White Sand

1

It was a chaotic whirlwind of events. The memory of a rifle butt striking my forehead lingered in my mind, eclipsed by the blurriness that ensued. My body crumpled in the snow, heightening my senses to high alert, but the impending darkness claimed me as I passed out.

Upon awakening, my body jolted forward, the surroundings beneath me trembling with my weight. Examining the makeshift bed, I noticed thick metal chains suspended the weight, supported by boxes underneath. As I leaned off the bed, my feet met the cold, unforgiving concrete ground. Allowing my vision to gradually coalesce, I surveyed the cell—a square enclave devoid of windows, except for the small aperture in the door. A sink nestled in the corner and a bucket hinted at the cell's utilitarian purpose.

"Where the hell am I?" I vocalized.

To my surprise, a response emerged from another person, "Jericho," intoned the mysterious voice.

Startled, I swiftly turned my head to the right. Another prisoner occupied the far corner, his fatigued expression contorted into a mischievous grin. Rising before I could grasp the situation, he snickered, "This place is hell. So have fun."

"Who are you?" I queried in confusion.

Ignoring my inquiry, he sauntered to the door, declaring, "I'm Vendartian, by the way. Thought I'd let that one out."

My eyebrows lifted involuntarily. Vendartia, the country of centuries-long conflict for my people. I found myself in a place unrelated to the Astrylis-Vendartia war, a midpoint where putting two opposing enemies in the same cell seemed the only course of action.

"What's your name, you sick bastard?" I raised my voice, already irritated by this stranger. His very countenance grated on my nerves.

Approaching me with a sneering smile, he retorted, "Calm down, buddy. Right now, we're on the same side, and not by choice." Ignoring my question again, he added, "But you don't have to trust me, Siylis Sage."

My eyes widened. "How do you know my name?" I stood up, forcefully grabbing his collar. "Answer me!"

"Hah," he chuckled, raising his hands in regression. "The guards have loud mouths around here." He swirled his index finger in a circular motion, maintaining the unsettling smile.

Letting go of the thin fabric, I walked to the window on the door, realizing there wasn't much leeway. The hallway was the only visible expanse, terminating with a left turn.

The man sharing the cell mirrored my height and age, perhaps a bit younger and paler. Cascading inky hair framed his face, falling just at his shoulders, a stark contrast to my short dark brown hair. Jet-black eyes, resembling fully dilated pupils, met mine as he caught me glancing. When he started waving his hand in my face, claiming, "I know I'm hot and all, but you don't gotta stare," irritation surged within me.

"Why are you here?" I questioned.

"I was strolling through the area," he sarcastically remarked. "No, I was on a mission. I am a commander, after all," he snarked.

"You certainly don't act like one," I muttered under my breath.

He retorted, "Oh yeah? And what exactly is your status?"

"Maybe if you tell me your name, I'll tell ya," I snapped back.

"Nonya Beswak," he replied.

"Is it exotic?"

After hours of arguing, he reluctantly shared his name—Cadell. No last name offered, likely due to our opposing allegiances. If we managed to escape alive, I cared little for his last name.