Everything is such pure white that my eyes ache from looking at it, and I sit up when pretending to sleep becomes boring. I'm wearing bright neon orange and purple scrubs, and the colors clash so badly that I feel like throwing up. There's this weird white boot on my right foot that looks like it's made from some sort of really tight rubber. My other foot is bare, which makes me wonder about the system here.

I stand up as best I can with my knees shaking like jelly.

The room's pretty boring, even for a prison cell. It's definitely not what I'd expected. The walls, ceiling, and floor are bleach-white and perfectly smooth. They're so clean that they actually shine. The only other thing in this room is the cot, which matches the rest of the decor quite nicely.

That means that it's also white.

The only thing out of place here is me and my weirdly colored prison scrubs. Neon purple and orange? Only one boot?

There's a sound behind me, and I jump in surprise. I whirl around to see a (white) door and a small (white) slot at the bottom that opens smoothly and silently. Good to know that they take the time to oil the food slots here.

The food tray slides on the floor from the food slot to my cot. There's this little note folded up underneath this weird brown lump that I don't think should be food. I take the note and open it up.

4578-

A new day brings new opportunity.

Carpe Diem.

Welcome to Svartalfheim.

I shake my head at the letter, crumpling it up and throwing it to the side. Who do these people think they're fooling? Finding a note like that in a prison, on top of everything else. . . ? I just don't get it. What the Helheim is going on?

"They're mocking you."

I hear a voice, and I whirl around. I thought that I was in solitary confinement; there shouldn't be anyone else here with me.

"Who's there?" I ask.

There's silence, and I wait about ten minutes for an answer. I get nothing, so I dismiss it as my imagination as I reach for the food on the tray.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

I get up again and decide that it's definitely not my imagination.

"Who the Helheim are you, and what do you want? I know you're there!"

There's a pause, but I keep waiting, not moving until the voice finally answers. It sounds male, and I can't really place where it's coming from. It's like the speaker moves around, but I can't see them as I try to follow the sound with my ears.

"I'm a prisoner just like you. And I want to get out of here, just like you."

"You're not supposed to be here." I say, looking around for the source of the voice.

"No kidding, gargan. Are you?"

"I don't know. I don't remember anything."

I hear him sigh in exasperation.

"You're completely clueless. I should just let you eat the food and wait for the next one."

My eyes widen as I quickly look at the food.

"The next one?" I echo.

"They reuse the same cells and numbers, kamphundr. When one dies, another takes his place just as quickly."

I fall to my knees again, holding my head. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know what I will do, after my sentence is finished. All I know is that death will come sooner or later, and her half-corpse body will drag mine into the depths of Helheim.

The voice goes silent, and I wait for several painful moments. I'm starved for conversation, for someone to say something that I can answer to. For some reaction to justify the fact that I am talking and that what I say matters. Something to prove that I'm not just that tree that falls in the forest that no one hears or cares about.

"Hello? You still there?" I say as I raise my head, looking for the speaker. Whoever they are, they don't answer back.

I keep waiting, sitting on my cot and holding my knees close to my chest. It feels wrong, being alone like this. Back at the Foundling Hospital, I was bunked with several kids my age. I swung fists and kicked shins to be able to sleep in the top bunk. But here, there's no one either above me or below me. I used to eat alongside kids that would fight me with their elbows as they guarded their meals, hunching over them to keep them from being snuck away by quiet hands. There was always chatter, always body language that said something worth paying attention to. There was always an audience when a fight began. There was always some sort of rally when one of the kids got in trouble. There was always someone to watch, to listen.

I get lost in my memories, and I don't know how much time passes when the door swings open. My head snaps up immediately to look at them. They don't look like trolls or evil elves. They look perfectly normal in their crisp white uniforms, their backs rod-straight with discipline. Their faces are clean, and one of them has ears that point. The other has rounded ears, and I can't tell if he's human or harmr, or any other type of semi-human.

"Prisoner 4578 to be taken to Rehabilitation Wing, Section 926."

I step back as the semi-human comes at me with chains. I'm about three feet away from the cot when the boot on my right foot tightens. I stumble back in surprise, and it constricts so much that my foot feels like it's being crushed as I yell out in pain.

I fall on my back, and the semi-human turns me over to clasp my hands behind me. Then he touches the boot, and the pressure on my foot is released.

He pulls me to my feet, and I begin to squirm against his grip. He bashes me on the head, and I stop. I'm pushed out of my cell with uneven steps; the white boot is higher than my bare left foot.

I pass several other rooms as I walk between them in the hallway. I'm listening closely, but I can't hear anything. The rooms are soundproof, which means that the voice I heard wasn't from somebody in a neighboring cell. The sound seemed to move from place to place, which rules out tiny microphones. Whoever talked to me was actually inside the cell with me, which means that these people don't know they're in there, or they wouldn't have assigned me to that cell. The person I heard could have slipped out when these guys came to get me. If they did, then there's no reason for them to talk to me, no reason at all.

Nothing's making sense, and it's hurting my mind from the inside out.

We stop in front of another door. It'd be easy to get lost in this place if I escaped, everything looks identical. I could walk through the door that led back into my cell without knowing it.

This place, however, looks nothing like my cell at all.

There's this big metal table that's nailed to the floor, and it has shackles attached to it, and underneath it is this box with slits that looks like some sort of heater. Around this table are these mirror-like screens that hang on every side.

I have this uneasy feeling that the table's meant for me.

Sure enough, I'm shackled to the table with the screens around me. I hear something like a click, then I feel this unbearable heat on my back before the shackles around my wrists begin to sear my skin. I struggle as the screens begin to glow with such blinding white light that I can see it even through the lids of my eyes when I close them.

Then I feel like I'm falling, and I open my eyes to see the fires of Muspell.

--

I'm shaking uncontrollably when they throw me back on my cot.

The bright white light of the cell burns the feeling of fire back into me, and I curl into a ball and close my eyes. They leave, and the door clicks neatly back into its place.

"Four, five, seven, eight. A new day brings new opportunity, Carpe Diem, welcome to Svartalfheim. They sure have a twisted sense of humor."

I don't move a muscle as he speaks. After hearing nothing but my own screams for what feels like an eternity, I wish to hear nothing at all. I want to see no light, hear no cries, feel no pain.

"So you've finally shut up, huh? Good to know, good to know. You're not babbling with insanity, so that's also a plus. If you're completely sane, well, even better!"

"What do you want?" I whisper with my throat full of thorns.

"I want out of here, and I need you for that, kid."

I don't raise my head, and I curl up into a tighter ball.

"I can't help you. Leave me alone."

"Sure, I'll just magic myself out of the cell and back into a world where I won't be dead. Kid, you're clueless, ignorant, and immature. But if you survived that with your sanity somewhat intact, then you're my best hope, kid. I have a plan, and you're the only thing that can make it work. I can even get you out of here, for a bargain."

I raise my head slowly. I still can't see him, but I'm definitely listening now.

"How?" I croak.

I hear a scuffle, and I turn my head to it. By then, the voice is already coming from somewhere else.

"That depends on how much you want to get out. Will you do anything, absolutely anything to escape? Of course, you very literally have nothing much to lose. You don't have a name, a home, or even that much of a life. You're going to have to lose even more just to get out. Are you willing to lose your identity? Your personality? Everything that makes you who you are? Just to get out of this Jörmungandr-damned prison?"

I remember the fire. I remember Muspell. I saw it as I burned on the table, blinded by unbearable white. I don't know what happened, or how everything I've known could change so much.

All I know is that I will either leave this place or die in it.

"In return, you're going to have to take me with you. You're the only one who can get out, and you're going to have to free me too if you want to get out of Svartalfheim itself."

"Yes." I whisper. "What do I have to do?"