This is not your life.
But it shrouds and smothers you, encasing you like an inescapable coffin. Like a smooth coffin carved from ivory, measured to your exact height, the width of your ribs, the length of each of your fingers.
You watched them craft that ivory coffin. Meticulous and careful, pieced together to fit around you like a second skin. A shining beacon of wealth in this time of hunger, savage tusks turned into a display worthy of the king in whose name they carved.
Why were you chosen? You do not rememember. You were the victim of a random lot. You were chosen as a despised criminal. You were a willing sacrifice, laying yourself bare for your king.









