The stone walls squeezed in on Zane. Or maybe it was just his panic. He paced. The tiny cell felt smaller with each step. “This is the worst luck ever!”
Darius sat on a rickety stool like it was a throne. “While the rooms are not ideal, I do not see what is so terrible about our situation.”
Zane stopped, staring at Darius like he was crazy. “We’re in prison, man. Prison! How is that not terrible?!”
Darius lifted an eyebrow. “Being in prison is just a change in our situation. It gives us a chance to make a plan.”
“A plan?! For what? Digging out with a rusty spoon?!”
“Escaping is one option,” Darius replied, unfazed. “But it is short-sighted. The real questions are: who gains from us being here? What do they want? And how can we turn this to our advantage?”
Zane threw his hands up. “Oh, great! Nothing says ‘advantage’ like being stuck in a stinky, moldy cell! Maybe we should redecorate. Add some fancy curtains to brighten the place up!”
He slumped to the floor, back hitting the cold wall. The chipped mug slipped from his hand and hit the ground, rolling away. Great. Even the mug was abandoning him.
CLANK! Metal shifting.
Zane’s eyes snapped wide. Heart hammered.
The lock… it popped open! Sharp, hollow sound.
Then… nothing. Silence. Heavy silence.
Zane jumped to his feet. Who could it be? A guard coming to take them away? An assassin sent to silence them? Or worse, the jailer bringing dinner? He had heard the food was so bad it made plain water seem like a treat.
“We’re done for!” Zane whispered. He grabbed Darius and tried to pull him behind the wobbly stool.
Darius put a hand on Zane’s arm. “Control yourself, Zane. We need to see what’s happening before we—” He stopped as a figure entered the room.
Lyra. Bright red hair crackling with energy. A huge grin on her face. “Hey, guys! Miss me?”
Zane’s jaw dropped. He stared at her like she was a ghost.
Darius tilted his head. “Your appearance here is... unexpected, Lyra. Did you have trouble in your own cell?”
Lyra laughed, twirling a strand of her hair. “Trouble? Nah. Boring. Figured I’d stretch my legs. You know I hate being stuck.”
“Stretch your legs?” Zane asked. “You broke out of your cell?!”
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Lyra shrugged. “A little crafting magic here, a little lock-picking there... It’s all about the right tools, you know.”
“The right tools?!” Zane looked ready to explode. “You make it sound like baking cookies! We’re talking about breaking out of prison!” He turned to Darius, desperate. “Darius, say something!”
Darius looked at Lyra, unfazed. “Your skills are impressive, Lyra. But your actions might have consequences.”
Lyra waved it off. “Relax, Darius, it’s fine! No harm, no foul, right?”
Heavy footsteps. Coming closer.
Zane froze. So much for “no harm, no foul.”
Footsteps. Closer. Louder.
Then, silence. Right outside their cell.
Zane held his breath. Heart pounding. This was it. They were done for.
A guard’s voice boomed. “You’re in big trouble, lady! Get back in your cell!”
Lyra blinked, innocent. “But I am in prison. Does it really matter which cell I’m in?”
The guard’s face turned red. “Yes! Yes, it matters! You have a specific cell for a reason!”
Lyra tilted her head. “As long as I’m somewhere inside these walls, aren’t I still in prison?”
The second guard scratched his chin. “I mean... she’s got a point. She’s still in prison.”
The first guard glared at his partner. “No, she doesn’t have a point, Gorf! You can’t just wander around and pick any cell you want! There are rules!”
Lyra’s eyes lit up. “Rules? Oh, so it’s like an inn? I can’t change rooms without checking with the front desk?”
Gorf nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. You wouldn’t just walk into someone else’s room at an inn.”
The first guard pointed. “Exactly! That’s what I’m saying!”
But Lyra wasn’t done. “But wait, what if the inn is on fire and I’m just trying to get out? Isn’t it more important to stay inside the building, even if it’s not my exact room?”
Gorf’s eyes widened. “True. Safety first. Maybe we should look at the bigger picture here, Borg.”
Borg looked like he might scream. “Gorf! No! The cell isn’t on fire! You can’t just wander from cell to cell like it’s a buffet!”
Lyra grinned. “But if it was a buffet, what would be on the menu? Freedom Fudge? Escape Enchiladas?”
Gorf chuckled, then stopped when Borg glared. “Sorry, but that was funny.”
Borg threw his hands up. “This is ridiculous! You can’t just make up silly examples! The specific cell matters! It’s about control and order!”
Lyra tapped her chin. “Hmm... order, control. Got it. But does the cell number matter? If I feel imprisoned, isn’t that following the rules?”
Gorf’s mouth dropped open. “Whoa, that’s deep. It’s like... prison is in your mind.”
Borg looked like he might explode. “Prison is NOT in your mind! It’s real! With walls and rules! And you broke the rules!”
Before he could say anything else, a bell rang in the distance.
Lyra clapped her hands. “Well, that settles it. The King wants to see us, and I don’t want to be late.”
She skipped down the hallway, red hair bouncing. The guards and her cellmates were left stunned.
“Did... did she just...?” Borg stammered, confused.
Gorf shook his head. “No idea, Borg. No idea.”
The guards turned to Zane and Darius. Motioned for them to follow.
They fell in line. Footsteps echoed on the cold stone floor.
The corridor widened. Ceiling rising above them. More torches flickered along the walls. The air felt less suffocating. Zane could almost breathe. Almost.
He glanced at Darius. Always calm. Always thinking. Always ready.
Zane sighed. Why couldn’t he be like that? His nerves showed. Shaky. Unsteady.
Cells passed by. Faces looked out. Sad. Angry. Defeated.
A voice broke the silence. Faint. “Where do they take you when the bell rings?”
No one answered.
The guards ignored it. Pretended not to hear.
Zane’s heart pounded. Mouth dry.
Where were they taking him?
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Chapter 2 Video/Audio version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=58Xn9EjMFDw