Set the Truth Ablaze: KotLC Oneshots

Oneshot #8

Definitely not me publishing without editing or rereading at all at 2 a.m. with blurry eyes, hoping nobody yells at me for not publishing a single chapter on anything for the past six months, and definitely not at all hoping with all my heart @Griffin0123 doesn't read this until I manage to edit it, but, uh . . . here you go? It's only 7,000 words, lolz, so it's not as long as usual. Also, listening to Happiest Year by Jaymes Young, and sobbing. pAiN. On we go!
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Keefe rattled the thick metal bars of his cell as its unwelcoming cold seeped under his skin and sent tendrils of sickening fear slinking in the pit of his stomach. It was almost funny, now, to think that, after all this time, he could still remember when that fear had been butterflies, when that beautiful girl with the gold-flecked brown eyes was all he had.

He'd been stuck in his prison for moments, days, seconds, and years spun into a web of lies. He wasn't sure what was what anymore. According to common sense — where had that gone, by the way? — it was only a few hours ago he was thrown behind those empty, dark, freezing bars. He hadn't been unconscious that long either, so he couldn't have been brought anywhere too far. The others should have found him by now. If they were still searching.

The only thing to accompany him were rocks, dirt, more rocks, and a tiny lantern squeaking softly as it swayed on its rusted hook casting a cold golden glow across his cell, but beyond the bars, shadows overtook anything he might've been able to see. On the wall of his cell opposite to the bars, a tiny barred window viewed the full moon and its legion of stars casting a silver gleam against inky black ocean waves.

Otherwise, it was bare.

How cozy.

And so many bars. What was it with the Neverseen and gloominess? When he'd been a part of it, he never had a place to call home, a place he was proud of. For the love of gremlins, they were villains who could hack into Council tech and scramble their own locations like they were buttering toast. Surely they could steal a few inexpensive penthouses along the way. Was that really so hard?

"You know, it's not very surprising this place is yours," he called out, shaking the bars of his cell again. "The jail is a bit much, you know, I'm not going to hurt you, but the lack of decoration is just like you."

"Hmm, no," came a beautiful voice, a stunning voice that he hadn't heard in ages. That voice he'd longed to hear for so long, that voice his heart yearned for until it hurt, and it wouldn't stop. Her tone was pure and sweet, kind and intelligent, funny and gorgeous, carefree in a way he'd longed to hear it . . . and laced with a darkness he'd never heard before. "No. See, darling, it was the old me. Now it's pitiful, really, looking at that idiot. Weak." She scoffed. "Pathetic. You should see my new place. Pretty nice actually."

Keefe hesitated. "I'd like to. I'd like to see everything. I'd like to see you."

"Don't lie to me, Keefe," the voice replied lazily. Finally, he caught a pair of striking eyes darkened by shadows far where the swaying lantern's light couldn't stretch it's glow. "You want to see the girl you knew." She laughed, and he hadn't heard that melodic laughter in so long, but nor had he heard the despicable cruelty in it.

This was her, but it wasn't. This was all he'd expected it to be, and yet it wasn't what he'd hoped for.

Then again, what had he been hoping for?

Could she really have ventured so far into the darkness, going down a path he couldn't follow (not me quoting Star Wars), that he couldn't bring her back the way he vowed to?

"Well. Hate to break it to you, but she's gone."

"No, she isn't."

"Dead."