Within the Eye

Chapter 3

"They'll be waiting for you at the Keep," Praxys said, finally breaking the silence. His voice was controlled, aloof, though I caught the slightest flicker of something in his tone. A warning?

I didn't reply. My attention was already fractured, drawn to the unseen eyes boring into me through the windows of passing buildings, from the guards at the gates. Everyone knew who I was—Pan, the traitor, the Rebel strategist, now back in the hands of the Society.

I felt like there was little of Pan left, even my narrative retold.

In the Society's narrative, I was another child of Society lost to the rebels. A promising talent beguiled and deceived by rebel lies. A gemstone ripped away too soon before the Casting could make her shine. Poor Pandora, they would think, a wayward ward of Society, lost in the chaos of false ideals. A girl too promising to be wasted on such lies. I had no doubt they were already perfecting the narrative, making me out to be another victim—just like all the others who had fallen for the rebel cause. They couldn't let the truth about the rebellion exist—about its appeal, its reasons.

My lips twitched in a brief smirk. Society might need to add another chapter to their story after my recent fanatic abscondment.

Then my expression fell, knowing how such a chapter would end. My rebellion had to be re-written into something tragic, a consequence of manipulation and misunderstanding. However, my return would be a triumph for Society, rescuing me and returning me back to the fold.

-

The thought seemed to tighten my grip on the seat's edge as we passed deeper into the labyrinthine streets of the Capital. The rhythmic hum of the engine felt too calm against the pounding in my chest. I could feel memories clawing their way to the surface, trying to fill in the gaps between the gaps in my mind.

My diary helped me remember how it all began. But there was still so much missing. I was finding it harder to remember what happened after what should have been my end. After the siege when I was left behind. When I finally underwent Casting.

If there was one thing the rebels knew most; the Casting gave, but it also took. When I was Cast, the Pan people knew should have died. Pandora took Pan's place, but even such self-reflection continued to tell me that Pan was still very much alive.

My eyes shifted towards Praxys. He sat beside me, stiff and silent, his eyes glued forward, not even flickering as the Capital passed us by. His expression was unreadable, but his tension was clear. He looked every bit the loyal soldier of the Society, but I couldn't help but wonder if the same applied to him. If I was still me, then maybe he was still... him.

-

We moved deeper into the Capital, into the beating heart of the Society that had once been my enemy. I didn't have to ask where we were going. The Keep was the main venue in my nightmares—dark, towering, with walls too thick for light to penetrate. It was where they brought those they wanted to break who had defied them and lived. It was a hideous place.

But I wasn't defiant anymore, was I? They had made sure of that. Praxys had made sure of that.

I glanced at Praxys, watching his jaw clench the closer we approached the Keep, the tension that he carried despite the calm exterior. He hadn't spoken much since the infirmary, since he told me about the fallacitine, the Governor's Gala, and how I had been found spitting fury and wielding death in both hands. Rebel. Fallacitine or not, that was still me, or so it seemed.

But this place—it was meant to change people. Change me.

"We're almost there," Praxys said, his voice pulling me back to the present. I caught his eyes for a brief moment, and I could see it again—that flicker. He wasn't as in control as he seemed. But that didn't change what I knew. He was Praxys now. The boy who had raced me through the streets, laughed with me in the shadows of the Capital... he was gone. And I had to stop looking for him in the man that sat beside me.

The Keep loomed ahead, its boxy sharp edges and shapeless form like a hulking beast against the skyline. The guards were already gathering at the gates as we pulled up, their faces set in stone, waiting for me.

Aside from the welcome party, there was little pomp or ceremony when I was escorted through the metal doors of the Keep with Praxys and his soldiers. Guards were stationed at each door we passed didn't move a muscle. Their silent vigil felt unnerving—their chain-fabric armour gleaming, each detail of their precision-tailored uniforms visible under the harsh white light of the city's standard issue lights. Even so, their faces were hidden behind dark visors, unfeeling, detached. I could almost feel the power that lay behind those uniforms—reinforced by the technology of the Bank, programmed for one purpose.

I shivered slightly, rubbing my arms as the memories of those uniforms resurfaced. I had been on the other side once. I had been the one delivering the shock. The same shock those uniforms were designed to absorb—and double back on the one delivering it.

-

All the doors in the halls we walked were locked and under guard. The Keep was for prisoners, but it was also for research and important interventions for the Society. Although I was already a prisoner, I knew Praxys wasn't escorting me to a Keep cell.

He pulled me back to the present as he guided me through another doorway, dismissing the soldiers that had followed us. His grip tightened on my arm when I tried to pull away.

We came to a final metal door with no guards, but a control panel, its sleek interface glowed at our approach.

I scowled and tried to remove my arm from his grip as he plugged in a key code to the door control pad, but he tightened his grip as a red laser beamed from the pad to scan his face.

"Access permitted for: one, in a party of two. Welcome, Praxys Merritt, Lieutenant General of the Paladin Order," the computer voice intoned placidly.

"She needs access too. She's my guest," Praxys said, his eyes briefly flicking to mine. The word 'guest' hung in the air, mocking the cold metal cuffs around my wrists, and the invisible ones between us.

I raised an eyebrow, more at the audacity of the statement than anything else. "Guest", he said.

The computer replied, "To register your guest for access permission, please step forward for scan, guest of Lieutenant General Merritt."

"What is this for?" I asked.

"I would think that's obvious," Praxys said.

The computer reiterated on cue, "To register your guest for access permission, please step forward for scan, guest of Lieutenant General Merritt."

I held his gaze for a beat, running through the possibilities. I was a prisoner, even if he and Society pretended I wasn't. I was at the Keep, a vital facility for imprisoning those who disrupted Society's order and where the most important measures were implemented to prevent future disruptions to order, prisoner or citizen. This was where I would have come with Praxys had I stayed with him and underwent Casting. This was where I was taken for Casting after I was left behind by the rebels in the Capital siege. It wasn't hard to deduce really. I had run away from Society again, even if it was under the influence of fallacitine, and when I was brought back the same process had to repeat. I wasn't sure if it was cruelty or kindness that it was Praxys who was doing this to me now.

"If I scan here, will the data be stored locally or shared with the Bank?" I said, looking at the control pad. It was easier to hide the stinging behind my eyes at the betrayal that swept through me. The question was also meaningless, all data input into any computer was always shared with the Bank. A local data copy is allowed to remain after sharing, but to maximise local technology storage, the original data was destroyed to make way for new.

"It will be shared," Praxys said, answering my question. My hand curled into a tight fist to curb the need to punch him for not understanding, but his firm grip on my arm was enough of a reminder to behave.

The computer's voice repeated its instructions. I sighed, stepping forward for the inevitable scan.

The computer read my face quickly. "Access permitted for: two, in a party of two." 

I closed my eyes, feeling sick when it continued to speak. 

"Welcome, Praxys Merritt, Lieutenant General of the Paladin Order, Pair of Pandora Volt. Welcome, Pandora Volt, Director of Cross Institution, Pair of Praxys Merritt."