2. Salahuddin Chamcha was in jail.
There was no denying the fact. Now that his wand had been confiscated, he had been shown a cell
equipped with a bunk, a toilet and chair, he had been given his prisoner uniform and his hair had
been cut short, there was no questioning it, no wondering if this all was a dream or an odd
misunderstanding after all. He really was behind bars and would be for a long time.
Of course, he had known this could happen. He may have thought it would be unlikely, but he had
known it was possible. And afterwards, thinking of it, perhaps it was not all that unlikely either.
He had been a fool. A fool to trust anyone, the count especially, who had come to him after such a
long time and offered his help, essentially for free... A fool to believe that as soon as the Legacy
heiress was to leave her heavily protected home, she would become vulnerable. He realized that
now, alone in his cell with nothing but all the time in the world to think. An utter fool.

3. Salahuddin didn't really know what to think. One moment he had been so close to his goal, or so he
had thought, and the next he had been blasted over with a spell, and then, arrested, by his own
daughter none the less, while his son watched on. The change was so sudden that all he could feel at
the moment was a sense of numbness.
So Salahuddin spent his days in a haze, doing mostly nothing. He was only obligated to leave his cell
for mealtimes, so that was what he did. Mostly he would just lay on his bed, sometimes sit on the sole
chair in the room, or even the floor when he couldn't be bothered.
Eventually some of the guards took pity on him, and gently nudged him, mentioned there were things
he could do. Such as, borrow a book from the library or work out in the gym. Salahuddin didn't seem
very interested in either, but since then, he could occasionally be seen reading – or possibly just
gazing at a book and turning the pages every now and then.

4. In the evenings the guards sometimes saw him at the gym throwing solitary hoops as they made their
rounds. It was always close to the time when the prisoners would be locked into their cells for the
night, and occasionally they had to tell him it was time to leave the gym. The guards supposed the
late hours were Salahuddin's way of avoiding other prisoners, as at that time most were already in
their cells, getting ready for the night. Apparently he didn't care for company.

5. Reading was how guard Ramin Centowski found him one evening.
Ramin was one of those guards in Alphabetia jail who had started to pity Salahuddin. Having worked
as a guard for years, it wasn't because of any naiveté or illusions on Ramin's part. Having heard all
the stories, having seen some of them when working as a police officer, he knew full well what these
guys were capable of, especially the ones in this part of the prison. No, it wasn't that. But deep down,
these guys were sims too, and more often than not, they were in dire need of compassion. Maybe
more so than others, Ramin thought.
”Chamcha?” he called.

6. Salahuddin put his book away, and started to get up from his bunk. He wondered what it could have
been that the guard needed him for. Usually, he wasn't needed for much anything. Could it be that his
lawyer had called already?
Ramin stood waiting, idly wondering how Salahuddin would take the news. Probably not very well,
they never did.

7. ”Yes, guard Centowski?”
”Your lawyer called. He was going to tell you himself, but something urgent came up and he had to be
elsewhere, so he asked me to deliver a message.”
”Yes?”
”You lost the case.”
Salahuddin nodded. He had fully expected to, but now he suddenly didn't know what to expect
anymore.
”The jury found you guilty in all charges, and they found the evidence highly conclusive and the
deeds extremely serious. He”, continued Ramin, referring to Salahuddin's lawyer, ”said that there was
nothing more that could be done. He will naturally file a complaint, but he seemed doubtful that it
would do any good.”
Salahuddin nodded again. ”What was the verdict?”

8. ”Three life sentences. Served one after another.”
Salahuddin's mouth was dry. He didn't know what else to say, so he just nodded and said briefly:
”Thank you, guard Centowski.”
”I'm sorry, Chamcha”, Ramin said as Salahuddin turned back to face the inside of his cell. Ramin
thought he could see a curt nod before the pale man walked back to his bunk, laid down and closed
his eyes.

9. Three life sentences, Salahuddin thought as he later laid alone on his bunk. He didn't know what to
think. If all his actions were understood as committed with malicious intent, then maybe it was fair. He
didn't know. He hadn't expected any less, truth to be told. Perhaps he should even consider himself
lucky in a sense. The Bookacies were an influential family by now, and had they really wanted to
affect the outcome of the trial, it could easily have been much worse, he supposed. They would have
had their way if they had wanted to, he was sure. Apparently they hadn't, and he didn't know why.
If Salahuddin had been an ordinary man, no matter how the length of the sentence was calculated,
he would have died in jail. But being a vampire, he would actually serve a sentence of three
'lifetimes'. He didn't know the law well enough to know how long exactly that would make. But he
knew for sure one thing: it would be long enough to make sure that he would never see his son or
daughter again.
That was probably the worst part.

10. Salahuddin remembered seeing Aadam at the wedding, slightly before being taken away. It had been
a shock, he couldn't pretend otherwise. His son had grown old.
His own son, while he himself was still in his prime. He had known that Aadam had left with every
intention of staying away, of living his life without his father, but Salahuddin had never expected
Aadam to grow old, to opt to die of old age some day. Even if he didn't want to be in contact with his
father anymore, surely Aadam had a means to arrange himself enough elixir to stay young forever?
Salahuddin didn't understand.

11. And Marsha. He had only seen Marsha briefly as she took him into custody. But she, just like Aadam,
was unmistakbly old. Both his children had chosen to grow old, and apparently, eventually die.
Judging by the way Sean Cameron had given Marsha the possibility to arrest him, and the way she
had gladly accepted it, it seemed that at least Marsha took personal delight in putting his father
behind bars. And remembering the unblinking gaze Aadam had given him, he must have been in full
agreement with her.
Not that he could blame them, Salahuddin supposed. Not after everything that had happened. After
all, he had very nearly hurt Marsha, and done that by threatening Aadam. He understood that this
alone was enough cause for his children to side with his capturers. He only wished he could explain.
Explain how he felt, how it pained him to be separated from Author, Author whom he had loved longer
than he could remember. How the Legacy family refused to understand, how they denied him the one
thing he wanted, as if it were to stop the challenge in its tracks if he were reunited with her. And only
because they were a Legacy family, they were allowed to get away with it. If only he could explain all
that.

12. On top of all this, prison life was starting to take its toll on Salahuddin. Not only was he alone and
hopeless, but simply being in Alphabetia jail was a difficult experience to him in itself. Granted, as a
dangerous criminal he was respected in a manner of speaking, and thus did not have to fear for his
safety like some others did. But it didn't change the fact that he felt completely and utterly alone.
After a while Salahuddin realized that this feeling may have something to do with the protections of
the jail. He was both a vampire and a warlock, and as it was illegal to cure him of either state against
his wish (and because he had worked hard for achieving both, and especially because not being
vampire would mean a certain death in jail for him, naturally it was his wish not to be cured), the law
enforcment had to come up with other means to prevent him from escaping magically.
From what Salahuddin understood from the guards discussing amongst themselves, there was a
powerful force field around the prison. This not only prevented magical prisoners from escaping by
keeping their powers to a minimal level without permanently removing or harming them, but also
made it unnecessary to purchase coffins for vampire residents, by enabling them to stay awake
during day hours without being harmed by sunlight. Apparently the force field also had a side effect
that caused some magical inmates experience strengthened negative feelings, such as melancholy,
and Salahuddin found himself among those prisoners.

13. Salahuddin had been sleeping days and working nights for so long that he found it the easiest to
mostly sleep during the day also in prison, even though that was no longer necessary. Of course, this
had the downside that mealtimes, which were obligatory, interfered with his sleep, and when he was
awake, nearly no one else was. But he did not mind. As a vampire, he had become used to falling
asleep again easily, nor did he in fact need very much sleep. And he was not in prison looking for
company.
Via his sleep, Salahuddin also found that perhaps melancholy was not the only side effect that the
force field could have on prisoners. He found himself seeing odd dreams. They were repeating, as
the ones preceding the Legacy boy's demise had been, but in a different way. The same dream
seemed to always continue from where it had last ended, whereas in the previous dreams it had been
the same dream over and over again, with slight variations. Also, while last time Salahuddin had
experienced a feeling of familiarity which he could not understand, there was nothing like that about
these dreams. He was certain that he had never been to the location, nor met any of the sims present
in these dreams.

14. One evening, shortly after Salahuddin's afternoon rest.
”Guard Centowski? Excuse me, sir?”

15. ”Yes, Chamcha? Is something the matter?” asked Ramin Centowski as he came to see why
Salahuddin had called.
”Oh, no, I am fine, thank you sir”, said Salahuddin. ”I was merely wondering... Since you have been a
guard here for so long... Have you ever heard of the magical protection measures possibly... causing
something such as... odd dreams?”
Ramin looked concerned. ”No, I don't think so. There have been some cases of melancholy or
depression, but nothing the prison doctor hasn't been able to fix. Why, have you been having
dreams?”
”Yes”, said Salahuddin, finding it most reasonable to admit it, having taken the matter up, ”Fairly odd
ones, as well. But if there are no other incidents, then I am sure it is nothing.”
Ramin didn't look convinced. ”Are you sure you're feeling okay? I could call the doctor if you need
one.”
”No, no, it is fine. I am feeling quite well, thank you”, Salahuddin assured.

16. ”Well, if you're sure...”
”I am, thank you”, said Salahuddin. After a short pause, he continued, as if the thought had just
occurred to him: ”Oh, but if I could ask you a small favor, I would be very grateful.”
”Yes, Chamcha, what is it?”
”I do not know whether the prison rules allow a prisoner to have... writing equipment? Only a pen or a
pencil and some paper would be quite sufficient.”
”Yes, I believe it is allowed, and there are pencils and notebooks that inmates can buy from the
cantine alongside with some other everyday utensils.”
”Oh, that is splendid. In that case, I need not bother you but can acquire them myself tomorrow.
Thank you, guard Centowski.”
”You're welcome, Chamcha. Good night”, said Ramin, nodded and continued his evening round,
leaving Salahuddin with his thoughts.