My mind felt like one of those whirlpools formed by ocean currents, spinning uncontrollably. My back was killing me, like a thousand needles piercing my spine. I tried to move, but my whole body ached. The cold atmosphere pressed in, and I felt a hard wall behind me. I coughed and tasted blood in my mouth.

"Here." A voice said.

I opened my eyes. Bars stood in front of me, and a faint ray of light peeked through a small window high up near the ceiling. A silhouette watched me.

"It's a napkin. For the blood." The voice said.

It took me a few seconds to focus. My eyes hurt as if I had been staring at the sun for too long. The first thing I saw was a hand reaching through the bars of the cell where I was trapped, clutching a piece of white cloth. Then I gazed at his face: red paint under his eyes, the black tattoo of a wing on fire. His hair was almost shaved, his face skeletal. He looked thinner than the last time I saw him: Michael.

"Am I dead?" I asked.

"No, but I'm not sure 'alive' fits either." He said.

"Very funny."

I took the napkin and wiped the blood from my mouth. Seeing him didn't surprise me. Somehow, I had expected this moment would come. There was no nostalgia or sadness, just a hint of anticipation. After all, five years had passed. Who were we now?

"I thought I would find you." I said.

"But this time, it was me who found you." He said.

Silence. He looked so different. There was no trace of the young, frightened boy he had been. He seemed calm, self-assured, and wise. His facial bones stood out sharply.

"You're too thin, Michael."

"Rowand." He said.

"What?"

"That's my name, Rowand. No one calls me Michael anymore."

"Can I ask why?" I said incredulously.

"I had to leave certain things behind." He explained.

I moved closer to the bars to see him better. "Have you left me behind as well?"

"I don't know yet. Who are you?" He asked leaning in.

I puffed. "You know who I am."

"The last time I saw you, you were a Narval Officer and this time, you and your friends came to attack us. I have no idea who you are."

"I'm not a Narval Officer anymore and you were the ones attacking us first." I stated. "Where's Heather?" I blurted out.

Michael scoffed. "I wondered when you'd ask."

"Where is she?" I said more firmly.

"Funny, she asked the same thing about you."

"Answer, Michael." I repeated.

"Rowand." He said with a tinge of anger in his voice. "Why do you care so much?"

"I care because she matters to me. Just as you care about Erik." I said.

Michael blinked nervously. It was as if my words had struck a raw nerve, piercing through the tough facade he wore.

"Erik is gone." He said.

"No, Michael. Erik is not gone."

"Liar." He said.

"I'm not." I said.

"You won't manipulate me this time." Michael opened the grey metallic door behind him to leave.

"Wait!" I said while taking out the gift Erik had given me for him. "Here, judge for yourself. Erik gave me this for you."

Michael turned around and looked at it.

"What's this?" He asked.

"I have no idea, but it's for you." I said reaching the bars and passing my arm through.

He smiled sarcastically. "Do you think I'm an idiot?" His red paint reflected in his angry eyes. He turned around and left, slamming the door.

The first night felt endless, mainly because the silence was overwhelming. I wasn't used to such calm; it only made my mind race more. I couldn't stop replaying the events of the past few hours before I ended up in this dark hole. Over and over, I told myself the story: We reached the point marked on the map, but all we found was a trap door in an old wooden cabin. Then the soldiers ambushed us. As far as I know, Heather and I were captured, while Stella and Beverly managed to escape. My back felt like broken glass and my stomach had a bruise as big as a melon, but besides that I was ok.

Then I mentally listed all the questions I had: 1) Where was Heather? 2)  Was she ok? 3) Why did they capture us? 4) Was Michael still my brother? 5) Where in hell was I right now? 6) Why we didn't find any source of energy, as it was shown on the coordinator device? 7) Would Michale forgive me someday?

At some point, I lost myself on the questions and drifted off to sleep on that sack of straw that passed for a bed.

The shrill sound of a hard object impacting the bars of the cell woke me up. It was probably morning, but it was difficult to say since the only reference I had for the time was the tiny window nearly reaching the ceiling.

"Eat." Michael, in front of the cell, held a can with a pale yellow cream full of lumps.

I sat up, feeling my back stiff and unyielding like cardboard.

"What if I don't want to?" I said.

"Then you'll starve to death." He said passing the can through the bars of the cell. He left it on the floor.

"Where's Heather?" I asked.

"Eat." He repeated.

I took the spoon that was resting inside that white paste. It looked revolting.

"Aren't you curious?" I said pulling out again the gift Erik had given me and that he had refused to take. Michael looked at it, but this time his eyes didn't show any emotion, after a moment he turned to leave.

"Michael hold on!" I called.

"Don't call me Michael." He slammed the door behind him.

I didn't see him for two days after that. Other soldiers came to give me more of that disgusting white pastry that tasted like sand. None of them answered any of my questions ever. Only once one of them commented that I was very lucky to be alive and that the Commander had been merciful with me. By Commander, did they mean Michael?

The third day he finally returned.

"So, apparently you are the commander?" I said right after he came in.

"Not apparently. Certainly." He replied.

"How's that?"

"When you have nothing to lose, you can do anything." He said.

"Impressive," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Alright, Commander, what brings you here? Surely not a social call."

"What do you know about Heather Anderson?" He asked.

I frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Tell me what you know." He insisted.

"I'm not telling you anything until I see her." 

"Not going to happen." Michael said.

"Why the hell not?" I raised my voice, I was starting to be sick of his attitude.

"I don't owe you any explanation." 

I lunged at the bars, thrusting an arm through. He tried to pull back, but I was faster and I grabbed his shirt, pulling him toward me.

"Michael! I'm your big sister! Stop this behavior." I said furious.

He gripped my wrist and yanked me down with the strength of a bear, making me feel as weak as a puppy. I crashed to the ground, and pain shot through my back.

"I'm Rowand and you are not my sister." He shouted. "Now, answer the question." He said.

"I'll answer just if you take this." I pulled out Erik's gift again, holding it out to him.

Michael rolled his eyes, exasperated.

"He made me promise to give it to you. I'm not breaking that promise. Take it, do whatever you want with it, but at least take it." I insisted.

Michael remained silent for a moment, staring at the gift. "Fine. Now speak."

I let myself fall against the wall, exhausted. Between the crappy food they gave me and the fact that I hadn't slept for more than an hour straight, I was worn out.

"She was the lead of the Border," I began. "We met when I was assigned as a Narval Officer. She transferred people to the Reg Society. But after the attack at the border, we lost contact for five years. She was reassigned to the Under City hub as a Scramble Wrangler. We reunited for the mission. She's the smartest person I've ever known and incredibly loyal to her beliefs. She's also stubborn as hell. Don't try to argue with her; you'll always lose. That's all I know." I explained.

"Is that so?" he asked skeptically, his eyes narrowing.

I nodded. "Yes."

"You don't know anything about her parents, then?"

"No... She doesn't have any. She grew up in a Sanctuary, as far as I know."

Michael nodded, processing the information. "Alright. We're done here." He turned to leave.

"Wait! You have to take this." I said, reaching for Erik's gift again.

Michael stared at the little package, hesitating. "This better not be a trick, Grace."

He took it from my hand, then turned and left.

He had said my name. I smiled despite everything.

Unexpectedly the next day, two soldiers brought Heather. I could hear her from a mile away, shouting curses like a furious hurricane.

When they opened the door and pushed her inside my cell, I caught her just before she hit the ground.

"Assholes." She spat as the soldiers left.

She had scratches on her arms, bruises around her neck, and a cut on her lower lip. Her eyes were bloodshot, likely from not having slept for days.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Have you seen me?" she started sarcastically. "I've got more bruises than skin. They only gave me some disgusting cream that tasted like mud, so I tried to steal a soldier's sandwich and he twisted my arm. Now I can't even raise it without feeling a knife jabbing inside. Plus, I can't even feel my back anymore because that damn cell didn't have anywhere decent to lie down, and on top of that..."

Before she could finish, I wrapped my arms around her. She trailed off. I felt her heartbeat thumping against my neck. Her hair brushed against my fingers as I held her close. There was a pause, and then she hugged me back. Just as tightly.

Author's Note:

Helloooo! 😊

Michael and Grace have finally reunited... What did you think about that hug? 😳

And what are your thoughts on Michael? I'm curious to know! 

You know what? We're not that far from the end... Wild, right? But there are still so many things yet to unfold. Let's not rush anything; I just want you to enjoy the story until the very end. Hope you are!

Love you all!🥰

Ava💫