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.
The room is dark, unused, and 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. Ashlynn settles near the ladder where we emerged. Riko plants himself close to the only door, his back near the metal.
Ashlynn straightens one leg, then the other, then lets her body fall backward. Her shoulders hit the brick floor. She turns left, then right, searching for a shape that doesn't hurt. Riko presses his lips together, a sound almost like a laugh slipping out.
"Almost there," he murmurs.
I untie the 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 and stopping at her boot.
I raise my right hand.
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 strike it with my left hand.
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. Let my arm drop. My hand stays where it is.
I take the notebook and open it again.
The first page: no more phone, no more girls, no more fun, just life.
The words sit there. They don't push back. I turn pages. More of the same—entries without edges, feelings without anchors. I skim faster.
Tauran City Prison.
First floor.
"Riko," I call. I lift 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 before I realize it has.
I close my eyes.
—
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, not pulled by anything.
Honk.
Honk.
More carts follow. I stumble sideways into the space where people walk. Someone brushes past me. Then another.
I see someone who looks like me.
I follow him. Step after step. The city folds around us. At a cross section, he turns. He looks directly at me.
"Allen."
The word hits like a tap on glass.
—
"Len."
Ashlynn's voice is close. I open my eyes.
The room is the same. The lantern light hasn't moved much. My body feels heavy, still fatigued.
Riko straightens. "To freedom."
I nod. I don't trust my voice.
I slide the notebook into my back pocket. I tie the lantern back to my waist through the hole 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 the sides. Prisoners press close to the bars. The smell is sweat, old and layered. Faces turn. Fingers curl.
"ANOTHER ONE."
Laughter ripples down the corridor. We keep moving.
Ashlynn reaches the next door. She tests it.
"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," she says. Her voice cracks. "Let's try a different route."
Riko steps past her.
"Just a bit more," I say, though my feet don't move right away.
"Freedom ahead," Riko adds, already walking.
I hesitate long enough to feel it. The notebook weighs. The hallway doesn't make a sound.
Then I step forward.
We enter and walk to the middle of the hallway. Turn right. A cross section opens. We stop and look.
A door stands open. Stairs rise behind it, clear.
Riko breaks into a run.
We follow, slower. Too slow to stop him.
"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 Sounds of chain. More wardens emerge. Dozens. They don't rush.
They were never gone.
They were watching.
They always are.