The Red Orb

Introduction: The Dark and Damp

A slow drizzle of moister had managed to make its way through the cracks of chilled stone that enclosed the endless echoes of screams and impenetrable darkness. However, to the ears within, only a frozen touch of death penetrated their broken senses as their bruised palms clenched to the ice covered bars scattered about every twist and turn of the hallways. The only true life that wandered the wrenched filth were the iron boots that enforced its terror; though, even these would darn not spiral down to the deepest depths of the shadows. And yet even still there remained a final layer of doom--one dying to be free of the unforgivable night. It was here I had found myself, lost with no recollection of my past nor what was to come. What had been set in my path, why these frozen walls surrounded me now I did not know. All I knew was the excruciating suffering that tugged at my extended arms as my knees constantly dug into what felt as dry bones. I had given up on crying out for help, the ropes and chains holding me in place ensured I could barely get the air I needed to breath and nothing more. So I sat, listening to a signal drop of cool moister in the distance.

Hours must have passed of me sitting in the cell when, to my surprise, a single voice arose nearby. It was accompanied by the echoing of heavy chainmail and laughter. "He's Sucre alright." A flaming torch came around the corner at the words, myself trying to shield my eyes in pain only to be forced to adjust to the group of three staring at me.

"I hardly see how all this is necessary," another one of the figures chuckled, "He looks as a normal man to me. What are all the--"

"Oh believe me sir, its plenty necessary." He was cut off, the new lighting just beginning to reveal their faces as a hand waved near my face, "Now please, can we leave this God forsaken place--it's been ages last anyone's even been down this far, I hardly understand why you insisted on seeing the man yourself."

A moment of silence came as the armored speaker turned to the one standing in between, this one's eyes locked on my own while the other two jumped back and forth with their sights in confusion. "And," he began to answer, "you're certain he is the one responsible?"

"With absolute certainty."

The man started to turn away with the reassurance of the others, my instantaneous response being to cough out with all I could muster, "What am I doing here!?" They stopped, may efforts trying to force my body to the ground, unable by the restraints.

"What did he say?" The man looked at the others.

"What does it matter?" The thick voice of what a now assumed to be a guard released a slight laugh. "Come on let's not waste our time any longer."

"V-very well." He hesitated once more and then the dim shadows of torch light faded, the cool chill of death returning to my cheeks as I let out the last of my saved breath, wishing that my lungs would produce the scream my chest endlessly released in my muscles. And yet, I soon again felt the minor warmth of the torch: out of the blue the scraping of boots had returned; however, this time it was of a retreat as the guard from before flashed in and out of my sight. This followed a half filled cry as what seemed to be an arrow rushed through the misty air--ending his life. I sat, nervously as the commotion continued, sounds of clinging iron and fists flying about just around the bend when it all stopped.

I could feel the sweat on my neck linger a short while after as a single pounding of boots came closer and closer. With it I could see a new circle of light leak toward the small room I hung in as a thin, leather armored man stepped in to view. At first, it appeared he was studying me when the low voice entered my ear, "Are you Xojhan?" The name found meaning in my mind, as if I had heard it a dozen times, but in my efforts to think I couldn't answer the stranger. Instead I took all attempts to at least speak out, but we were interrupted by a burst of shouts not far out, his head turning with a sigh, "doesn't matter, we're out of time." He leaped toward me, hands quickly running to my wrists as the sound of men around gained. "They got you in there tight..." The last of his words hit my eardrums as with great satisfaction I found my body fall to the ground and a great gasp sounding off. "We don't have time to talk, can you stand?" He rushed to the door momentarily before extending an arm my way.

"Yeah..." I panted, taking his palm, "I think so." And instantly the dancing of red in his hand went out, a force dragging me forward. My vision was still damaged through the time spent rushing the halls. If not for the strong pull of the strangers grip guiding my path I was certain to fall back to the hands of the men that scanned all around the dungeon. Fortunately, my rescuer had some skill in navigating the dark halls; though, one question hit my mind all through the madness: what was going on?