Chapter 3: Corridor
A figure of black, that walked the empty halls, found within an empty corridor. Or at the very least it was what it seemed to be, for him.
Stone figures that held spears by their side, elegant pictures that hung on the walls, the corridor was not as bleak as he assumed it to be, though he couldn't care less for the decorative objects.
Whilst he continued walking down the hallway, his attention fell on somewhere else. In his mind, the statues and pictures were merely distractions for him.
[I can’t remember anything at all...]
With his mind still in disarray, he couldn’t focus his thoughts. Too many problems arose during his brief exposure to reality.
[Not my name, my home, or even what I am...]
To lack any comprehension regarding oneself, of one's character and identity, would dishearten any entity who wishes to establish a proper understanding of what they were. A personality, along with its given memories, where what a mind was said to be made of.
It was a simple analogy that seemed applicable with his troubles, and the latter he was missing of. His memories were vague.
His obliviousness, along with the cipher's unravelling...
It implied certain things about himself, especially after the recent events.
[Am I human? I should be...] With a fearful tone, he queried his suspicions to himself. [... right?]
It was a frightening thought, for the boy was terrified of what he was. The exploit he exhibited earlier, the numeral feat were impossible for mundane people to achieve, yet his mind accomplished it without.
And though the process was quite painful, he succeeded nonetheless.
As if a part of him acted on its own accord, not heeding its owner's thoughts. He couldn't fathom how the actions took place.
Perhaps he willed his mind to act in such a manner, an unconscious action that took place by his own regards. If it was, then it reinforced the idea of his strange situation where his own mind was a stranger to him.
He shouldn't be capable of any supernatural feats, but his recent exploit said otherwise.
The fact that he fled the throne room was already a known fact, as he was living proof of it.
He came from the regal space, where the November Cipher stood and tested his so-called 'mettle', even though he only floundered about, found aghast by the strange sights that flooded his view.
It remained vivid to him.
To suddenly awaken within a room of intricacies, with luxuries that belonged to a king, only to be faced by a hindrance; the November Cipher, though he surpassed it.
The events that transpired earlier, he likened his experiences to a theatrical farce, where the audience laughed at his plight. The boorish crowd, making light of his situation, as they watched the events unfold.
It was as if...
[Is someone watching me?]
He couldn't neglect such a frightening possibility. For some reason, it lingered with him. He couldn't fully erase his detrimental abstractions that turned him to fear his surroundings.
[Is that it?]
With watchful eyes, he observed his vacant surroundings, suspicious of anything that may come to stand between him. He only saw statues and paintings from the hallside, as the former stood steadfast in their eternal guard, and the latter drawn in painted colors.
He saw nothing that would bring him harm, other than the foreboding statues that he regarded with distress.
But he knew them to be inanimate. They were but mere stone figures, and their spears would not harm him.
[Am I being irrational?]
The boy came into the awareness of his illogical fear, one painted by himself. He stretched his dread too much, and it lead to his current paranoia.
[Maybe I should calm down...]
His thoughts had grown stagnant due to his weathering mind, as he agonized over many prospects; none of which were seen to be beneficial to him.
After the brief misery he went through, his thoughts took to a darker cast. Made worse by the implications that his body carried, that he was no human.
He couldn't help that his raven vestments did not seem interested in loosening themselves, as it hid his body well. His entire figure was clothed in black. Nothing more, nothing less.
Perhaps if he could gaze at what his strange attire hid from him, then he could confirm the state of his physical form. He only needed a single glance at his exposed shell to confirm what he was.
If he saw human skin beneath, then it would quell his fears.
But he did not have the luxury to do so, as his clothing refused to be torn. Neither did it react to cutlery nor any abrasive surface he could find.
He already gave up on doing so, as he focused on claiming a level mind.
[I should calm down, if only for a minute.]
The boy doubted that with his jumbled state, he could find meaningful progress in his thoughts.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
[I still need to infer my location, of where the fuck I am...]
While his blasphemed remark did not contribute to elevating his etiquette, he found reprieve in dwelling with profanity. For a few seconds, his mind had eased a bit in the burdens that it carried after uttering a sweared word.
And he was right to assume composure, as acting without orderly fashion would just hinder his efforts more. As of right now, he needed to maintain a clear state of mind. Only then could he properly act upon his thoughts and suspicions.
Of where he currently was.
[As long as I ignore what happened earlier, I should be okay... I think.]
The boy did not sound wholly convinced over himself, though this was the extent of his exertion. While the experience remained unforgettable, he maintained composure, and yet his uncertainty continued.
[Ignore it...]
His efforts were not wasted, as his thoughts were ushered to somewhere else. This was the least that he could do, without compromising too much of his time.
If he became engrossed in removing his anxiety, then much time would have passed, and he might feel the effects of thirst and hunger by then.
While he'd yet to confirm whether he needed to stave off both natural needs, he did not want to test his body. He still believed himself to be a human, that was what his intuition told him.
Though his current emplacement mattered more, as there was no use in rumination over himself when he knew not where he was.
[Now then...] With quick respite, he settled his doubts. He now focused on the task at hand. [Where have my legs taken me?]
With a mind that teetered between soundness and discord, he paid no heed to his surroundings earlier. Which bit him back when he had no proper leads regarding his location.
If he spared a bit of effort into addressing that problem, then he wouldn't be fumbling around as he currently was.
[hallway... hallway... hallway...] He muttered repeatedly, whilst his mind tried to make sense of his surroundings. [Ah!]
After brief rumination, the boy remembered where he was. It took him little time to recollect himself after his short bout with emotional stress. His much needed abeyance allowed him to ascertain his location.
[This hallway!] He promptly asserted with certainty. [Now that I'm here though, what do I do now?]
There was no clear way for him to do things. The unfriendly conditions he found himself in did not provide the boy with any favorable objects he could use to surmise his situation.
With his goals unapparent, other than discovering who he was, that is, he could only walk aimlessly.
[Where do I go next?] He probed his mind further, though it yielded nothing in return. [I don’t have a map, nor do I have the means to get one.]
A few seconds of silence made the situation rather awkward for the boy. His habit of questioning himself proved to be an embarrasing experience for him.
[Eh, I’ll just continue walking then.] He blurted out, neglecting to form a proper conjecture of his plight.
And so he strolled afoot, trudging through the statues past, and the paintings with colored hues.
They were merely decorative objects, and he shouldn't heed their presence.
And, as he neared the hallway's end, he found himself facing a hinged barrier of wood. A flatboard of sorts, that bore into the dreary wall. It was an entrace way, assuming he could make passage through the timbered ingress.
It wouldn't be serving its purpose if it blocked him from entering.
In other words, it was a wooden door.
[It’s another accursed door.] Miffed by the appearance of another entrance, he expressed his distaste for the wooden gate.
[It sounds completely logical to have a door at the end of the hallway but even so, fuck it.]
His previous encounter with movable barriers, particularly with a certain golden gate, had eliminated any tolerance he could possibly have over the hinged aperture.
To have a single door lying in wait at the end of a suspicious corridor was enough to earn his suspicions.
Especially if it was another riddle.
[Please don't tell me this is a puzzle.] It made sense. The last door, or gate rather, that he saw was a puzzle by itself. He could only assume that this normal-looking door would also be one.
[Might as well see if it's hiding anything then.]
The door had no interesting features, being composed entirely out of wood. It had a single metal knob on its rightmost portion, as most of its kin did. It was dark brown, not lacquered nor coated in any paint.
It's color seemed to be a natural one. A natural, mahogany brown.
It looked nothing more than an ordinary, unassuming door. It was about as normal as any door could be. Indeed, it looked mundane to him.
Though he still harbored suspicions about the wooden entrance, skeptical of its supposed ordinary appearance.
He couldn't be blamed for such thoughts after what happened earlier.
[And we also have this... painting?] He led his gaze over the entrance.
And above the door, a picture of the moon hung itself. A meticulous painting of the celestial sphere, where its craters and jagged plains were thoroughly detailed. It was intricately made, as if the artist had studied its details beforehand.
A full moon, nothing more.
[Alright, so there's a painting and a door.] He debated the significance of the two objects before him. [And they both seem normal, too.]
Even as he deliberated over their mundanity, they did not seem to be anomalous. Both objects simply stood by its emplacement, as neither moved from its position. They seemed ordinary enough.
Perhaps he was being unreasonable, for expecting the objects to be a cause for alarm. His incredulous beliefs continued to affect him.
[Is this a normal door?]
He disregarded the painting as something to be ignored, as he focused his attention towards the wooden entrance.
[If I turn the knob, will it swing open as I expect it to?]
This was open for dispute, as he wasn't aware of any caveats that might come from twisting the door knob; that it might suddenly spring open with a trap awaiting him.
Though, he was fairly certain that no such thing will occur. He was just overthinking things, perhaps.
[Welp, here goes nothing.] The boy reached for the silver knob, as he attempted to twist the latch.
A single click echoed throughout the corridor, as the knob moved with his grasp. The boy succeeded in turning it, as he began to pull at the handle. The door could not be moved by him.
He tried and twisted the knob in different angles, though the reaction remained the same. The wooden entrance refused his presence, he was certain of it.
The door did not budge.
[Yep...] With apathy, he regarded the gate with a glare. [I should have expected this.]
His guess was correct, that the door hid something from him.
[I’ll just kick the crap out of you, if only for the sake of it.] With those words, he attempted to do so. He kicked it. [Ow.]
As if was not enough of an embarrasment, the boy felt piercing gazes from beyond his sight. The figures of stone, as they held their spears aside, seemed to be enjoying themselves on account of his plight.
He felt that they were mocking him for his foolishness.
[...] His silence showed no emotion.
While he fell under their insulting glares, he knew better than to react. His mind was merely playing tricks on him, as the statues were unliving. He should retain his faltering composure, as their gazes bore into him.
The boy needed to keep calm, it was a simple deed to accomplish. That was all he had to do.
[I should check the painting next.]
While he still felt the statues glaze over him, he chose to examine the next object. The pictured moon was his next lead.
[There might be something hidden behind it.]
The picture hung above the wooden entrance, and it was beyond his grasp. His height did not even reach the door's full length, and he was far too small to secure the canvas painting. His childlike stature was not appropriate for reaching the lunar picture.
He would need to resort to other ways.
[I guess I could try jumping?]
That was one approach he could take, as it seemed to be the most obvious. And yet, his physical form did not seem to accomodate for such a task.
[I don't expect my body to fare well in this department, however.]
To reach the picture by propelling himself upwards with his legs did not seem... feasible. From the boy's obvious frailty, he could not accomplish this with his physical abilities.
From kicking the door alone, he already felt substantial pain even as his legged attempt carried little strength. He could not rely on his own body for any strenous tasks, so he decided to head elsewhere. Towards the statues that glared at him.
Perhaps they could form a makeshift stairs with them, though it did seem absurd for him.