Swan Song ❂ Killian Jones [1]

1

Four walls, coated with dust and dirt. That is all she had seen in many years. A wooden door with a small square in its centre, covered and boarded with iron bars. That is what she stared at the most. Cold iron clasped around her ankle, enchanted to change shape as necessary. It bound her, kept her there even if she managed to succeed in coming up with a plan.

She spent her days trying to come up with a plan for the next time someone walked through the door. The next time she heard the keys jingle in front of it, heard the click of the lock as it was released. And yet, every time she came up short. Every morning before the sun rose, and every night before it set. Finding herself unable to fulfil her one and only wish. To get past that door. To be free.

By now, after so long, many would have lost all track of time. Mornings and nights melding together into one. However, for her that was impossible. She had a permanent reminder every time she saw the sun rise through a small hole in the corner of the ghastly place she was in. The walls were littered with carvings, serving as a reminder of the beginning too. When she would count the days of how long ago she had lost everything and everyone she ever loved. Quite some time had passed since she last carved a day. Quite some time since she lost hope too.

She'd tried to claw her way out, tried to dig at the hall in the wall. She'd even tried to attack the guards who brought her food many times. But every time she tried, she also failed. Many attempts at escapes caused many injuries. Broken bones from ripping at the wall so high up, shallow cuts and many bruises from the guards defending themselves. But unlike the others she could hear in the cells around her, she didn't stop fighting, she didn't give up hope that she could get free.

And she was close this time. Really close. All she needed was for the door to open. All she needed was for the foolish guard who worked in the morning to disregard her as he always does. He didn't know what she could do with enough of a chance. He didn't know what she was capable of. The new ones never did. Until it was too late.

But she knew it had to happen soon. The guard couldn't be late, or she'd lose her chance. She'd have to wait for tomorrow. Some would say 'You've been here so long, what's just one more day?' but she never knew which day was her last. She didn't even know why she'd lasted as long as she had. She didn't want to take the risk of her captor choosing that exact day as the one when he finally tires of her.

And so, when she heard the familiar sound of footsteps in front of her cell, that melodic sound of keys swinging through the air, clanging against one another as one in particular was placed in the lock, she prepared. Tucking her feet under her, she made sure her dress covered her ankles, ankles which were now unshackled. She ignored the scratching feeling along her wrist as she hid her weapon in her sleeve.

She'd caused quite a scene some days ago. She knew it wouldn't yield results, it wouldn't be her path to escape, but it wasn't meant to be. All that she was meant to gain was a piece of glass. She'd given up on trying to hide away utensils and keep them for herself. But nobody could ensure that all pieces of a broken glass were gathered and out of her reach.

It was a long night of work once she was sure she was ready. And after many scratches and cuts along her hands, some of which still ached and stung, she'd finally managed to get the pointy shard of glass to work in her favour. With the irons around her ankles unlatched, all she needed was an open door and a stunned guard.

She listened as the keys were placed in the lock. She listened as they turned. She listened to the clicking sound and the creak of the door being opened. She watched as the guard appeared in front of her, as he walked forward. She watched as the door swung behind him, remaining open. She watched as the keys were left dangling in the lock. The same pattern, every morning.

"On your feet, girl! Hands where I can see them!" The guard exclaimed in an authoritative tone. He may have been unaware of what she was capable of with her limited resources, but he knew to be wary. After all, vacancies in guarding the prisoners were rare...

She made slow progress at obeying, but she obeyed, nonetheless. She let her exhaustion show, for just a moment, letting herself seem weaker than she was. But the truth was, if there was one thing she never let herself do while wasting away in this cell, it was to grow weak.

But it was enough. Enough to make him let his guard down. Enough to make him kneel down to put the tray of food he's brought with him on the floor. In that way, he was better than the last guard who'd always just thrown the tray to the floor, not caring whether the food got coated in dirt. However, it wasn't enough for her to care or feel bad about what she was about to do next. Not when she was so close.

And so, she moved, her knee pushing forward as it came into contact with his face. The loud crack could be heard echoing in the cell. A broken nose, no doubt. But she didn't let the guard catch his breath, she didn't let him recover. Instead, the piece of glass she'd been hiding slid into her hand. And in one swift motion, as she rushed by him, the piece of glass found itself embedded in the guard's thigh, making him fall to the floor in shock from the pain.

Of course, he was trained to withstand the pain, and it didn't take him long to get back to his feet. He was rushing towards her. But by then, it was too late. The girl had already managed to rush past the door. Turning on her heel, she slammed it shut just as his hands wrapped around the bars, his screams at her accompanied with one simple sound, one familiar sound. The lock clicking back in place.

It was a small victory, a step forward. But there was many more ahead of her. And so, she turned on her heel, tuning out the guard's calls for help which were bound to attract attention sooner or later. She didn't want to be here to find out how long it would take this time.

She started to run, pushing her feet to carry her through the halls. And she only paused for one short second. For one simple task. She threw the keys. Not to the floor, not somewhere where they'd be hidden. No, she threw them into the arms of one of the other prisoners in the cell nearest to hers. Prisoners running around would distract the King long enough to give her a chance. All she needed was an opening, just enough to get out and set off.

And she needed the sun to rise. She felt how close it was, how soon it would happen. It made her push more, run faster. She knew where she was going, she'd made it there before in one of her attempts. It was all she needed. So once she saw the familiar door, she couldn't hold back the small smile that appeared on her face. Not even the sounds of more guards starting to rush the halls could distract her as she reached for the handle.

Pushing the door open, she felt the wind brush against her face, pushing some of her blonde hair into her eyes. But she didn't care. All she focused on was the horizon. All she focused on was the soft rays of the sun starting to breach over. And then she felt that familiar feeling. For the first time since she first experienced it, she was grateful for it now.

It came accompanied by a flash of light, as bright as the burning sun at midday. And then everything around her changed. Or better said, she was the one who changed. She grew smaller, transforming as the light consumed her. And by the time it was gone, she was certain of her freedom.

Because once it was gone, she could spread her wings. And that was exactly what she did. She looked at the white feathers, happy and pleased that at the moment she wasn't nursing a broken wing. It's what made taking off so easy. She pushed herself off the ground, flapping the wings she'd grown to know and trust in all these years, and she set off to the skies just as the guards appeared at the door.

They were too late. And all they could do was watch as the white swan which had been a girl only moments ago flew from their reach and into the colourful skies. Towards what she'd yearned for the most for so long now. Towards freedom.

Her plan had succeeded. As the thought registered in her mind, she let herself feel something she hadn't felt in so long. Odette felt hope.