Life in prison was less mundane than I expected it to be.

When active, there was always someone to argue against, and some stories to hear about. Gory and disturbing, sure, but in my head I thought of them as movies I used to watch. Just for the fun of it.

The fact that I couldn’t see anyone, except the usual guards, from my cell, probably helped. The guy to my right cell was especially enthusiastic about his ‘experiments’.

I’ve only been here for one day at max, and I already know which part bleeds the most when cut open. So thank you Bri, yes that’s what he called himself, for that.

Through my talks with him, I also figured out how they have managed to keep all these Artists locked here. And the answer blew my mind. Tattoos!

‘My wife is gonna be so mad that I got a tattoo.’ I mused as I barely noticed the tattoo around my shoulder blades. It looked a little like a black wing cut at its base. I wondered if it symbolized the lack of freedom, but I couldn’t be sure.

But despite the lack of any substantial answer, the tattoo intrigued me. This was the um, …. fourth, no counting Bri makes fifth, specialty he has seen this far. I wondered if the aurora of Father Agak should be counted as part of landscape.

‘ But the demonstration with the ring doesn’t match it, so I guess I’ll count it as Landscape for now.

‘So till now, there are:-

1. Landscape; of mine and Father Agak's,

2. Point Art; of the uh I forgot his name…. the military guy,

3. Perspective; of the warden,

4. Analytical Cubism; of Bri, and

5. Tattoo art; of some unknown high-level Artist

’Except Father Agak and me, I wonder how many of them know about the Path of Questions.’ I wondered. I knew the military guy at least didn’t. And neither did Bri seem like he knew about it when I tried probing him.

‘Well, I can understand Bri I guess. He was just a villager before he awakened and never actually must’ve met someone to explain this kinda stuff to him.

‘Wait, how did he learn even this much? Is he a genius?’ I wondered. Maybe all those experiments had some brain behind them.

So that leaves the warden and the tattoo artist.

‘I bet at least the tattoo artist knows it.’ My logic being someone who could seal away the powers of so many Artists at the same time has to be a high-level guy himself.

Anyway, the guards were here. Some hours ago when I was chatting with Bri about his dreams of becoming the most successful doctor of all time. For a madman, he certainly had lofty and sane dreams. I prayed internally for the first patient this madman gets his hands on.

The guards had barged into my cell, three men of high stature and long faces sporting a nasty grin and spears, and ropes in their hands. They circled me and to my credit, I had neither flinched nor begged for mercy.

They had started slowly, merely tying my hands over my head, to which I promptly called them perverts (like who really starts like that!!), but that really terrified me. I was not scared of some pain but….

Thankfully they were much decent men and were satisfied with skinning me, gutting me, poking a knife into my eye and nails (I really cried at that. That was a real bitch I swear to god!), and burning my palms till the bubbles showed up. Happy little time as I said.

Throughout the torture, I memorized their faces clearly. Every telltale on their bodies I could find, their laughter, their pitch, their movement. I believed I could recognize their footsteps too.

I’m not a cruel person, but something about revenge tasted very sweet and I would not skim on some self-care. The day of revenge would be my cheat day, and I’m gonna savor it.

They only stopped when a bunch of bald-headed white coats arrived with their notepads and chairs and sat in front of me. The warden too came and just like yesterday, put everyone through a dark ride of silence.

I woke up a few minutes ago to find my cell clean of all the blood and myself feeling completely healed and fresh. No one stood outside the cell and I was finally left alone.

“You - there mate - alive?” Bri asked.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Yes Bri, just a little tired.”

“The warden - a number - really did - on you, huh?” Bri laughed as he said that.

“Yes, you can say that. I swear to you Bri, that guy. That guy is not walking alive for long when I leave this place.” I too chuckled as I said that. I suddenly realized that maybe I had talked a little too much to Bri for me to be thinking about murder in the first thing.

“Oh oh oh - on you - can I experiment- before you die?? A live Artist - best patient - would make the!” Bri said, very excited.

“Why do you expect me to die?” I asked.

“ ‘Cause you - him - can’t beat?” He asked and I imagined if thought I was an idiot for even asking that.

“Why can’t I beat him? Maybe not now, but certainly sometime later.” I returned.

“No no no - beat him - you can’t. He’s one of Them!” That was the first full sentence I heard of him and it instantly thrilled me. What could make him say something straightly?

“Who’s ‘Them’?? I inquired.

“‘Them’ are - ones - the talented. Mysterious Artists. They are - things one - capable of - can’t imagine. You stay - enough - here long - and you start - about them - hearing stories. Things one - normally - isn’t capable of.

“Some guy - spoke of - once - how he faced a - who can create pressure - landscape specialist - and also manipulate water. Spooked - guy - the little. He came - several broken bones - here with.”

‘Is he talking about the Path of Questions? So the warden knows about it too? But is that how strong someone can be, to be creating pressure? How do they even do it?’ A maelstrom of questions swirled in my brain as I imagined the limitless future awaiting me.

“Did they say anything about ’Them’?” I pushed for more.

“Hehehe hohoho do you think you’re one of them, boy?” The guy to my left cell snickered as I remembered he existed too.

“Heh, if idiots like you could become Artists, then I most certainly can be a genius.” I retorted.

“Hahahah,” he laughed, as if hearing the best joke ever “I like it boy, I like it. You are definitely not one. Definitely not, definitely not.”

“Why do you say so?”

“You don’t have their nature boy, hihihi. They carry an aura of scholarly around them, a look in their eye as if asking about the existence of nature itself haha. Such bullshit I say. Such bullshit.”

’So Path of Questions indeed. What do you call them? Questioners? Students?’ I wondered as I muted the laughing bastard who kept laughing for some reason.

- - - * - - -

It was another food shift later, the basic unit of time in prison, that I finally heard some news about the outside world. It was just snippets of a conversation between two passing guards, but it was truly a shock.

The Viscount has established a state of emergency!

It was unprecedented and only established a few times in the past. As far as I can remember, the last times were back when the empire was still at war back in the early 3rd era and during the civil war in the late 3rd era.

We were currently a thousand years into the 4th era and the fact that an emergency was deemed necessary now of all times was enough to tell me how seriously the council took the invisible wall.

The face of the man behind the wall suddenly filled my vision and with dread, I wondered if he had any role in this state of emergency. He looked powerful. He felt powerful. I could only imagine how much can anyone do if he decided to go against us.

Quickly word got around and the prison was sent into an uproar. The warden had to make extra rounds to ‘pacify’ people. It felt like everyone was extra motivated to leave their prisons. They reminded me of birds who escape sensing calamity.

And calamity struck much too quickly.

A loud explosion followed by an unprecedented earthquake shook the earth. Dust rolled through the air as stones cracked and the lanterns lighting the hall extinguished leaving the place in a state of darkness.

We waited with bated breaths, listening for movement. Guards rustled and ran towards the exit on the upper floors as the footsteps echoed through the hall.

We waited and waited. The building was completely silent and we feared if the warden had already disposed of the intruder. A lump in all our throats as we waited.

And then he appeared. He appeared all of a sudden in the middle of the hall as he floated there, a cloak hiding his face and figure. He bought with himself bright lashes of electricity as the hall brightened.

He appeared with a headache, and increasing anxiety as our heart rates quickened. Our steps faltered as we fell down paralysed, unable to move.

I looked at the man, disbelief in my eyes as he waved his hands and my vision darkened. My body was ripped apart and disintegrated. The next moment I opened my eyes I fell on my knees puking as nausea and amazement spread through me.

I sat outside my cell.

I looked around me and everyone was out of their cells, I saw their faces for the first time and all of them had puked just like I did. Maybe it was the nausea or the fact we basically died before being reborn somehow that invoked the reaction. I would never know.

We all stared at the man, his presence demanding all our attention. He shone so bright, like a beacon of hope within this pit. I suddenly realized my intuition was back. The mist of luck I had discovered around me back in the borders was back.

And it whispered in my ears, that the man in front of me was not after us. He’s luck, they sang.

And the next moment he dropped something. A head, as it squelched and splattered blood on the floor as it landed. We all looked closely, and the big wide eyes caught my attention. Those black irises…

We suddenly realized the man was no longer there. The torches which had fallen, were back at their place and we suddenly escaped our stupor. All the awe and amazement in our eyes gone as only one thought echoed.

‘Freedom!’

- - - - * - - - -