Into The Rift

In Mercy We Trust 57

I expected worst to befell me. Truly I did. Things that were not meant to be spoken off, let alone ponder. These thoughts are but a whisper now at the end of the day.

With a flick, light cascades upon the room from above with a weak gloom-revealing a barren expanse that was perhaps once home to someone else, a sacred refuge in their sojourn on this realm. All this, now mine-for however long they deem it.

A table, and bed are readily present amidst the humble abode. They were both shoved to one end, most certainly the unfortunate result of the Lord Captains uncaring gaze over the blatant looting by his warriors. The furniture, however sparse ought to be set back to their rightful place, and all will be good.

This is more than I would deserve, yet this is no mirage or attempt at deceit. This room, is my domain.

"This would do nicely." I turn around, and offer my captor a weak smile. His hidden gaze is imposing, but little could be done about it. I expect neither a glint of a smile or a welcome tone from him.

Jerome still holds me in contempt, that I can feel, if not see it. No words needed to be spoken to realize that truth.

"Tomorrow morning, be up early. We're not finished," he coldly states, and departs. The curtain flutters as he retreats, and I am left to my own for the night, the last to be shown to a room.

After the steps faded, I finally relinquish my guard and collapse. The artificial glint above presents a meagre shade to the room as I sat in place, knees curled to the chest. This is mine, yet it feels utterly foreign. This will never be home.

I stifle the lights and prepare the bed for slumber, righting its sturdy legs back on the floor. The place still seemed thoroughly ransacked, but it will suffice for the night. With their reputation, perhaps I should be thankful the Black Hand did not raze the entire building.

I lie in the bed and relish in its soft embrace. The veil quickly looms over me, and the thoughts run silent. This time, instead of the ambience of critters and scent of green, it is the soft cradle of a pillow and blanket that accompanies me into the hereafter.

It is a nice change for once. I kindle a light smile, for one last moment of solace before the void is all that remains.

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The next few days are stifling. For every answer to a query, more take their place. And any I mean to ask in return are cast aside without a second thought. All the secrets and matters of interest to them, I already have unveiled.

Most see me little more than a source of insight, nothing more. In the rare moments I am allowed to roam freely beneath an open sky, I receive at best only contempt from the warriors. And at worst, the intent to slay me where I stood, yearning for blood to be spilled.

Once dawn or dusk came, there is always an inspection for us. An odd trinket held in one hand, its black lens always facing us. I fear even asking the reason as to why they would impose such a rule. There will be a scowl, and only raise their ire.

This morning proves very much the same, and so I stand at attention as the warrior hovers the trinket before me. Behind it stands his tempered glare, devoid of anything but scorn as I meet those bitter eyes, fueled with unbound caution.

There is nothing wrong with any of us. Such scrutiny is uncalled for and demeans us. A harsh glare is all I can offer each time, and it does nothing to dissuade them.

"Cleared, last one's done," the man relents, and turns around. The others beside him follow in his wake and depart out the building. This one is concluded, but the next looms just past duskfall.