Desert Wind

Chapter 10

***

I crossed my arms over my chest. The narrow corridor was damp, the moisture clinging to my skin uncomfortably. It stank of piss. I felt like I should turn back, but I didn't. Some force was pulling me forward—maybe it was just curiosity, or maybe something more. Either way, I kept walking, surrounded by damp, dark walls and the stench.

I squealed when a rat ran past my bare foot. Back in my room, I had decided not to put on my shoes because I wanted to be as quiet as possible. Now, I covered my mouth with my hand and stood still. But no one came. Apparently, no one had heard me. I sighed with relief.

The knocking resumed, echoing rhythmically in the distance. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. The sound was like the rhythmic hammering you'd hear at a blacksmith's or armorer's workshop. I pulled myself together and moved on. With each step, the sound grew louder.

I passed another closed door, walking more confidently now. One step at a time, I moved forward, glancing back every now and then. The gates lining the corridor on either side of me were different from those on the upper floor—they seemed larger and more durable. I stopped in front of one of them. There was no doubt the sound was coming from behind it. I hesitated.

And now what? What am I doing? I'm looking for an escape route.

I didn't have time to think or even regret my decisions. I stood frozen as panic seized me.

"I was waiting for you," someone said from behind the door. I jumped. The voice shattered the silence of this place like a sudden thunderclap in the dead of night. A shiver ran down my spine. My heart pounded in my chest, and I was drenched in sweat. I knew that voice—I had heard it before. I couldn't remember where, but it wasn't the first time.

"Come in. What are you waiting for?" the voice continued, still disturbingly familiar.

Acting on impulse, with no better ideas, I opened the door and stepped inside. I blinked a few times.

What the f...

In front of me, a lead-colored grate stretched across the entire length of the room. The bars formed a perfect checkerboard, making any escape impossible. Metal chains hung from the ceiling in some places—some ending in shackles, others simply dangling. It was unpleasantly dark, and the atmosphere of the place gave me the creeps. A single lamp burned in the corner, casting long shadows. Lysandra was in the cell—known in Aram as a fortune-teller, but in reality, a true magician. It was her magic that had caused the hut to explode. This woman, or rather this monster, had killed so many people. And all this time, she had been right beneath me.

She was dressed in a tattered white slip, with a threadbare dressing gown thrown over it. Her clothes were long past their prime—dirty and torn. She looked like a homeless person at best, completely different from when I had last seen her.

I covered my nose with my hand. The room reeked. I didn't even want to know what exactly the stench was, but it was unbearable.

"You see how they treat me here, Klelio..." Her eyes gleamed in the darkness. I stood silently before her. Finally, I took a step forward.

"They must have a reason," I whispered, though she heard me perfectly. She grimaced.

"How do you know my name?" I asked. Aram is a small town, but I hadn't thought she'd know me. During the events outside the cottage, I hadn't even known who she was.

"Oh, is that what interests you, Klelio? You know so little, yet you have so much..." she muttered under her breath. "But since you're here, I suppose they need me after all. Fortunate for me. Very good. Very good indeed." She laughed.