which could come to the Farran's head.

She muffled the sobbing weakly, feeling pain in her throat dried off. She got up slowly on her pallet and closed her eyes. After first night she spent in the dark cell intended for slaves toiling in Endovier, set deeply below the ground Celaena was afraid of living in this place for the rest of her miserable days. She was afraid of scream. She was afraid of pain. She was afraid of death which was incessantly pacing salt mine's corridors, lurking in the hiding place for her next preys. One time Sam told her about cure for fear, which then tried to tear oneself through depths of her memory. But Celaena wasn't able to remember which message his words should've presented.

She knelt on the pallet and after a while she was standing straighten up with her hands weighted by heavy cuffs. How easier would it be to die, she thought losing her hope that whatever would make her wanted to live anymore. In that place it was absolutely impossible. Everything was impossible without Sam.

Celaena heard jailers who were pacing on the corridors, sent to drag next slaved people to the labour. She managed to stop the grimace of fear when the door led to her cell opened up with crash. Two short sentences slipped out of her mouth when she looked in the men's eyes. The spell, which Sam told to her one time.

"My name is Celaena Sardothien." she whispered, recalling his words to herself. "And I will not be afraid."