Days seemed to blend into together. Time was nonexistent to them, though Iago had mentioned that it had been five years since they arrived in the spire; a number of rests ago.
She listened to the breeze blow into the empty spire she and her twin lived in like a howling ghost, her eyes glanced at the metal bars enchanted with strong magic as she sat on the pile of clothes she called a bed. Their cages was sparsely decorated, with nothing more to entertain oneself with other than a few worn books and broken toys.
They were use to the cells they lived in -- use to the shackles that chafed their neck, ankles and wrists, use to sleeping on the pile of cloths, use to the sack of slightly moldy food and water skins that was sent down to them by the men who were for some reason terrified of them but never really thought into why.
When they were just toddlers, people had tried to steal them away and they killed their mother in the process. So Father hid them down here to keep them