Impossible

Chapter Twelve: Strength

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Chapter Twelve: Strength

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        I grunted as I hit the ground of the cell. Somehow, Bobby had managed to transport me right into it without deactivating the spells. The ball of light that moved freely above my cell was weaker than when I first got here.

        "Did you get any food while you were out there?" Cynthia asked. Her voice seemed to be growing weaker. "I'm famished; I haven't eaten for a day, and that's without adding the time that we must've been unconscious for."

        "Sorry, but no. If I'd known it'd been so long since you've eaten I would've asked about it, but we had other things to talk about," I answered. I sat down on the grass again, letting out a long sigh. "I'm assuming, though, they'll bring us food eventually. I mean, he wants me dead, but not necessarily you."

        "How the hell are you not craving food right now? Aren't you hungry? It's all I can think about!" Cynthia exclaimed, letting out a long sigh mirroring mine.

        "No, not really but I ate dinner and breakfast," I said, although the more we talked about food the more hungry I felt.

        "We need to get outta here," Cynthia said. Even though there was distance between us, I could hear the anger that was filling her voice.

        "All right, what do you think we should do?" I questioned. "You've already tried everything that might work, so I'm all out of ideas."

        "Let's think," Cynthia responded. "What if the spells aren't the main issue?"

        "Care to explain?" I called back, attempting to figure out what else could be keeping us here.

        "Maybe there's a chance that they're using these spells as a diversion from the real thing that's keeping us in here," she explained. Suddenly, the light above me sputtered out, plunging the whole area where we were trapped plunged into darkness.

        "All right, but what do you think could really be keeping us here?" I asked, raking my brain for anything that could be useful. The moment the words left my mouth, I flourished my hand in the air, sending a new ball of flight buzzing into the air, lighting my cell once again.

        "Did you just do that?" Cynthia called out, her voice conveying she was completely bewildered.

        "Yeah, it's a pretty basic spell. I learned it from a spell book I stole from a classroom as a kid. But can we get back to this whole theory on the spells not holding us back?"

        "Of course, but when we get outta here, you're definitely teaching me that," Cynthia said, a laugh piercing the air. "Anyway, I'm thinking maybe they lay the spells here as a way to get us to stop worrying about the things that actually matter. What if the spells are actually weak, but they know something else will prevent us from just breaking the cell bars."

        "That sounds like a good idea," I responded after a moment, unable to prevent my surprise at how complex her thoughts were from my voice. "But do you have any idea about what is actually preventing us? Because without a good guess, the chances of us figuring it out are slim."

        "Well, I can't say I'm completely sure, but I was thinking that it could be our brains. The whole idea that if we don't get out right away after a feeble attempt, then we'd stop trying or think we're not strong enough to do it. That's how I was feeling after I tried everything, but just now I've realized maybe that's how they want me to feel. If we could get over that hurtle that our brain provides, and truly believe we were strong enough to get out, then maybe that's what will happen. They seem to be clever here, so I figured it was something simple yet hard, and this makes sense."