When Lightning Strikes: The Cosmic Soldier

8. The Depths of Darkness

Whispers and unfamiliar voices crept through the walls of his enclosed prison. Amal's senses were still impaired. His body, however sluggish, allowed him to move slowly within his confines. He was finally able to move his head around. A slight movement of his arm caused him to wince, as his wrist chafed against the fabric of the rope.

His eyes glowered, focusing on a tiny point in the darkness of the room. His vision slowly returned, and he spotted the walls towering several dozen feet high. He was enclosed within a small, square room. The walls moved towards him, closing in on the boy. Amal shuddered; the sheer minuscule space of his captivity left him breathless. Suffocating in the grips of his sealed cage. There was also a strange binding that covered his ears, it muffled the noise around him and further encased him in isolation.

Gritting his teeth, the boy furiously wrestled with his binds. The attempt caused greater pain on his wrist, as a tear worked its way out of his eye. Breathing heavy, the boy inched his fingers towards the binding of the rope.

Soon, Amal's hand was free. He then quickly wrestled with the other, snapping it open. He tore off his ear bindings. Voices became clearer, and footsteps echoed around him. Beyond the wall that separated him, he heard feet tapping on the ground. The rustling of fabric, and soft, heavy breathing leeched through the walls.

He stood up from the chair. Immediately, pain flared and shot up from the side of his abdomen. His vision blurred once again. He glanced down. His side had been bandaged thoroughly from the recent stabbing; however, a little bit of blood had seeped through the cloth from his movement.

Footsteps approached his room. Voices grew louder. But only two distinct voices echoed within the halls. It seemed that, with the clanging of keys, there would soon be others in the room now. The lock clicked, and the door opened.

"-we'll get information from him, and soon I'll kill-"

"Wait, where's the boy?" The two men stared in shock at the empty chair.

"I don't know. He couldn't have escaped, could he?"

"I-I don't..." the man stopped and slowly looked up, fearful. He locked eyes with the glares of the boy directly above them. Amal stared coldly at them; his feet planted on each side of the walls.

The boy dropped down, bashing them against the stone floor below. Blood trickled from the impact, their faces were smashed on the cold, hard ground. Amal sighed.

"Why do people bleed so much," the boy asked the walls, before rubbing off the blood on his hands. The walls didn't answer.

One of the enemy soldiers had held a long knife. Amal pried it from the dead man's fingers.

A voice echoed from beyond his unlocked enclosure. A familiar voice. Far away, echoing through the walls were the cries of his comrade.

Jas, I'm coming, he thought.

He crept alongside the walls of the hall, making no noise. There it was.

"Amal, help!" her cries, though very soft and barely audible, crept into his ear. He sped through the halls, his mind racing with adrenaline, following the voice.

"No one else...you. Speak...is Anduru planning now...?" Amal heard the snapping of flesh, followed by Jasmine's cry of pain echoing through the halls.

He recoiled at the snap, wincing as though he was being tortured. He huffed, and increased his pace.

As he ran, he felt the air whip around him. The halls were dimly lit with bulbs on the ceiling, giving off an eerie, strange feeling. As though he were inside an evil dungeon, surrounded by traps. His eyes burned with hatred and bloodlust.