The prison was alive with noise, yet dead in spirit.Metal doors clanged as guards made their rounds, boots echoing across the concrete floor. From somewhere down the hall came the muffled shouts of an argument—two inmates snarling over a debt that would likely end in blood. Fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above, their harsh glare bathing the block in a sickly, yellowish hue that made time blur together. Morning, noon, and night felt the same here. Days stacked into each other until the concept of hours no longer mattered.
Inside one of the narrow cells, a teenager lay crumpled on the cold floor. Bruises blossomed purple across his jaw and ribs, evidence of yet another fight. He had given as good as he got, but the numbers always stacked against him.
Jason had learned quickly that in prison, you were either predator or prey—and without allies, even the strongest eventually fell.
With a groan, Jason forced himself upright. Every muscle protested, his body stiff with pain, but he refused to stay down. He dragged himself onto the thin mattress, perching on the edge of the bed, his chest heaving.
His eyes bloodshot and weary were not filled with despair. No, despair was for the broken, for those who had accepted this cage as their grave. Jason's eyes burned with something colder, sharper. A quiet fury simmered beneath his skin, not the wild rage of a reckless youth, but a steady flame that refused to die.
It wasn't explosive, but it was constant.
As Jason sat there, fighting the tremor in his legs, his hand brushed something unusual beneath the thin mattress. The bed here was little more than a metal slab with worn fabric stretched over it. There shouldn't have been anything hidden underneath. Frowning, he shifted the mattress aside.
Something metallic pressed against his palm.
Jason pulled it free—and froze.
It was a key.Not the dull brass or stainless steel of a normal lock, but something… different. Ancient.
The shaft was forged of black iron, yet its surface gleamed faintly as though veins of red light pulsed within it. Jagged etchings spiraled down its length, forming patterns Jason didn't recognize but that made his skin prickle when he stared too long. The bow of the key, instead of a simple loop, was shaped like an eye—hollow in the middle, but unnervingly sharp at its edges.
It felt heavy. Too heavy for an object its size, as though it was weighted with something more than metal.
Jason's first instinct was suspicion. Contraband was impossible here—guards checked every inch of the cells, prisoners stripped of belongings at intake. So how in hell did this end up under his mattress?
And why did it feel like it was waiting for him?
Whispers crawled at the edges of his hearing, faint as though carried from miles away. The words weren't clear, but the cadence was undeniable—low, coaxing, calling. His heartbeat quickened, a rush of adrenaline cutting through the ache in his body.
Jason swallowed, jaw tightening. "...What the hell?"
Before he realized what he was doing, his body was already moving. His fingers tightened around the key, and in one smooth motion, he shoved it into the lock of his cell door.
For a moment, nothing happened.
The whispers faded. The prison sounds returned—the yelling, the clanging, the buzzing lights. Jason almost laughed at himself, half-convinced this was the result of a concussion. Maybe he'd finally snapped.
Then—
Click.
The tumblers inside the lock shifted with a sound too deep, too resonant for such a simple mechanism. The cell door groaned, then swung inward—not into the prison corridor, but into a blinding white expanse.
Jason flinched, raising a hand to shield his eyes. The light wasn't harsh, but it was pure, so pure it seemed to strip the world of shadows. Slowly, his vision adjusted.
What he saw wasn't a corridor.It wasn't anything like the prison.
It was… a room.
The walls were seamless and white, stretching endlessly, giving no hint of corners or ceiling. The air felt still, too still, pressing down in a silence so absolute it made Jason's ears ring. In the centre of the room, suspended above the ground, hovered a crystal the size of a man's torso. Its surface was a deep, translucent red, glowing faintly as though fire burned at its core.
Jason's breath caught. He stepped forward on instinct, then froze as a sound broke the silence behind him—
The door.
He spun around just in time to see the prison door slam shut.
"No, no, no " Jason lunged, but too late. The door was gone. Not closed, not locked gone. The wall behind him was now the same endless white as the rest of the chamber.
His heart pounded, faster and faster, sweat beading on his brow. Panic clawed at his chest. He was trapped. Trapped in a place that shouldn't exist.
Jason forced himself to breathe, but his body wasn't listening. His pulse hammered against his skull.
Then—
"Boo."
The single word cut through the silence like a knife.
Jason's heart nearly jumped out of his chest. He physically did jump, stumbling backward and collapsing onto the floor with a pained grunt. His ribs screamed, his body betraying him.
Laughter filled the room. Low at first, then rising, rich and amused.
Jason's head whipped toward the sound.
There—standing not far from the hovering crystal—was a man. He hadn't been there a moment ago.
He wore a dark suit, crisp and perfectly tailored, paired with polished black shoes that gleamed despite the emptiness of the floor. His hair was slicked back neatly, his features sharp, elegant even—but there was a strange weight to him, an aura that unsettled Jason's instincts. Like a predator smiling politely at its prey.
Most unsettling of all were his eyes—calm, ancient, as though they'd seen far too much.
The man adjusted his cufflinks with a casual grace, then looked at Jason. His lips curved into a smile that was equal parts charm and menace.
"Well," the stranger said softly, voice carrying effortlessly in the white void. "It seems my investment has finally arrived."