Death is immortality.
Death is your second chance.
Velian Terrashine belongs to a classless society of equality, art and democracy; a land full of creativity and mindfulness. It is in that perfect political system that one wrong movement, one carele...
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BUNDLED UP IN complicated feelings I couldn't quite comprehend, I walked until the murmuring of the crowd couldn't reach my ears; I walked until I couldn't think of anything else but the chill that seeped into my bones the moment I descended a spiral stair and wound up in an empty and forgotten by the universe dungeon.
The blight of this merciless cell was the darkness that kissed every corner of it. No lights burned within. Terror should have filled my heart, making the world around me go quiet. There were no other cells here, no one around me to come and help me if anything happened. Yet it was the absence of miserable voices that made me step into it without reluctance. I was glad that the ancient dagger with the golden hilt was still in my grip. If anyone walked into that room, I would at least have a chance at survival.
The moisture here was worse than in any other cell, making the cold wind that unreasonably brushed my face feel crueler than ever. Touching the brick wall, I took small steps toward the back of the room and sighed in relief at the realization that I hadn't tripped over an empty bucket that had been left here since who knew when. That was good. I wouldn't even have to leave the room for my needs. That seemed like a small but still important victory.
As I sat on the stone floor, I didn't look around. I didn't want to observe anything for the rest of my day. I only brought my knees to my chest and closed my eyes, playing back every word I'd exchanged with Ian. On the cusp of my dispute with him, the ire and the exhaustion had contorted my ability to think straight. At least that would be what someone like Amanda would have said. I could imagine her admonishing me for the way I'd spoken to someone like Ian---so lonely and broken and clad in despair. But her speech would have been a complication of mindless words, spoken by someone who only knew one side of the truth.
The truth was that I cared. I wasn't crying, because I cared. I wasn't breaking, because I cared. I didn't want to listen to pessimistic nonsense things all the time, because I cared. If I let the realization of what had been going on for the past two or three weeks settle in, I would give up. And I didn't want to give up. I couldn't give up. So tonight, I didn't do anything else but breathe out the ashes of the fight and sleep until the masked men came for me again.
🔱
The masked men never came. And between moments of sleep and dizziness, I could swear that I heard Vanensera's voice whispering to me that it had worked. The next day, I heard her murmuring something about a rebellion; a rebellion stoked by the people that had come here from the Gap World.
I only hoped that these words hadn't been a dream. I only hoped that after the time I'd spent locked in that dungeon, I hadn't lost my mind.
🔱
Death lingered in the only cell that existed on the lowest floor of this building. I realized that the moment I'd decided that I had spent enough time regaining my powers and I should keep on moving. Someone had left next to me a lantern. I prayed it was Vanensera, so that the things I'd heard in my sleep hadn't been a product of my imagination.
