Depthless: Under The Library

Chapter Sixteen// Alex

Alex's POV

I'm worried. It's been exactly two years since we took Kale Caelum into the City. And recently, we've just added Stella Starre. It won't be long now...

It's all going to begin. The cycle, pattern... the victim.

And it's all going to begin terribly, and result with a gruesome death. For decades, the curse passed down from generations to generations, causing demise, fatal, unpreventable deaths. And still, there were no cures...

No one had ever escaped the curse.

I know it'll only be a matter of time before something triggers the beginning of the curse. The cycle always repeats itself in a two year duration. Never fails to happen, never fails to end in a kill.

I resolved to stop this madness, make a way for the future of the Underground City, for the Librarians. Years ago, to escape this curse, ancestors had built up walls of protection, dug down into the rocks, hoping to be free of the weighty curse... and the deaths. Slowly their efforts did pay off... only certain people were destined to die, as opposed to before, when the deaths made no sense. The kills just happened seemingly at random.

Things steered off for the better, or for the worse, depending on which angle you choose to view it from. One way or another, though, something hadn't changed. Something still remained vital and exasperatingly hopeless... deaths still continued to occur.

And soon... if things go according to the curse, someone is destined to die.

And I have a suspicion...

*****

I stare silently at him. His gaunt face beads with sweat, pale and crushed from hope. He keeps flexing his arms, seemingly triggered to defense by the slightest accusation.

"You called me in here to prepare myself?" He says, disbelief etched clearly onto his face. Weary, broken, as if his future had already been stolen from his live, from imagination.

"Don't give up yet." I urge. Sighing, I try to soften my voice. "Look at it this way, some deaths can't be prevented, yet they can't be scheduled. We can't go about thinking of the number of days you'll have. There's more to this than we know."

He scowls, but even the effort seems too much for him. "Look," he begins with a sigh. "I already known the outcome the moment the curse was explained to me. I had prepared for the moment all my life. I had lived, survived, and now my time will come. You just don't lift my hopes, I'll die anyway." Even his voice is hollow, devoid of passion. He'd already given up.

"You haven't died yet." I didn't mean to sound harsh, but I want him to see, to wake up to life. "You don't even have proof that it'll be you." I try to muster all my emotions into my words. "After all, there is still---"

With an exasperated cry, he jumps up and slams his fist onto my desk, triggering all kinds of lumious flares. His eyes narrows and he tilts his head slightly upwards. For a second, he remains silent, brooding. When he spoke, there was no trace of anguish, just exhaustion. "I know what'll happen to me, you don't need to run me over with a truck to tell me that I'll be the target this year. Face it, Alex." He squeezes his hands into fists and scowls.

"Once the first Crisis kicks in, I'm as good as considered dead." He pushes his chair back so fast, it slides over the rock floor smoothly. Pausing, he surveys me once more, this time, a little flicker of doubt on his face.

A moment later, it was gone, carefully hidden. "In fact, I'm already dead." He announces in a flat voice.

I stand, hands at my sides. For a minute, I just observe him, his face a study, a book under his arm. His expression hardens, his mouth pulling downwards in a sulk.