A Touch Of Darkness

3 || No More Questions

As the others stride ahead, the captain purposefully forcing his comrade not to retreat towards me, I linger behind. Partly to maintain the distance, and partly due to the awe I find myself caught in.

Admittedly, the corridor is dark and musty, not a massive change from the interior of my cell, yet every little difference startles me. The sharp echo of my footsteps mingles with those of the Neyaibet soldiers ahead. I'm so used to hearing the sound from afar; it is a strange mix of familiar and utterly surreal.

In regular intervals, the captain glances back at me, as if to check I'm still following. It seems pointless, seeing as all that lays in the other direction is my cell at the end of an empty dead end, but his gaze seeks to pin me down and drag me after him. I can't help but wonder why.

I remember the brush of Oswin's touch, the surging reply of icy heat. My head drops. Why would anyone want to keep me around after seeing that?

My flame itches beneath my skin, reminding me of the worst detail of all. Even now, a faint voice pricks at the back of my mind, whispering that he deserved it. That he chose to come near, and to reach for me, to provide the perfect bridge for my power to cross. And his punishment was beautiful.

"Hey, kid!"

My attention snaps up. I realise with a jolt how far ahead the soldiers have strayed. The darkness almost obscures the captain, standing with his arms crossed at the far end of the corridor. The other seems to have vanished.

Quickening my step, I hurry to join him, though I halt a little more than an arm's length away. He examines me for a moment. I run my nail over my fingers, half-afraid that after all of this, he plans to leave me alone regardless.

But he only sighs and turns away. "We need to work on your sense of urgency. Now, come on."

For the first time, I notice the narrow steps he stands at the foot of. They are thin and wiry, and stretch vertically upwards. As he begins climbing, I creep nearer, peering along their length. The light that streams from above is bright enough to sear at my eyes, leaving me blinking away pale specs.

For several seconds, I stare downwards, listening to the captain's rhythmic steps and waiting for the sting to subside. It isn't fully gone by the time the creaking of the steps fades, but I give my eyes one last squeeze before reaching for the steps and tilting my head up. My vision has adjusted enough to make out his form above, and a wider room beyond, but the details are still blurry, and the very sight makes my head ache.

I shake my head with a hiss. I've lived in darkness so long that I am simply not made for the light. Hopefully the world isn't all this blinding.

I shift my focus to the steps. There is a vertical handle at the side, and I wrap my hand around it. The metal digs into the sole of my foot as I step up, but it takes my weight despite the resulting creak. At least, I hope so. The slight shudder I feel as I move up another step is rather disconcerting, but it could easily be my own trembling.

Aware of the captain watching my progress, I push myself not to linger, and move up the stairs at as swift a pace as I can muster. Every movement is too unsteady, the air at my back unfit to catch me should my grip slip away, but I can't stop to consider any of that.

By the time I swing myself away from the final step and stumble onto solid ground, I barely notice the harsh brightness anymore. I'm ashamed of the way my hands shake. Climbing a set of steps like these must hardly be an effort for people like these soldiers, yet for me, it is an achievement simply to reach the top.

Trying to calm the pounding in my heart, I peer into the hole the steps descend into. All I can see is the gloom.

"Trouble with the ladder?"