CHAPTER 13

‘Actions have consequences, Callen’. Don’t they ever?

The echoes of my hurried footsteps made the whole trip to the entrance feel like I was trapped in another world, devoid of life, by my own doing. Ignoring the splattered remains of the psychopathic researchers took little effort, and in no time at all, I found myself facing a massive blast door identical to the ‘Armoury’ door. A few chops of my blade, a hesitant use of Arcane Singularity on the tiniest possible scale later, and a massive stairwell that leads upwards is revealed.

I waste no time climbing my way upwards, towards freedom. I have not seen the sunset or sunrise in over two years. I have not heard the birds sing. I have not smelled the fresh breeze of a crisp spring morning. I have not spent my very early morning trimming the weeds on our farm or tending to Mother’s beloved flowers, nor will I ever.

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The dark, empty tunnel stretches on forever. The rough stone walls provide no comfort. My steps get faster with each flight of stairs, and the tiny dot of the entrance grows larger and larger with each second. As I reach the top of the stairway, I find myself face to face with a nondescript wall of rough stone. I summon my blade and take a stance. The sword feels impossibly heavy. I have torn through literal psychotic Devils to get to this point. I spent years as a useless guinea pig, to be poked and prodded at the behest of these fuckers. They liked their pigs to squeal, ‘shows the fruit of their labour’, Frank happily shared with me, one hundred and sixty-two days ago.

I inhale. Bring the sword to an angle of forty-five degrees above my head and swing. The blade passes through as if nothing is there, and I almost trip over in my overextension. Looking around confirms that there is still no one around, bringing little relief. My Ancestors must be rolling in their graves.

I unsummon the blade and unceremoniously step forward.

The first thing I notice is the light. The sky is dyed in a dark violet hue, with the colours getting brighter as it approaches the horizon. My perch provides a panoramic view of the massive forest that extends in all directions. The shadows of birds could be seen above the treetops, no doubt enjoying the last vestiges of the waning day. A gentle breeze caresses my shoulder-length hair, and the smell of pinewood could be picked up even from this far up.

I close my eyes and savour the sensation. This is freedom.