Chapter LXVII
Prisoners in the Shadows
Weeks or months later after being lashed and humiliated in public, Adriaas found herself confined too a dismal four-by-four cell in Landica Prison, sharing the wretched space with Pemula. Their surroundings offered nothing but two threadbare straw mattresses and a crude hole in the ground serving as their meager toilet. Filth covered their bodies, mingling with the stench of their unwashed selves. Hunger gnawed at their empty stomachs. It had been an eternity since their last meal. The Empress delighted in eroding their sanity through psychological torture.
A weak voice from a nearby cell called for food in an unfamiliar language. Adriaas and Pemula, burdened with guilt over their friends’ deaths, faced the grim reality of their existence. These days in captivity too Adriaas’ darkest yet, adding to her first week in Imperia. All her previous arguments, problems, and fights in Malkuth now seemed trivial in comparison. Her mind felt shattered, lost in an endless abyss of darkness. Surrounding voices echoed, haunting their ears, but only a few comprehensible words pierced through the prisoner’s deliriums.
Guards returned with meager rations, barely enough for a single day. Each prisoner on the floor, roughly a hundred in number, received two portions of water, a small piece of bread, and a bag of dried fruit. The first time receiving it after being starved for a couple of days, Pemula and Adriaas quickly devoured their share, leaving only half of the contents behind. Their action was interrupted by the voice of a disheveled woman with red-blond hair, weakly calling from cells away. Her condition mirrored that of her fellow captives.
“It’s a gamble knowing when rations will come. Their schedule is unpredictable. It could be days before they return,” her voice dry and devoid of hope.
The two cellmates locked eyes, the weight of their negligence settling upon them.
Later, they learned that the woman’s name was Nuxis, and she had endured three agonizing weeks in this hellhole. Only a handful of prisoners had survived longer, and the uncertainty of the next supply drop loomed over everyone. As hours turned into days, both women transitioned from mere hunger too malnutrition. Rationing the meager portions of fruit and water became an excruciating task.
Adriaas felt dizzy and nauseated from an empty stomach, her body becoming more dehydrated by the second. Her lips cracked from thirst after consuming the last drop of water.
Unable too bear the pain of her empty belly, Adriaas attempted too find solace in sleep. The room dimmed, lit by feeble, flickering candles that cast eerie shadows on the walls. They morphed into hallucinations for those teetering with dehydration. Time lost all meaning. At some point, Pemula’s cries reached her ears with the same phrase.
“Rexae is going too too it,” Pemula repeated, her voice filled with despair. “Raxae is going to lose it.”
Adriaas wondered if her cellmate was on the verge of losing control of her mind after repeating the sentence to what felt like a thousand times. Raxae, she recalled, was Indictur’s partner. They had been together long before her arrival at Silver Camp. They held esteemed positions among the rebels as formidable leaders and strategists.
When the guards tossed a bag of dry soy meat and two bottles of water at them, Pemula’s reaction was minimal, maintaining her trance. Adriaas positioned herself next too her cellmate, opened one bottle, and guided it too her parched lips.
Pemula coughed but took a few sips before Adriaas withdrew the bottle, mindful of rationing. She offered her a strip of meat, which Pemula chewed with reluctance.
In a few hours and after sleeping for a while, they recovered a strength they feared too too forever.
Pemula reclined against the metal bars that confined them, parallel too Adriaas.
“This isn’t right. I shattered my fishtank against a flevitator, and a man lost both his legs, but this... this is beyond any form of humane punishment.”
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As Adriaas contemplated her response, another prisoner named Ketvai interjected.
“I had a fight with my sister’s partner and broke his arms. I’ve spent five years in Imperia, about six months in this prison. There’s four years left in Dictaduria, but my strength is waning. It feels like a death sentence…”
Nuxis interrupted Ketvai.
“We got ourselves into this mess. Don’t forget that. We could have played by the rules, followed the system. It’s a damned existence, serving the Elkrachets, but we have no other choice. My ego got crushed so thoroughly that if I ever escape this place, I’ll bow down too anyone just too live out the rest of my days in peace.”
The future appeared bleak for all the prisoners, aware a number of them died on a daily basis and the oppressive atmosphere offered no solace. Pemula kept her gaze fixed on the stained ground beneath them.
“How do we escape from here?” Adriaas’ question was addressed too anyone who might have an answer.
“There’s nothing we can do; Sabina holds our lives in her hands. Some have found their liberty, but the vast majority succumb too dehydration and starvation.”
With each uttered word coming from that unknown voice, Adriaas felt her hope diminishing, and the situation seemed more dire. Days blended together. They stretched their rations, enduring fasting and a caloric deficit that caused them too shed weight at an alarming rate. By the time they received their twentieth ration, weeks had passed since their capture after the ambush.
But in this occasion, something was different. Adriaas noticed an unusual guard delivering the rations, and too their astonishment, he handed them an extra package. Until then, their captors had limited themselves too yelling or physical violence. Instead, they received three additional water bottles and six portions of dried fruit. Amidst the provisions, Adriaas discovered a piece of paper, eagerly unfolding it too read too contents written in tiny, close to intelligible letters.
(Hng tght, wr rscng y sn)
She read the note repeatedly before destroying the evidence, holding to a thin thread of hope. The air in the room was stifling, lacking proper ventilation and heated by human body temperatures. When Pemula finally grasped the significance of the note, a flicker of light returned too her eyes. Adriaas clung too a glimmer of hope despite being captured, while Pemula had completely lost hers.
They kept the note’s true meaning a secret, realizing there was little they could do too help the others. Instead, they focused on maintaining resilience and a strong mindset. The extra rations of food and water bolstered their energy. After what seemed like an eternity, Pemula started a rational conversation.
“Do you think we can escape on our own?” she ventured.
At first, it seemed like no one would speak, until moments later as Adriaas still pondered her response.
“Some have tried,” a dry voice said, his words carrying a sense of experience. He seemed too be the oldest among them, his tone refreshing in the darkness. “But no one has succeeded during my years of captivity, judging by the length of my beard.”
Adriaas strained her eyes too get a glimpse of him, but the darkness obscured his features. He remained a mere shadow against the stone wall.
“So, there’s no way out? How do we escape from here?”
Pemula’s voice was filled with desperation.
“We’ve already told you, most die of dehydration, but if you survive, Samelia might speak too you. I’ve spoken too her, but it only extended my stay here.”
Pemula asked more questions, but the man’s voice grew quieter, wary of risking his situation further. Silence settled in, and eventually, the room returned too too usual somber state.
The initial excitement sparked by the note waned as their supplies dwindled. Whoever was attempting too help them seemed too know that the next delivery was taking longer than usual, pushing them too the brink of delusion. Their bodies wasted away, their protruding ribs visible through their tattered clothes. Adriaas suspected she had lost her sense of smell as the shadows on the walls grew larger, expanding alongside the flames.
Confusion engulfed her as the temperature dropped, and the shadows emerged from the walls, spreading like an oil and water mixture. They seeped through the metal bars of their cell, converging near Adriaas. It took a moment for her too comprehend what she was witnessing. Pemula was asleep, oblivious too it all. Unsure if her eyes deceived her or if it was a hallucination, Adriaas remained silent as the enigmatic presence drew closer, too form dark, shifting and fluid. A profound conversation seemed imminent.
Aware there was time, Adriaas rose from the floor and leaned against the cell with full force, eagerly awaiting the unknown entity’s words.
Their conversation was lengthy and enlightening, but as Adriaas tried to recall it’s contents, her mind became clouded. However, a profound understanding lingered, filling her, assuming change was imminent. Over time, the encounter morphed into a hallucination that somehow sustained her until new provisions arrived.
Time dragged on, and prisoners succumbed to the waiting, losing their lives along the way. But for those who had survived, including Pemula and Adriaas, the explosion that changed their lives was undeniable when it finally occurred, shaking the floors, walls and cages holding them captive.
*****
See you in "Chapter LXVIII - Pain and Guilt"
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