Shadow awoke, his body covered in a thin sheet of sweat. He blinked twice, trying to remember. He shook his head as he so often did when he awoke in times like these. He slowly sat up, bracing himself with a hand behind him so he could stay reclined. He felt hot. And thirsty.

And something was very, very wrong.

Shadow's icy blue eyes swept his surroundings. He was alone, that much he could tell, and he wasn't restrained, so he knew that he hadn't been captured. He cursed under his breath as he stood up to wipe the dust off his body. He froze. There was no dust to be wiped off.

His mind was reeling. This meant one of a few things, and he didn't like any of them. Only the very rich were able to afford marble floors. He cautiously bent down and inspected the floor. He took off the glove on his right hand and probed the floor. It wasn't marble. He probed it some more, but was unable to determine what kind of material the ground was made from. It was impossibly smooth, almost metallic. He pulled out a knife and tapped it against the ground. Nothing. He frowned and did it again, a bit harder this time. Still nothing.

He stood and slammed the knife home. He looked at his surroundings again, still unsure of what was going on. He had been in most of the mansions around the country, but none were this extravagant. Or small. The room couldn't have been more than 20 feet in either direction. He walked to one of the walls and felt along it until he came to what he figured was a doorway. He pressed up against it, but it wouldn't budge. Frowning again, he felt for a handle and found none. He cursed again. He began to feel around the door for something, anything to get it open. Finally he found a panel that lit up as he touched it, and the blinding light of the sun hit him. He covered his eyes and staggered out into the light...