Kingdom Gone

CAPTURED

Now. . .

I wake up tied to a chair.

I feel weak. My legs are heavy. I look down and see IV's attached to my arm, leading to a small bag on a hook beside me. What the fuck. . .

Looking up for the first time, I notice I'm in a small concrete room. No windows. One vent. And a drain in the corner. The only door is roughly ten feet in front of me, large and metallic. Most definitely locked.

I try to rock the chair only to find out the legs are attached to the floor, and whoever tied me up knew what they were doing. I can't move my arms or legs, my hands nowhere near and vital knots. Shit.

Suddenly I hear footsteps, then keys rustling. The door swings open, and thin faced woman walks in, closing it behind her. She's wearing a navy blue uniform, with medals and insignias that are unlike anything I've ever seen before. She faces me.

"Where am I?" I croak, throat dry as a desert.

"The Eighth Kingdom." The woman says, arms folded behind her back, face devoid of all emotion.

"Where are. . . my-"

"Your friends are in another cell, they've all already been interrogated and cooperated fully. Well, except that blind girl. She required more intense interrogation."

I scowl. "The only thing that differentiates the word interrogation from torture is the way they're spelled. I swear to God if you laid a finger-"

"You clearly aren't as naive as the others." Thin faced Lady interrupts, pacing around me. "I am General Sybill, leader of the Eighth Kingdom military. Your friends gained consciousness within an hour after we found you. You on the other hand, Jason Landing, have been in and out over the past few days. I've had a doctor assigned to take care of you until you woke up." Sybill says, swiftly gesturing at the IV's as she walked around, quickly resuming her perfect posture, hands in the small of her back.

My minds racing despite the dull pain behind my eyes. "How do you know my name?"

The General is standing in front of me once again. "You've gained quite the reputation in the Utopia, Jason. Rumors that you know the ins and outs in of every Kingdom, back doors to the most clandestine locations. And whispers of your involvement in a corporate black operation two years ago." She bends at the waist, face inches from mine. "You will tell me everything you know about that operation, or we will use. . . advanced interrogation techniques to get this knowledge."

I usually don't give a shit about classified information, but I can't disclose this one. I made an oath. "Go to hell. If you think--woah, wait a second! Did you say days? How long have we been here?"

Sybill stands straight again, reaching for the door handle. "It doesn't matter. Your sense of time will become obsolete soon enough."

"Hey! You fuckin' bitch! You better tell me what the hell is-"

She slams the door shut behind her, the sound of the lock engaging echoing well after her footsteps disappear down the hall.

* * *

Nijah arrived on the 10th day since Circe woke up.

Two soldiers tossed her limp body in the cell after making her sit against the wall, hands above her head. When they shut the door Circe ran to her friend's side. "Nijah! Nijah, talk to me. Can you talk?"

Nijah didn't respond, but Circe felt her chest rise and fall. She was alive. She pulled Nijah to the corner of the cell, laying her down on her side.

They tortured Circe as well, but knew right away that she knew nothing, that she had nothing valuable to them. Circe looked down at Nijah's bruised face.

A vigilante needs to know secrets, no wonder they hurt her so bad. Her attitude probably didn't help her either. She had no idea where they were keeping Sam. Most likely somewhere to restrain her arm.

Circe sighed. As Jason would've put it: they were fucked. She hadn't been able to muster a spark. Her powers were linked to her emotions, she knew that. So what changed?

The kiss.

She could still imagine the moment in her mind, every detail. Even the feeling she felt within herself. Something she'd never felt before, and could still feel in her chest whenever she thought of him.

Was that what was dampening her powers? Or the fact that she had no idea whether he was alive or not?

Circe looked down at Nijah. Jason was strong, but who knew with these soldiers. . .

The thought knotted up her stomach. She had to see him. But how would she? She had no powers, Nijah's out for the count, and she had no clue where to find Sam. Circe closed her eyes, imagining what Jason would do in this situation, what he would say. But something else came to her.

There's going to be a time in the future when things look bad, and I'm not able to save us. If we ever get separated and you know the end is near, I want you to open that.

The box.

Circe opened her eyes and quickly reached down her shirt, dug in her bra and pulled out the gift Jason gave her just before they left Arcadia. She was relieved that the soldiers who must've searched them refrained from checking where she hid it. With her nail she pried off the lid and dumped the box's contents in her hand. What came out was a bit larger than a quarter, metallic, and had two holes: one on the end, and a smaller one in the shape of a rectangle near the center.

A whistle.

Circe expected a weapon of some sort, knowing Jason. But she didn't lose hope. There had to be a reason he gave this to her. Circe stood up and walked over to the small viewing window in her cell, the waters of Lake Lake visible below.. She held her face between the bars, pressed the whistle against her lips, and blew. A high pitched note pierced the air, cutting through the foggy air.

And from somewhere far, far off, Circe heard a eerily familiar howl.