"The world breaks everyone, and afterward, many are strong at the broken places."
~ Ernest Hemingway
ACT 3
Chapter XVII
Six Years Ago
Year 2048
Alive. He was alive, yet he had died—thousands of times, more so. He was the Painkiller. He felt it inside of him, a part of him now. The dread and agony were one with him. The pain, once pushed away, was welcomed.
“Yoki? Hey, Yoki, come on, wake up!”
He squinted, vision blurry. Was that his mom?
“Yoki, wake up!”
He sat up straight, gasping great lungfuls of air. The air was cold, biting at his lungs, making each breath feel sharper than the last.
The room he was in was oval-shaped, with damp stone walls and a rough, uneven floor. The dim light from a flickering torch cast eerie shadows that danced across the space, giving the place an unsettling atmosphere. Stonegate. He was still at Stonegate—yes, that’s right. Their riot had failed, completely.
A man and a woman stood before him. One tall, slender man, his face stuck in a perpetual sneer. Beside him was a woman with concerned blue eyes that sparkled even in the dim light. She was enchanting.
“Hello,” he croaked, his throat dry and his voice raspy. His mouth felt like sandpaper, utterly parched. “What are you two doing here?”
They glanced at each other. Indigo shook her head at Greenfield and replied, “We are here for you, Yoki. The time has come for you to attend The Academy. But, you—” she paused briefly, a flicker of pity vanishing as quickly as it appeared, “you are coming with us. Stonegate no longer suits you; it never should have been this way from the start,” she said, looking pointedly at Greenfield.
He shrugged. “Yes, yes, I know. Yoki, you have to understand something. Indigo and I were aware of the carnage you left in your wake before finding yourself at Stonegate. The thing is, we…” He paused, searching for the right words.
Indigo stepped in, “We had concluded with The Academy’s counsel that you’d be deemed a threat at The Academy, and the agreement was one year. One year, and you were supposed to be released, and we would reevaluate your acceptance. But, there was the riot—and, well, we were told you had died.” She swallowed, looked down, then back up with a weak smile. “We found out just yesterday you were still here. Down there—” She paused again, unable to continue.
Despite the awkwardness of the conversation, Yoki’s thoughts were elsewhere. He felt he ought to be back down in the darkness, back down with the water dripping. Drip. Drip. Drip. The sound echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of his torment.
It felt abnormal being upright, standing. Speaking felt unnatural. His voice was rough from disuse.
“How long. . . how long was I down there?” he asked, his voice breaking.
“Twelve months, and a few days. It’s March. You arrived at Stonegate two Novembers back, and you were down—there, for a year. Just so you know—”
The time didn’t add up. He had lived at Stonegate for months before going to Solitary, had lived in Solitary for months, then had gotten out, living for another couple of months prior to the riot? Then, below the prison, it felt like—it had felt like decades. Each death had taken its own time, though it was a new death every drip,
drip,
drip,
And how many of those had there been? He recalled the sensation of dying so many times, he felt more comfortable being on the table than he did standing. Had he been alive longer in that torturous state for more than his life itself?
“Yoki, did you hear anything I just said? Hello.” Greenfield snapped his fingers. Yoki recoiled, hissing at him.
“Woah, take it easy, pal. You’re not down there anymore. It’s okay—”
“It’s not okay!” Indigo interrupted. “Greenfield, we talked about this yesterday! A week, most, a month at the utmost, but for an entire year? He lived through—” She looked at Yoki, realizing she hadn’t the faintest idea what he had experienced. All she knew was what she found out yesterday.
—The Day Before—
“He’s alive!”
“How could this be?”
“Outrageous! This is outrageous!”
She zoned the hullabaloo out. The repercussions for this; the rumors it’d start. Someone voiced Indigo’s thoughts, jolting her back into the ruckus.
“It’s really true! He’s the Painkiller, the prophecy wasn’t wrong! But first with Garett’s murder, next with the kid’s massacre, and now a year within the lapis cruciatus! What more is needed to be shown to us!”
“Quiet.”
The room fell silent at once, and they looked at her. Greenfield sat nearest, and she could tell from the look in his eyes that he thought she was about to make a mistake. “Sun Tzu said, ‘Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.’ We are bringing him here.” This erupted a chorus of protests. She yelled, “Silence!” The room dimmed into quiet again.
“Letting him go anywhere else, even to death, would be a waste. Think of it, that type of mental fortitude. Imagine what it could do for us Tearings. We could finish the war, once and for all. If it truly is him, if Noctisanugis blessed him with the Painkiller, we need him. He can become our ace in this war, a vital pawn that mustn’t go to waste.”
Greenfield nodded his approval. Inwardly, she relaxed. With Greenfield’s approval, the majority would agree too. The politics within The Academy’s supervising counsel was one of childish feuds, and she knew how they worked, and she knew how to get what she wanted.
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
I won’t let Garett’s boy die if I can help it, she thought.
With that, she dismissed the others, though Greenfield remained behind, as usual. She wasn’t sure what his plans were, and that troubled her the most. Greenfield’s class, having had both Nikita and Garett at the forerunners, was among the most well-known class to have ever graduated The Academy. It always struck her as odd how Greenfield remained and graduated in the middle of the class. He feigned weakness, yet upon graduating secured the most support and power out of anyone.
How long has he been plotting for?
“I’d like to address the elephant in the room, Indigo,” Greenfield began. “Classes won’t end until June, and next year’s class is. . .” His pause spoke volumes.
“I am well aware of that fact. It shouldn’t matter, the aristocratic families will not get any say in it. The politics will be troublesome, but nothing we can’t handle. Think about this, Greenfield,” she said, careful to phrase her words exactly the way she wanted him to hear her. “Yoki isn’t the Painkiller. The prophecies have been around for centuries, and they’re well known to be fiction, at best. Winston Erik Dark was never real. I’ve been around for thousands of years, and I’ve yet to encounter a Winston Erik Dark. They are fallacies. Made-up stories to a prophecy that’s inconsequential.”
She waited for his response, but he looked her over, curiously, nodded, and turned to head out. He stopped before exiting, his last words sending shivers up her spine. He knew she had lied.
“Oh, really? Strange, because I recall having met a particular fellow named just that a great many years ago.”
Her stomach dropped, but she kept her face stern. Deadpan.
“Greenfield, come now. You expect me to believe this?”
He smiled that ever-present sneer. “Yes. He and I were partners.”
—The Day Of—
Yoki’s blue eyes, which were a crimson red upon finding him in the lapis cruciatus. Well, they hadn’t found him in there; he found his way out, with her guidance. She still couldn’t believe he was alive. It wasn’t a miracle. It was a nightmare.
Greenfield’s eyes were transfixed onto Yoki’s face. His sneer was less pronounced, yet still visible upon his ovalish face. Indigo watched him carefully, eyes narrowed. He was obviously bluffing. It was such an obvious lie—but it worried her deeply. Greenfield was full of deception, but given what she had learned yesterday. . . she wasn’t so sure anymore.
“My cap,” Yoki said quietly, his voice but a murmur. Yoki looked at what Indigo held, and she came back to herself.
She smiled despite the uncertainty she felt. “Yoki, I know this might bring back bad memories, but the day you—the day your parents died—we had found your cap amidst the—we found it in the yard. I cleaned it up for you, but it still took some damage.”
She outstretched her arm, holding the worn Newsboy Cap out.
He patted his head as if confused. Then he took it from her hands, looking down on it. A second passed. A minute. A few minutes. She almost broke the silence before he said, “Thank you,” and rushed into her arms, hugging her. She was caught off guard, completely, as he began to sob uncontrollably.
“It was all my fault,” he whined, “all my fault. No! No! Shut up!” He stopped hugging her and punched himself. She was about to interfere when Greenfield held out an arm.
“No, I can’t—stop! Get out of my—no. Yes, yes! It was my fault!” He looked up, still holding his Newsboy cap. His once pitiful-looking expression was one that made her stomach turn now. He grinned madly.
He took the hat, plopped it on his head, and extended his hand. Greenfield shook it, sneer turning into a smile. “We have much to discuss, Yoki.”
Yoki smiled, outstretched his hand, but before clasping Greenfield’s own, he started choking, convulsing violently.
Greenfield looked horror-struck. She was as confused as she must’ve looked, for as he looked at her, he hid none of his own feelings. His face was flooded in worry.
“Make sure no one comes in!”
Indigo watched as Greenfield knelt beside Yoki, his hand glowing with a soft, eerie light. He pressed it to Yoki’s forehead, his eyes narrowing in concentration.
“Healing powers,” she muttered under her breath, half in awe, half in fear. Greenfield rarely showed this side of his abilities. The power to heal was rare. He was an interloper, that was common knowledge, but she had no idea he had the ability to heal. What other abilites had he kept hidden?
Yoki’s convulsions began to subside, his body relaxing as Greenfield’s power flowed through him. The glow intensified, casting strange, elongated shadows on the stone walls. Greenfield’s face was a mask of intense focus, his sneer replaced by something far more sincere.
“Stay with us, Yoki,” Greenfield murmured, his voice a strange plea. “You’re not done yet.”
Yoki’s breathing steadied, his eyes fluttering open, confusion mingling in their depths. Greenfield removed his hand, the glow fading as quickly as it had appeared. He looked exhausted but triumphant.
“Chief, chief, are you there?” Greenfield whispered quietly.
Yoki looked at him dumbly. “What happened just now?”
Greenfield wasn’t able to hide his disappointment. Indigo spotted it as clear as day. He recovered fast, sneer back onto his face. “You almost died, kid. Get up, we’re leaving now.”
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Indigo, Greenfield, and Yoki got onto the helicopter Indigo and Greenfield had arrived on.
“Yoki,” she began, “you are to take some time off. I can’t imagine what you underwent, so, we are going to give you some months to recover, and then you are to attend The Academy, as you had originally planned. How does that sound?”
He considered this. She worried he’d say no, but after adjusting his hat, he said, “Thank you. I need some time to myself—to get away from all this. Where will I be?”
“You’re going to a specially assigned apartment where you’ll be safe. You may come and go as you like, but you ought to take some time off,” Greenfield responded for her.
Yoki nodded and glanced out the helicopter. Indigo took this as another time to glance back at Greenfield. What he had said yesterday, it still troubled her deeply. She trusted Greenfield to a point; they had been colleagues for decades now. But, things were changing, and not in a good way. Again, she worried what his plans were. His objectives were never clear to her, and they never made any sense in the beginning, until later on they did. But the way he had treated Yoki before the convulsion—she knew what it could mean. She remembered the conversation she had with Greenfield the day prior.
He and I were partners.
She wasn’t sure why, but she knew that it wasn’t a lie. Greenfield, for all he looked, was no ordinary Tearing. He wasn’t just some average alumnus of The Academy who came into power with luck. No—he was a schemer. And the past conversation gave her more worries about it than she had had in a long, long time.
—The Night Before—
Indigo sat alone in her dimly lit study, the weight of her thoughts pressing heavily on her shoulders. She stared at the flickering candlelight, her mind replaying the conversation with Greenfield. His claim about meeting Winston Erik Dark gnawed at her.
If he truly had met Winston Erik Dark, what did that mean for the prophecy? Was Yoki truly the Painkiller? And if so, what role would he play in the looming conflict?
Her eyes drifted to the ancient tomes lining the shelves, their spines worn and titles faded. She reached for one, the leather binding cold and familiar under her fingertips. She had read these prophecies countless times, dismissing them as myths. But now, doubt crept into her thoughts.
Greenfield's words echoed in her mind: "He and I were partners."
A shiver ran down her spine. Greenfield was a master manipulator, a man who thrived on secrets and deception. Yet, there was something about his demeanor that night, a sincerity she couldn't ignore. She needed to uncover the truth,.
—The Day Of—
As the helicopter ascended, the landscape of Stonegate shrinking below them, Yoki stared out the window, lost in thought. The rhythmic thrum of the blades was almost soothing, a stark contrast to the chaos that had enveloped his life.
Indigo watched him carefully, noting the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers gripped the armrest. He had been through unimaginable torment, and it would take time for him to heal, both physically and mentally.
"Yoki," she said gently, breaking the silence. "You're not alone in this. We will support you every step of the way."
Yoki turned to her, his expression one of gratitude. "Thank you," he said softly. "I just need some time to figure things out."
"We understand," Indigo replied, her voice compassionate. "Take all the time you need."
As the helicopter sped towards their destination, Greenfield looked so impassive as to have seemed otherwise lifeless. Indigo couldn't shake the feeling that beneath that mask of indifference, he was plotting his next move. She would have to stay vigilant, for Yoki's sake and for the future of all Tearings.