The Back Corridors – Maintenance Archive
Silas's breathing was heavy and ragged. Every step required double the effort, not just from fatigue, but because Elyra—the woman who, minutes ago, was slicing through steel like butter—was now a limp, heavy weight leaning entirely on him.
"I'm scared..." Elyra whispered, her voice trembling. Her eyes darted around the darkness with childish terror. "It's dark... and you... you smell like blood."
"The blood isn't mine, it's motor oil," Silas replied, trying to sound cheerful, but his voice cracked with exhaustion. "Poggles, light. But keep it dim. We don't want to become a target."
The mechanical lemur hopped onto Silas's head, his eyes turning into two small flashlights emitting a faint red glow.
The light revealed a rusted iron door marked: Records Room – Authorized Personnel Only.
"Here," Silas kicked the door open and stumbled inside, then slammed it shut and slid the heavy bolt.
The room was filled with stacked file cabinets and old pneumatic tubes used for messaging. Silas gently placed Elyra on an old wooden crate, then collapsed sitting in front of her.
Elyra looked at him. There was no trace of the warrior in her face. She looked at him like a stranger who might hurt her. She scooted back until her spine hit the wall.
"Who are you?" she asked, tears pooling in her dull eyes. "I want to go home. I don't know where I am."
From his inner coat pocket, Silas pulled out the Anchor Log. The book's cover felt warm and familiar.
"We are home, Elyra. Or at least... we are on our way there."
"You're lying!" she shouted with a choked voice.
Silas sighed. He knew logic was useless against the "Mist of Oblivion." The gas she inhaled was potent; it had reset her to zero.
He opened the book. He flipped through the worn pages quickly until he reached Page 30.
"Just listen to me," Silas said in a melodic, calm voice—the "Narrator's" voice that her body's cells were used to, even if her mind had forgotten. "I'm going to read you a story. If you don't like it, I'll let you go."
Elyra stopped crying and looked at him hesitantly. "A story?"
Silas began to read:
"Day Seventy. The Raining Sea.
The sky was raining small silver fish instead of water. A rare phenomenon that hadn't happened in a century. I was trying to catch one for dinner, but I slipped and nearly fell off the ship.
A strong hand caught me. It was Elyra's hand.
She laughed out loud, a sound like wind chimes, and said to me: ('You clumsy writer, if you fall, who will tell the world that I saved you?').
That day, we sat watching the glowing fish swim in the air around us, sharing a piece of stale bread as if it were a king's feast. She told me she didn't remember her childhood, but she hoped her future would be as bright as those fish."
Silas stopped reading. He lifted his eyes to look at her.
Elyra was staring at him, her mouth slightly open. The terror in her eyes had vanished, replaced by a strange calm. The tears of fear had turned into tears of emotion.
She didn't remember the incident fully, but the feeling returned. The feeling of safety. The feeling of laughter.
She reached out a trembling hand and touched the book's cover.
"Your voice..." she whispered. "I know this voice. It's the voice that chases away nightmares."
Silas closed the book and placed it in her hand. "I am Silas. And I will never let you fall off the ship."
Elyra nodded slowly. She wasn't the fierce warrior yet, but she was no longer the terrified girl.
"Okay, Silas. I believe you."
In that intimate moment, Poggles interrupted:
"Ahem! Ahem! Sorry to ruin the romantic moment! But look what I found!"
The lemur was digging through one of the open archive drawers and pulled out a large blue map.
Silas stood up and approached him. "What is this?"
"Shipping map!" Poggles pointed with his small claw. "Look! The Blue Fuel they extract here... it isn't stored. It's shipped immediately to one location."
Silas traced the line drawn on the map. The line ended at an island drawn in black in the middle of the sea.
Silas read the name written next to the black island, and felt a chill run down his spine.
"The Island of (Hollow Echo)..." Silas read. "But this island doesn't exist on official maps. It supposedly sank fifty years ago."
"It exists," Elyra said suddenly.
Silas turned to her. She was pressing her temples hard.
"I... I saw that name in a nightmare. A tall tower... a clock ticking backwards... and a man who has your face, Silas, but wears a crown of iron."
Silas froze. "My face?"
Before he could clarify, the room's ceiling shook. Dust scattered over their heads.
The sound of heavy, metallic footsteps was approaching the outer corridor.
"They found us," Silas whispered. He retrieved his cane but looked at Elyra with concern. She couldn't fight now.
"Poggles," Silas ordered. "Is there a vent in this room?"
"There is! Behind that cabinet! But it's tight! And dark! And probably full of spiders!"
"Doesn't matter. We crawl."
Silas pushed the heavy cabinet to reveal a narrow ventilation shaft. "Elyra, first. Poggles, second. I'll cover the rear."
Elyra looked at him anxiously. "You'll follow?"
"Always," Silas smiled. "We have a story we haven't finished yet."
As soon as Elyra and Poggles entered the shaft, Silas pulled a small smoke bomb from his belt and hung it on the door handle.
"Come on, you dolls," he whispered, crawling into the dark tunnel. "We have a date at the Black Island."