Ashlynn draws in a breath and lets it sit in her chest before releasing it.
"Let's rest first."
"Sure."
I answer too quickly. My hand is already on the red notebook, my mind urging me to read it.
The room is dark, unused, marked by old work—torture devices fixed to the walls, dried blood sunk into the floor. We take positions without discussion. I sit on the chair where I found the notebook while Ashlynn settles near the ladder where we emerged. Riko plants himself close to the only door, his back against the metal.
Ashlynn straightens one leg, then the other, then lets her body fall backward. Her shoulders hit the brick floor with a soft thud. She turns left, then right, searching for a position that seems comfortable enough.
Riko presses his lips together. A chuckle slips out.
"Almost there," he murmurs.
I untie the liquid lantern from my waist. It's one of two light sources here. The other rests near Ashlynn's leg, its glow cutting across the floor, stopping at her boot.
After releasing a small breath, I raise my right hand and inspect it.
The object is still there. Part of it pierces through my palm. Its shape has settled—shield-like now, one edge sharpened, the other flaring toward my shoulder. It's larger than before. It occupies more of me.
I clench my left fist and strike it.
Ding.
Ding.
The sound hangs longer than it should. The metal is hard. Cold. I grip and pull. It doesn't move. The harder I pull, the more it resists, as if bracing.
"Damn it, Riko," I mutter.
I stop pulling and let my arm drop. My hand stays where it is.
Then I take the notebook and open it again.
The second page reads: no more phone, no more girls, no more fun. Just life.
The words sit there. Nothing special. I flip forward, searching.
Some pages are gibberish—drawings and writing that make no sense. The gibberish pages sit beside torn ones. Some pages describe places—their locations, their functions. Others describe individuals—their names, what they do, fragments of their stories. All of it is written in pieces. Incomplete.
Many pages remain empty.
More of the same—entries without edges, feelings without anchors. I skim faster.
Then—
Tauran City Prison.
First floor.
"Riko," I call, lifting the notebook slightly so he can see it. "This says there's a corridor out, then a hallway. We turn right after this and go straight through. Ground floor. Then—"
"To freedom," Riko says, already smiling.
"Stop giggling and rest," I tell him.
He doesn't answer. His foot taps once against the floor. Then stops.
I try to keep reading. My eyes drag. The words smear.
I close the notebook. My grip loosens.
And I let my eyes close.
—
I am swimming.
A city lies beneath me, submerged. Towers rise like mountains. Blocks break apart into shapes separated by black streets. Signs float, enormous and bright—some with faces, some blank. The city stretches farther than I can see.
I sink. My feet touch the street. Air fills my lungs. I breathe.
The water vanishes.
People appear. A metal cart rushes past me on four wheels, pulled by nothing.
Honk.
Honk.
More carts follow. I stumble sideways into the space where people walk. Someone brushes past me. Then another.
My eyes drift toward someone. Someone with a certain body frame. Familiar facial features.
He looks like me.
I follow him. Step after step. The city folds around us. At a cross-section, he turns and looks directly at me.
"Allen."
The word taps against glass.
—
"Len."
Ashlynn's voice is close. My eyes open slowly. She's the first thing I see. I try to move, but my body feels heavy, drained.
Riko straightens beside her. "To the surface," he says, already pointing upward.
I nod. Then I stand.
The notebook slips into my back pocket. I tie the liquid lantern back to my waist through the tear in my pants. Ashlynn mirrors the motion, her hands moving with practiced speed.
Riko reaches for the door.
He opens it and steps out first. We follow.
A corridor stretches ahead, like the one near our cells. Cleaner. Rows of occupied cells line both sides.
Prisoners press close to the bars. The smell is layered sweat. Faces turn. Fingers curl.
"ANOTHER ONE."
"HAIL THE EVERWATCHER!"
Laughter ripples down the corridor. We keep moving and reach the door at the end.
Ashlynn approaches it. She tests the handle first.
"It's not locked."
She opens it slowly. A hallway beyond—first floor. High ceiling. Thick pillars. Fewer lanterns, their light pooling only in the center.
She pauses, half in, half out.
"It's a bit dark. Let's try a different route." Her voice cracks. Her hands tremble.
Riko steps past her and pushes her aside.
"Don't worry," I say, though my feet don't move right away. "I read the notebook."
"Freedom ahead," Riko adds, already walking.
I hesitate long enough to feel it. The notebook weighs. The hallway makes no sound.
Then I step forward.
We enter and walk to the center of the hallway. Turn right. A cross-section opens. We stop.
An open door comes into view. Stairs rise behind it, clear.
Riko takes one step. Then another. Then his walk breaks into a run.
"Riko, wait," Ashlynn says. Her voice cracks.
We follow—but slower. Too slow.
"FREEDOOOM—"
SWING.
The motion cuts him in half. One part of his body flies forward, sliding across the floor. The other drops where he stood. Blood spreads fast. A chain hangs in the air, wet and heavy.
A warden steps into the light, holding it.
More chains move. More wardens emerge. Dozens.
They don't rush.
They were never gone.
They were watching.
They always are.