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Duiver ~ du-ver
Shandril ~ shan-dril
Nodoni ~ no-doh-nee
Gaiñ ~ gain-ya
♛

EVEN as dark as her skin was, it looked pale, paler than death. Her once plump and pink lips were now dry and chapped, devoid of their usual vibrancy. Closed eyes hid any trace of her former youthful glow. Davina was not a doctor, but Gema knew she was trying her best.

It hadn't been a simple task, carrying a bleeding Salome back to the entrance and blowing the place up when it wouldn't open. The explosion that had followed their escape from the locked tunnels had left the upper ground in ruins, engulfed in smoke and shattered debris. Amidst the chaos, Gema pressed forward, shrouded by smoke and fire, chanting Jamie and Marcela's names in her mind and whispering words of encouragement for Salome.

She couldn't take Salome to the hospital, not with red guards swarming every inch, and she couldn't trust that their room at Canlian Dridhul would not be compromised. Even if it wasn't, that was a risk she was not willing to take. It was a miracle how the young girl had persevered till they reached Davina's door.

At first, she thought the red guards were here for them, but how did they know Salome was still fighting for her life? If they thought Salome was dead, and captured all the others, what were they still doing here?

Only when Davina left to gather supplies, did they discover the reason behind the guards' presence - another SiatJan attack had taken place simultaneously. The piercing sound of sirens had accompanied Gema's escape from the tunnel, signaling the devastation that had unfolded just outside Dhul, between the city and its neighbor, Duiver.

The death toll from this attack was the second highest in SiatJan history, surpassed only by the initial assault on Whiscanter. Why? This was the first attack in the history of Vunmarc and the region was wholly under-prepared.

Although the people couldn't fathom why their region was never affected—they didn't have glass for land like Yhulja. Neither could they understand why the attack happened now.

Gema, on the other hand, could bet it was because of Karyn's presence.

"Who was she to you?" Davina asked with a hand on Gema's shoulder.

Gema frowned. "Was? You think she won't make it?"

When Davina didn't answer, Gema glanced at her mother, who held an uncertain look.

"She's lost a lot of blood and her fever isn't letting up. The bleeding hasn't stopped either, despite all we've done."

With Gema not willing to risk going anywhere the guards could discover them, the only place she could go was Davina's house, who called a doctor friend of hers.

Emerald eyes met Gema's brown. "Things aren't looking good for her, despite all we've done."

Gema couldn't stand the pity that Davina's eyes held, so she focused back on Salome, but even the sight of the young girl doused in sweat like she had been running a mile and not sleeping was too torturous for the Rubian.

"She said she wanted to be like me. No one has ever trusted me as much as she did. And I let her down."

"You didn't. Gema, you can't take the blame for this, you—"

"No, I should, because she's in my custody, my care. But you're right, part of this is the Red Guard, who should be fighting SiatJans and keeping the people safe, not imprisoning their own simply because they have magic."

Gema rose to her feet and gripped the only item she had with her, Karyn's rucksack. There was only one thing of value inside.

"Where are you going?"

"To the root of all this. Dovelyn and Grandma have a lot to answer for." Gema was about to storm away but paused.

She didn't know when next she would see Salome. The young girl was not fit for travel, even if she woke up at this moment.

A tremor ran through the Rubian as she spoke, her voice thick with unshed tears and barely controlled rage. "Davina, if she doesn't..."

When Gema couldn't continue, Davina walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You do what you have to. We'll do our best."

It wasn't much, but it was enough to push Gema forward. Gema knew Davina didn't see things looking good for Salome, but she would try, and that was all Gema needed. For now, she had a mansion to storm and if she didn't get what she wanted, then it would burn.

It had been days since the ambush in the tunnel. She couldn't stay and watch Salome for the first few days, so she went searching for answers. She found one as Zack's friend, Azriel, who, after threats from her, revealed what he knew about Sahsa.

"Winder Street," Azriel had grunted when she held him pressed to the wall by chains of fire.

She had been trailing him and once she caught him alone; she pounced.

"How do I get in?"

"There's a truck that goes in every Wednesday at noon." He took in a large breath through his nose as his wide eyes fixed on the fiery chains wrapped around him. "They carry his supplies and they are always looking for transporters. I don't know any other way, I swear." He grunted as beads of sweat trailed down his temples.

She frowned and intensified the heat of her chains.

"When you see Zack, tell him to pray to the stars that I don't find him. If he's connected to this mess, then I'll burn him down to his bones."

The threat didn't taste vile in her mouth because she meant every word. It was too much of a coincidence for him to vanish right before the ambush. Who else would have given their position away?

There was only one other option, and that was the man who gave them the position, so she sought the transportation company and after two days, she had her interview.

"It's too bright?" the man had drawled.

"I could wear a cap."

"No."

Carlv's transports didn't accept her for one reason. Her hair.

Gema used all the power in her to stop herself from unleashing fire on the entire building. She couldn't let her rage do the thinking, not now. Not when Salome needed her to be rational.

So, for the first time in her life, Gema considered what it would be like to have her hair a different color. Since they'd turned her down, she sat in the bushes surrounding the entrance to Sahsa's mansion, watching all movement into the gate which was the single entrance. She'd spent another two days trudging around the mansion for any back doors, but it didn't surprise her to find none.

After all, he ran The Jrin. If at all there was any other entrance, it would be underground.

Getting up to dust the leaves off her jeans, Gema saw the approaching truck. She'd cast her eyes away in nonchalance, ready to trudge finally to leave the forest she'd been camping in when she saw the truck stop a distance before the entrance to Winder Street.

She frowned, wondering why the person driving stopped. Then a worker emerged from the back of the truck and wandered into the trees that lined the road, the same one she used as her shroud. Realizing the opportunity in front of her, Gema followed him to find him in a position of relieving himself.

She crept up behind as the man rounded up. His whistling rang loud enough to cover the crunch of leaves beneath her feet. When she was close enough, the man must have sensed a presence, for he turned, but before he could yell, she let loose a punch. It didn't even come with a ball of fire, but it was enough to knock him out cold.

Working with precision and swiftness, she moved to strip the man of his clothes and wear them. When she made sure her red hair had completely disappeared under the cap, she moved out, holding onto the rucksack, which weighed more with her clothes stuffed in it.

The driver showed no sign of alarm; either he was unaware, or she was a convincing impersonator. She took in the boxes that sat at the back of the truck before she sat on one bench, hiding the rucksack between them as the driver drove on.

She made her way into the mansion with ease, carrying the boxes into a lobby through a backdoor. It was only when she had dropped the last box that she found a way. Instead of heading back into the truck, she walked through the second door, which led her to a hallway with only one door on both sides.

She glanced at the two doors on the sides before walking past them and further down the long, dimly lit hallway, passing its empty mustard-colored walls and carpeted floor. As she reached the end, a spiral staircase wound its way upward, beckoning her to follow. When she reached the first landing, she became conflicted. Should she continue climbing toward the unknown upper floors, or take the moment to explore what lay on this level?

It was then that she caught sight of a dark, palm-sized stain embedded in the mustard wallpaper. Curiosity piqued, she drew closer to inspect it. The outline was unmistakably that of a child's hand, a tiny reminder of innocence. She looked around, eyes drifting from door to door on this level. Was there a child somewhere within this vast, empty house?

She glanced back at the walls, scanning for more prints, and she soon found a trail of them. Intrigued, she followed the faint marks until they guided her to a door slightly ajar at the end of the hallway. Pushing the door open, Gema stepped into a room that seemed frozen in time. The small bed, with its mismatched quilt, appeared like one made for a child, and colorful stick figure drawings adorned the walls. Each whimsical creation had the word "papa" accompanying it, scrawled in uneven letters, resembling a child's eager attempt at art. Gema concluded this could be Sahsa's child.

"Who are you?"

She spun, raising her hands to fists, but stopped midway when she saw a little girl with blonde hair a mess of curls atop her head.

Gema guessed this was the owner of the room. She crouched at the girl's level.

"I want to talk to your father."

"Papa?"

Gema nodded, but the girl took a step back.

"Only bad people talk to Papa." The little girl's eyes peered back at Gema with a wary look on them.

"I'm not a bad person."

"How do I know you're not like those men who came?"

"Which men?"

"Taralita, hope you're getting ready to—"

Gema had a good guess who it was, even if she had never met him before.

"Who are you?" the man asked the same question the little girl did, who had run to stand behind the man, her father.

Gema rose from her crouched position and took off the cap so the man and child could have a better view of her face. The little girl's eyes widened as they fixed on Gema's red hair, but the man's eyes showed no sign of recognition, only frustration, with his eyes lingering on the uniform she wore.

"You must be Sahsa."

The short, plump man stood strong, his face clenched in a scowl, and hands balled in a fist by his side. "What do you want? Why did you come all the way up? Didn't I tell you guys—"

He stopped when she let loose a ball of flame. The girl let out a yelp and her little hands tightened around her father's legs. A flicker of pure terror, like a trapped bird, showed in his eyes, and she saw his Adam's apple bob nervously in his throat.

"Do you remember the group you gave passage to Dhandria?"

The man's eyes widened for a fraction before they narrowed.

"I give many groups passage to—"

"The group that got ambushed by red guards."

This time when his eyes widened, they registered shock.

"Red guards? I thought—"

"You sold us out to red guards when we asked for safe passage." The ball of flame grew larger.

"Papa, I'm scared," Tara said and hugged her father's leg while he placed his hands over her head.

"I didn't know those were guards. They... they threatened my daughter. And she's all I have. I'm all she has. I swear if I knew I would have—"

"What you would have done doesn't matter. You will take me to Whiscanter."

"Whisc... But my network only runs across Vunmarc, Yhul—"

"You will take me to Whiscanter or your daughter won't have you to call a father anymore," she said, the murderous intent shining in her eyes and screaming through her voice.

♛ ♛ ♛

KARYN found herself trapped in a disorienting passage of time that felt both endless and fleeting. She couldn't quite determine if it had been mere days, weeks, or possibly even months. The sensation of time slipping through her fingers only deepened her sense of isolation.

Not a single refreshing touch of rain washed over the barren frozen land, nor did the sun break through the oppressive misty skies which robbed her of the comforting sight of stars twinkling against a night sky or the gentle glow of the two moons.

Karyn had tried to ignite warmth within herself, clinging fiercely to the fire of vengeance that burned in her heart. But even that searing passion was no match for the bone-chilling cold that seeped into her very marrow, leaving her shivering and desperate. It felt as if the world around her was a realm devoid of warmth and hope, where every moment stretched on painfully.

Her brows were in a permanent furrow as she used the shovel to take a pile of pine-colored paste and toss it into a bucket. Her shivering hands made a mess as some clumps fell from the shovel and onto the floor. When it fell, it fizzled and soon evaporated, creating a choking scent that filled Karyn's nostrils. The smell, unlike anything she had perceived, made Karyn cough repeatedly. Despite the many times she'd come here and fallen sick after, she never got used to the smell.

"It's meant to go in the bucket, not the ground!" the old woman she knew as Hulia shrieked before she coughed. Nothing Karyn ever did, pleased the woman, and Karyn always ended up mirroring the woman's scowl.

Karyn thought back to her reason for finding herself down in the cold mines beneath the prison, mining for Shandril, the special material the red guards used to make weapons targeted against magic. Perhaps this was the reason she was in a perpetual state of emptiness as if the material kept draining her power.

Yet it confused her?

This material could only dull one's powers, and that was when the machinery of the Red Guard converted to something useful. In its natural state, it was toxic to Endoni and Nodoni alike. So why did everyone lose their powers once in the Grand Prison?

Karyn didn't know what it was, but she suspected it had to do with the signs and symbols on the wall. Signs and symbols that resembled the one she saw in the basement of Vesper's shed.

"Put your hands to good use, gaiñ!"

Karyn frowned at the term but continued shoving the material. Her hands were screaming under the strain and her mind didn't stop in its relentless reminder of the fact that she would still carry the large bucket up countless stairs. Despite that, she resolved that if she could go back in time, she would do everything exactly as she had done.

"If you were going to be shaking down to your bones, you shouldn't have spoken to those Red Guards the way you did." Hulia snorted as she too moved buckets of the paste closer to the staircase. Despite the frigid cold, Hulia moved with apt precision, as if the cold was nothing but a smothering caress.

The woman continued, "Turning yourself into a hero will do nothing but get you killed in this place, gaiñ!"

Karyn dropped the shovel to fix her gaze on the old woman. Her white hair rose like short spikes from her head, frail and scanty, which Karyn suspected had to do with years of being uncatered to. Karyn didn't know how long anyone had spent here, but it was general knowledge that Hulia was the longest-living prisoner. All who were in prison now had met Hulia here. It wasn't because she was the part of the earliest prisoners. Rather because she was the one who had survived the longest.

"What should I have done, Hulia?" Karyn questioned, letting out a breath of frustration. "Should I have watched them beat her to death because she couldn't wield her magic in front of them when they very well know she couldn't? That we all can't. They would have killed her."

"Then you let 'em!"

The words shut Karyn's mouth into silence.

Ever since she'd gotten paired with Hulia in the same cell, the woman always chastised everything she did. Whether it was how she slept on her sides, or how she walked like an old lady. Hulia found every reason to complain about Karyn.

"Do you think if I stood up for everyone I would still be here? That is the only way to survive. If you have to turn deaf and blind, then do so."

"And what kind of life would I be living if I'm deaf, blind, and mute?"

"A long one."

"Then I would rather die."

The woman's gray eyes narrowed and Karyn could sense the woman had more to say from how her lips quivered. But Hulia said nothing and went back to carrying the buckets to the staircase.

When they were finally taking their last trip of buckets, Karyn trailed behind the woman as they took the torturous journey up the tall steps, all five thousand and twenty-eight of them. Karyn had traveled up and down too many times. She knew the number by now.

Sweat trailed down every point on her body, but they barely left a path as the cold froze them soon enough, forming ice spots she knew would turn to blisters soon.

"Are you going to join them?"

Karyn dropped the bucket with a thud to catch her breath. She looked down at the paste. It should have some liquid content in it and that should be enough to quench the unending thirst that ravaged her.

"Has the cold made your tongue as ineffective as your limbs?"

Karyn looked up, bristling at the woman's jibe, but asked instead, "Join who?"

"Those who want to leave."

She licked her chapped lips, getting a scratching sensation as her tongue glided over the broken skin. "Want to leave? Don't you want to leave?"

"I was one of the first set of prisoners here, of course. I want to leave here. Anyone in their sane mind would. But sanity is not enough to brave one for the long journey ahead."

How had she not known of any plan? Sure, she didn't talk to many people because the Grand Prison of Cosdn was not a place to make friends, but that didn't mean she kept to herself always. She'd soon earned a reputation as the only person speaking up for people mistreated by guards and other prisoners, hence the many trips down to the mines. Despite her efforts, no one came to thank her. Everyone simply left her alone whenever she raised her voice against any guard, even those she helped.

"I've not heard anything about that. How are they going to leave?"

"Giliashad has been raving on about his friends from..." Hulia paused and Karyn frowned as the woman beckoned for her to come closer with a wave of her icy hands. Karyn did as the woman gestured, leaving the two metallic buckets behind.

"Friends from The Reviwina," Hulia whispered and at the rise of Karyn's brows, the woman nodded before she turned and continued up, prompting Karyn to follow.

The Reviwina. They were the ones that got them through the border. Just thinking about that journey brought back memories of the clever ruse she had put up, and with it, the painful reminder of Zack. It felt like a lifetime since she had last seen his face. Even now, the memory of his rare, radiant smile emerged like a beacon of hope in her darkest moments. As her hands came to her chest, her bare skin underneath her uniform reminded her of the emptiness left behind. Another thing the Red Guard had taken from her. Her silver necklace, and Zack's ring.

Her nails scratched at the empty spot that felt like a hole had been dug in her chest.

"But it sounds like a fool's dream." Hulia's shrill voice broke her out of her reverie, making her focus on lifting the buckets. "Or perhaps, as Giliashad said, I am too old to dream. But you are young, so you will leave."

It didn't sound like the woman was contemplating. It sounded as if Hulia had already concluded for Karyn.

Despite Hulia's tone of finality, Karyn couldn't help but ask, "Is it possible? Will we make it?"

"You doubt yourself, girl," Hulia stopped and turned to Karyn, but unlike the steely expression she usually held, the old woman's eyes shined with solemnity. And Karyn also noticed the woman's choice not to use the hurtful term, gaiñ. "I see you. I see the aura around you. You let your mind weaken you, and you've given it more power than it should have. This place is not for us. These symbols around only take and take from us, our magic, our essence. I have only survived for as long because I chose to live in my dreams and yes, it is not a life worth living. Talk to Giliashad. He'll take you too."

"What of you? You tell me to believe, but you don't seem keen to leave."

"Oh, I am not prey to my mind. That is not what holds me back. It is my sight and what I have seen. I fear the future my eyes see. It is one I do not want to be a part of. One of endless darkness."

Hulia's words haunted her for the remaining five thousand steps and the only thing that brought her out of her thoughts were loud voices when she reached the courtyard. The mist from above, which served as their cloud and sky, illuminated the prison around. The rest of the prison was lit by tiny glowing orbs on the wall each separated from each other by an enormous distance, leaving most of their hallways dark and most of the younger prisoners vulnerable to guards who wore special glasses to aid them see.

She turned her gaze forward, her eyes landing on Giliashad, a middle-aged man with his black hair pulled back into a tight bun at the crown of his head. The rest of his scalp, shaved clean, revealed an intricate tapestry of swirling black ink that snaked down from his hairline, tracing an elaborate design over his smooth pale skin before disappearing beneath the vibrant green fabric of his prison uniform.

He was metres taller than her and even from the distance she had to tilt her head up to meet his head. She contemplated talking to him about the supposed escape and took tentative steps, but when Giliashad pushed the man in front of him to the ground and yelled at the man who seemed much older, she rushed forward.

Giliashad moved to pounce on top of the man, but she yelled at him.

Dark golden eyes met hers and the intensity in them forced her to stop, but it wasn't enough for her to discard her main purpose. Up close and with him facing her, she could see the tattoos surrounding his hair on his head more clearly, and they seemed to pulsate with a life of their own. A rhythm that left her intrigued and mesmerized.

"What are you doing?" She clenched her hands to summon courage, snapping out of the trance his tattoos created. "Can't you see he's much older than you?"

"What is age when someone isn't bein' reasonable? And what der yer know about anythin'? All yer der is jump inter fights. No wonder yer get yerself packin' shite." Giliashad's voice resounded back and around her head, scratching on her ears.

She scowled at him.

"And ye!" Giliashad pointed at the man on the floor. "If yer want to see yer family again, yer should know better than to decline our offer."

Giliashad then spat at the floor, centimeters from where the older man sat on the floor, who then dusted himself and got up as Giliashad strolled away with Karyn's eyes not leaving him.

"I didn't know I was so old," the older man said, but Karyn froze. Before she saw his face, she knew the voice. Months apart was not enough to wipe the memory of the man who she had seen as a father in the absence of her real one.

But even knowing nothing prepared her for the shock that came with seeing his face again.

"David!"

♛

ITNC: As Karyn learns about her best friend's journey, a tense showdown looms for Marcela as she faces a high-ranking member of The Red Guard.

♛

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The Sparkling Authoress,
Mis. A
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