A gasp forced air into his lungs as his eyes snapped open. His face was pressed against the stone floor beneath him, resting beside a puddle of crimson he soon realized had come from his mouth. Swallowing, he rolled over onto his side as a spasm of pain wracked his body, echoing through his limbs and pounding with every beat of his heart.

The Dravara had come, he remembered that much, but his memory was hazy, missing important pieces and leaving behind a slurry of confused thoughts. A cough stirred in his chest as he pushed himself up on an elbow and then the rest of the way to sit on the floor. His head was spinning and the side of his face throbbed where he vaguely remembered being struck.

There was a pain in his ribs, aching and dull but increasing the moment he tried getting to his feet, it only grew worse. He winced, tasting blood on his tongue as he fell back against the wall again, knee wobbling beneath him. He slid back down, eyes closing.

“Rory?”

It took a moment for the voice to register. Aurora squinted, looking out into the darkness and seeing nothing at first but a crumpled pile in the shadows. It was only when it moved that Aurora’s mind snapped back to the memory of what happened.

“Lucius?”

Aurora pushed himself up, stumbling towards the bars that separated the two and coming only a few steps away before his legs gave out beneath him. He half caught himself, reaching out for the bars before his face could crash into the metal or the stone beneath him.

“Shit, Lucius, can you hear me?”

He let go, lowering himself to the ground and pulling a hand away from his side to reach through the bars. Lucius looked up at him, blood staining the boy’s mouth and dripping down between his eyes from the gash in his forehead.

“I’m…so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You did nothing wrong. This is my fault,” Aurora croaked, swallowing harshly at the taste of blood in his mouth.

“I got us in trouble.”

“I threw the bowl,” he paused, coughing again. “I started it. Do you really think I care about getting in trouble? Trouble is my middle name.”

“No, it’s not,” Lucius replied distantly, eyes staring off into nothingness before they fluttered closed.

Aurora pulled himself further forward, biting his lip to avoid crying out. “You’re going to be alright, Lucius. Can you take my hand? We are going to make it out of this, alright?”

“No.”

“Lucius, what’s your full name? Mine is Evander Trouble Kallieon. I told you it was my middle name, didn’t I?” Aurora called, trying to get his voice above a whisper.

“Your name is Rory…not Evander. Lucius Crowswood is my name,” Lucius muttered, eyes cracking open to look at him. “Why?”

“Aurora isn’t my real name but swear to me you won’t tell. I haven’t told anyone, not even Daniel, and only my brother knows. Have I told you about Silas?”

Lucius hummed softly. “I’m tired. Tell me…tell me later.”

“Look at me, Lucius. Open your eyes. I need you to keep me awake, understand?”

The stable boy reached for him, taking his hand finally and shaking his head. His teeth clamped together, an outcry slipping between clenched teeth as his hand held tightly to Aurora’s. It passed with a whimper, grip going limp in Aurora’s hand.

“Lucius, I’m tired too but I need you to keep me from falling asleep. It’s better for both of us if we just stay awake, alright?”

“I can’t-“

“Can you tell me what color my hair is, Lucius? I think I’ve forgotten.”

The boy frowned, squinting. “Brown…I think.”

“Is it long? It has to be longer by now,” Aurora added, flicking a strand back from in front of his eyes.

Lucius nodded. “It…it is.”

“And my eyes, what color are they?”

“Too many colors,” Lucius laughed, breaking off coughing. “I dunno.”

“Neither do I,” Aurora chuckled meekly. “Lucius, keep me awake, alright?”

Lucius’ eyes opened, the clouded weakness in his gaze disappearing for half a second as he smiled. “Why?”

“Tell me to keep my eyes on you.”

“Why-“

Aurora swallowed, squeezing his hand. “Please, just do it.”

“Keep your eyes on me,” Lucius wheezed.

“Good.” Aurora smiled. “We are going to be just fine.”

A ragged cough.

“Do you remember when I told you…about hope?”

Aurora nodded his head. “Of course-“

“Don’t stop fighting, okay?”

“I won’t. I promise you. Everything is going to be alright and they will rue the day they locked us in here,” Aurora said, trying once more to smile.

“Just…don’t leave me, please. I’m scared,” Lucius replied softly, voice growing fainter with every word.

Aurora gripped his hand tighter. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re alright, Lucius.”

His breath came slowly, raggedly as his gaze dropped and he went to staring off into the darkness once more. Aurora found no words to say, no pleads for him to stay awake, were still left in his body. He closed his eyes, belly on the cold floor and head dropping forward against his arm.

For the longest time he waited for something, some brilliance that would chase away the shadows, something to intervene, an impossibility he knew would never come. Instead, things only ended quietly.

“Lucius?”

Silence.

He wanted to feel sad and even angry for what happened but Aurora found he felt nothing at all. Numbness unlike anything he’d felt before had descended down and he couldn’t bring himself to move away from his spot on the floor. There was no point in moving when his legs refused to hold his weight and even if they could, he wouldn’t.

From outside the walls of the cell, he heard the rolls of thunder returning. It would rain but Aurora would feel nothing of the cold chill that came along with the wind or the drops of rain. He was stuck, once again alone, in the one place where nothing, not even death, could touch him.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out.

Aurora understood why she hadn’t tortured him by typical means of suffering. There was no need, no point, in adding to the pain that burned cold in his chest. Guilt was worse than any pain she could inflict, cutting deeper than any knife ever could.

Thunder rolled once more outside but Aurora didn’t look up, tears still leaking out through tightly closed eye. He was still save for the stifled sobs escaping his throat. And in his silence, every shred of hope disappeared until it became as nonexistent as his belief it was possible to escape the prison he’d created.

Three months had passed since the last time he’d spoken to anyone and three months had passed since the night Lucius died. Aurora felt sick. His sickness, however, wasn’t something that could be cured, killing him slowly and more painfully than he ever thought possible.

If he didn’t know better, he would have thought the Dravara sent down to bring him food or water pitied him. They brought bread, cheese with the mold carefully carved out of it, and once he’d even been brought stew. He couldn’t bring himself to eat more than what would take away the sharp pangs of hunger or the ceaseless pounding in his head.

At times, even that was too much.

The door opened across the room, washing light across the floor and a face that hadn’t seen it in days. Heels clicked across the stone, pausing at the door as the groan of a lock echoed out through the darkness. He didn’t move, eyes still staring up at the crack in the ceiling, until the figure came to kneel down at his side.

“Aurora?”

He blinked then, recognizing the voice.

“You don’t look well.”

“Should I?” he croaked hoarsely.

“No, I didn’t expect you to. I won’t trouble you for long, but you should be proud.”

Silence.

“I didn’t expect you to last this long. Do you know why?”

“No.”

“I really wish you would respond but I see you are in no mood to chat. You have never been one for casual conversations, but I see a change in you. You’re weakened, no longer hiding behind that guise we both know was never truly you, but I’m not here for that. I have something to ask of you,” she hummed, smiling still.

“Ask then.”

Weak, that’s how his voice sounded. He couldn’t bring himself to steady his voice, to keep it from sounding like every word was spoken in a dying man’s final rattle. That was his voice and that was how he was doomed to sound until inevitably the prison would kill him.

“Really? You aren’t going to fight me, are you? I must say, I’m shocked. Something is very wrong with you, but my question is simple enough for you to handle even in this state. Do you know what my question is, Aurora?” she asked, smiling as she reached up to turn his face towards her.

“You asked me a question already. I thought you only had one,” he muttered, eyes avoiding the ice in her gaze.

Her lips pursed. “Perhaps you haven’t changed as much as I thought. You are still yourself, aren’t you?”

“Four questions.”

She sneered, smile tightening dangerously. “My final question is-“

“I already know what it is.”

Rowena chuckled. “I assumed you would.”

Aurora only shook his head, pulling away gently from her hand and staring off towards the door. She wasn’t armed from what he could tell and the door had been left wide open. He couldn’t bring himself to stand even if his legs had the strength, couldn’t bring himself to flee knowing that the weight of the guilt on his conscious would kill him even if he tried.

“Well?”

“You are going to ask me if I give up, submit to the Dravara, correct?” he asked, eyes closing.

She snapped her fingers and he begrudgingly opened them again as Rowena turned his face towards her once more. “That is exactly what I’m asking you. I know you’re defeated, Aurora. Wouldn’t you rather get out of this place? I can set you free.”

“And I could kill you but I lack the strength. We both know you don’t plan on letting me out of here. Or will you set me free like you did to Lucius?”

“A terrible accident is all that was. I didn’t intend the boy to die-“

“That tends to happen when you let sepsis set in and then beat someone half to death,” he grumbled, hating how soft his voice sounded. “They die.”

Rowena sighed, getting to her feet as his eyes returned to the ceiling once more.

“Was he given a proper burial?” Aurora croaked.

She was quiet.

“That’s low,” he hissed, “even for you.”

“It’s none of your business. What happened to him is between me, myself,” she paused, voice lowering, “and the wolves.”

He wanted to be angry, wanted to scream and stagger to his feet one last time like Lucius had done, but there was no strength for that. Instead, he could only stare, hope that for once she would feel something, even if it was just pity for a miserable man. Some hellish part of him smiled, cracked so far that it was the only thing he could bring himself to do.

“Why are you smiling, Aurora? You’re finish-“

“You hate it when I do, don’t you? It makes you feel like you can’t win.”

A sigh.

“I’m asking you one more time. Will you take my offer or not? You would have to be even more of a fool than I thought to reject it.”

Aurora didn’t answer right away, smile fading from his lips. He’d die if he rejected but death was beginning to feel better than the suffering still festering in his head. But rejecting would mean keeping a promise he’d made to Silas and to Lucius. Taking her offer would be watching an entire species fall into extinction.

He couldn’t do it.

“You know my answer. Stop wasting your time.”

“I won’t be coming again. You are going to regret this the moment I step out that door-“

“You can threaten me all you want. Kill me if you want, break my will. No matter what you do, I won’t ever be yours. I made a promise to that stable boy and I intend on keeping it. Do you know what I swore to him?”

Rowena snorted, turning to walk away. “I don’t care. He’s dead and the dead don’t care if promises are kept. You sound like a child, Aurora.”

Aurora sat up slowly, staggering to his feet with head swimming as he tried to stay upright. Legs shaking, he followed after her as the door slammed in front of him. He nearly collapsed against the bars, teeth baring as she narrowed her eyes.

“I swore to him I’d put a bullet in you. I keep my promises.”

Her smile stayed.

“Not if you die here. Goodbye, Aurora. And I am saying that for the very last time.”

A month had gone since Rowena had come to the darkness of the prison but Aurora was barely even aware that days had gone by. Time blurred together and he didn’t know if it had been a span of a few weeks or three years he was there. His strength had faded and his legs no longer held his weight at all.

The day was different, colder.

But even with the returning chill in the air, he barely felt the change in temperature with his back against the stone floor that still felt the same. Beside him sat an untouched glass of water and a bundle of food they had brought for him days ago. The rats must have gotten to it, he assumed and he heard them faintly from time to time. However, they seemed more interested in him some days and he was only able to feebly swat them away, not before occasionally receiving a nip. It was better to leave them the food, he decided.

The thought of eating made him feel even sicker than he already did.

He was in a daze, fading in and out of consciousness, and had been that way ever since she left. It was easier to keep his eyes shut and wait for something to drag him under again than deal with his memories blurring with reality. Opening them only resulted in hallucinations far too vivid for him to handle without his mind kicking into a state of panic.

A horn cut thought the silence.

It wasn’t truly there, he told himself. His mind was playing tricks on him and had been ever since she’d left him on his own. There was no reality aside from the stone at his back and the darkness that, if anything, was the one consistent thing he could count on. But then came the gunshots, thundering in his head and leaving him wincing even if they still sounded distant.

Voices.

Shouting.

It was all too loud.

Some instinct, one that was shoved too far back behind others, screamed for him to open his eyes but Aurora didn’t have the strength to try. The gunshots melded with something else, a roaring forming where silence should have been. It was better in the silence, easier to handle when his mind wasn’t fabricating illusions he was too weak to fight.

The door opened.

Shuffling, soft unlike the harsh striking of her heels, came as something move across the floor towards him. A loud clang sounded as the door to his prison was torn away, falling with a crash and a groan as it hit the stone. His eyes cracked open for the first time but everything was blurred, distorted and warped beyond recognition. A figure, large and hulking in the shadows, was the one thing he could see for certain.

Eyes, cracked and spiraled like shattered ice, was the last thing he saw before everything faded.

Next Chapter: Chapter 28