Skye sat quietly in the back of the sandrover as Jaylon tore across Gehanna’s unforgiving landscape. The roar of the engine and the biting wind made conversation nearly impossible, but Jaylon didn’t seem to mind.

He hadn’t revealed much about his plan—only that he wanted to escape, that he wanted to be free, and that somehow, Skye would play a crucial role in making that happen.

“I can’t control my powers!” Skye shouted over the wind, his voice raw with frustration. “So whatever you’re thinking—”

“You’ll learn to,” Jaylon interrupted, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you’ll die along with everyone else in The Structure.” Jaylon’s voice was calm, almost casual, as if they were discussing weather patterns over tea instead of impending doom.

Skye’s stomach tightened. “Maybe I could be more helpful if you actually told me what the plan is.”

Jaylon let out a soft chuckle, shaking a gloved finger in the air. “The plan’s simple enough in theory, kid. The hard part is pulling it off. That’s where I’m counting on you.”

The sandrover skidded to a halt atop a massive dune, the sand cascading down its steep face in rippling waves. Below, partially buried in the golden expanse, was an enormous circular stone opening carved with strange, angular symbols.

“There’s someone we need,” Jaylon said, nodding toward the gaping maw below. “They’re down there.”

Skye squinted at the ominous opening. “Someone? You mean… a prisoner?”

Jaylon flashed a toothy grin, his burnt lips curling at the edges. “That’s right, kid. Cell 2135. Your job’s simple: go down there, find the prisoner, and bring them back safe and sound.”

“Wait, you said this whole world is a prison. Why is there… a prison inside a prison?”

“It’s a prison within a prison within a nightmare,” Jaylon said, leaning back against the sandrover’s frame. “And the people locked away down there? They’re not just prisoners—they’re monsters. The worst of the worst. People so dangerous they make me look like a choir boy.”

There was a flicker of something in Jaylon’s eyes—amusement, perhaps? A glint of genuine excitement.

Skye stared at the stone opening, dread pooling in his gut.

This man has truly lost it.

“Everyone down there is locked up. Just head in, use this to unlock the cell, and bring the prisoner back. Simple.” Jaylon handed Skye a small, metallic device—sleek and cold to the touch. Skye assumed it was the key to the cell.

“If it’s so simple, why don’t you do it?” Skye asked, suspicion etched across his face.

Jaylon pointed toward the mouth of the stone prison. For a brief moment, the air shimmered—like heat rising off metal.

“That’s a DNA scanner,” Jaylon explained, his voice unusually flat. “I’m flagged. If I cross that threshold, the barrier will melt my bones before I can take two steps.”

He handed Skye a small metallic syringe. Its surface gleamed in the harsh sunlight.

“Once you’ve unlocked the cell, inject the prisoner with this. It’ll let them bypass the barrier safely.”

Jaylon gave Skye a firm slap on the shoulder, his grin wide and almost fatherly. “See? A simple retrieval mission.”

“And if it becomes… not simple?” Skye asked cautiously.

Jaylon’s smile faded, replaced by a cold, piercing stare. “Then what an opportunity it’ll be for you to practice your powers.”

For a moment, the mask of casual charm slipped, and the true Jaylon stared back at Skye—a man who could play friend or devil with equal ease.

“Don’t overthink it, kid. Just get it done.”

----------------------------------------

Skye stepped through the gaping stone mouth of the prison, his boots crunching on loose gravel as stale air met his face. A faint metallic scent lingered, sharp and unpleasant, but easy enough to ignore. It was the taste of the air that got him—it tasted like dried blood, like pain and regret.

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This is what evil tastes like… Skye thought.

He looked down at the rows and rows of cells. They were lined up in columns and descended deep into the darkness.

“Simple retrieval mission,” Skye muttered under his breath, clutching the syringe Jaylon had given him.

The moment he crossed the threshold, something sharp jabbed into his arm.

“Ah!” Skye flinched, clutching his forearm. A tiny metallic insect-like device had embedded itself in his skin. Its single red light blinked twice before the thing detached and scurried back into a hidden crevice in the stone wall. A small drop of blood welled where it had pierced him.

“What the hell was that…” Skye muttered, rubbing the spot. But aside from a dull sting, nothing felt out of place.

Shaking it off, he pressed forward into the dim corridors.

The cells were carved directly into the stone walls, narrow slits serving as windows, casting faint streaks of light across the floor. Each cell bore a number etched deep into the iron plating of its door—most of them faded and hard to read.

Most cells were empty. Others contained slumped shapes—shadows wrapped in tattered fabric. Some prisoners twitched at his passing, others remained motionless. The deeper Skye went, the quieter it became, the faint echoes of distant dripping water his only company.

A deep fatigue crept into his limbs, slow and relentless, like sand filling his veins. His head felt heavy, his focus slipping at the edges.

You’re just tired, he told himself. You haven’t slept properly in days.

He pressed on, one hand trailing against the cold stone wall to keep himself steady.

Eventually, he reached Cell 2135.

The door was different—reinforced with layers of dark metal and etched with faint glyphs that Skye couldn’t decipher. A small barred window at eye level offered a sliver of the cell’s interior.

Inside, illuminated by pale light from somewhere unseen, sat an elderly woman on a makeshift bench. Her silver hair was woven into long braids, and despite her aged appearance, her skin had a strange, youthful glow. Her back was straight, her eyes sharp and unclouded.

“Not every day someone like you wanders into a place like this,” she said softly, her voice carrying an eerie clarity.

Skye hesitated, gripping the syringe tighter in his hand. “I’m here to rescue you.”

Her lips curled into a faint smile. “Oh? Rescue me? Is that what he told you?”

Skye held up the syringe cautiously. “I’m supposed to give you this. And then we’re supposed to leave.”

Elissia’s smile vanished. She tilted her head, her piercing gaze locking onto the syringe like a hawk spotting prey.

“What’s your name, poor boy?”

“Skye. And yours?”

“I’ve gone by many, many names. But for this day and age, why don’t you call me Elissia?”

Before Skye could react, she lunged forward with surprising speed, snatching the syringe from his grip.

“Hey!” Skye stumbled back, reaching for it, but Elissia held it delicately, examining it.

“You don’t even know, do you? That pinprick at the entrance—it scanned your DNA. You can’t leave this place now. Not without help.”

Skye froze. “What… what do you mean?”

Elissia held the syringe up, letting the faint light glint off its metallic surface. “This isn’t an antidote, boy. It’s poison.”

His stomach dropped.

She slowly unscrewed the syringe, letting its contents drip to the stone floor. The liquid sizzled and smoked as it made contact.

“That was never meant to save me. It was meant to make sure I never left.”

Before Skye could respond, an alarm erupted—a bone-deep, warbling sound that reverberated through the cold stone walls. The sharp clanging of metal followed as cell doors began sliding open one by one, grinding against tracks long and worn with age.

A chill ran down Skye’s spine as he turned to look down the endless hallway. Shadows stretched from within the dark cells, spilling into the dim light. Most were empty, but the occasional silhouette swayed gently in the gaslit haze, barely moving.

“The Spaceman really screwed you, kid.” Elissia stepped out of her cell with slow, deliberate steps. Her sharp eyes flickered upwards to the faint light filtering down from unseen heights. The sky—so impossibly distant—felt like a cruel taunt.

“He calls us criminals,” she continued, her voice cutting through the rising tension, calm and precise. “But I’ve seen that man commit atrocities beyond comprehension. He doesn’t see the inhabitants of Gehanna as people; he sees us as a disease to be eradicated. That includes you. The sooner you learn that, the better.”

The air shifted. Skye felt his chest tighten, his breaths growing shallow as a faint hiss echoed somewhere above them. The gas—whatever it was—thickened, its effects subtle but undeniable. His eyelids felt heavy, his legs unsteady. Every movement was sluggish, like wading through deep water.

Elissia moved closer, and for the first time, Skye realized how tall she was—easily a foot taller than him. She crouched down, leveling her sharp, unsettling gaze with his.

“I will do my best to help you. But I won’t lie to you.” Her voice was low, each word spoken like a truth carved in stone. “You will suffer here. It will be an unending nightmare that you will beg and pray to wake up from. No one—and I mean no one—deserves to be here.”

Skye’s head felt heavy, his vision slightly blurred at the edges. The gas was working its way deeper into his lungs, fogging his thoughts and dulling his instincts.

Elissia leaned in, her cold breath grazing his ear as she whispered, her voice barely audible but unshakably firm.

“But with that being said… while no one deserves to be here, everyone in here—including myself—does not deserve salvation.”

Skye’s breaths came shallow and uneven as she pulled back, locking eyes with him one last time.

“You are from The Structure. I can tell.” Her words lingered in the heavy air. “So whatever Brilliance you have—whatever spark they’ve buried deep inside you—unleash it.”

The alarm abruptly stopped, leaving behind an oppressive silence broken only by the faint hiss of the gas and the distant creak of metal doors finishing their slow crawl open.

Suddenly, a voice crawled out from the depths of the corridor—a sound so low and guttural it vibrated through the very stone around them. It wasn’t loud, but it carried an eerie weight, filling every corner of the prison with malice.

“Something… Someone… new.”

Skye’s stomach dropped, and even Elissia froze in place.

“I can smell it…” The voice reverberated like a slow drip of tar against cold stone. “Fresh. Untouched.”