Seven Deadly Sons

Melanie. (37)

Did they even have a sun here? Had I ever seen it?

Someone was outside my cell.

"Melanie." A man, then.

Not man. Whispered Ameline, inside my head.

Why was it so hard to remember that?

Because they look like us, she said. Just prettier.

That made me snicker. Perhaps I was going mad.

I didn't answer, found the sieve and the back wall - and prepared to swing my tray. That option was not out of the question, yet.

The door sung open noiselessly, only the gust of wind it brought told me of the movement. The lights had still not been lit.

"Melanie," He whispered again. "Please invite me in."

I quirked my head at this, puzzled. Invite this stranger into my prison cell? It was almost comical.

He took a step forward, and suddenly it seemed important to be the one to allow this stranger to enter.

"Very well. You may come in," I stated, chin so high I was probably staring at the steep ceiling. "Make yourself at home." I added, heavily on the sarcasm.

They probably did not understand sarcasm here.

I noticed then that the other inmates had gone silent, a pin could drop and I would hear it.

The being — I had resolved to call them this, instead of man — did make himself at home — that didn't last long... oh well, man it is. Ameline won't mind — settled on my broken and flattened hay bed.

"Neither of us have time. We have much to discuss." His outline seemed to shimmer, like he wasn't quite there. Like I was staring at his reflection in water.

I abandoned the tray idea, sat.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"It doesn't matter. As you must already know, any help I give is to ultimately help myself." He whispered, leaning close. His hand was on one of my crossed legs.

Yes, definitely a hand. Did that not make him human?

Then I remembered, like a wayward student, that I was supposed to always question their motives. I had been quite ready to befriend this being just because he had been able to get in my cell.

Always riddles. Ameline had said. They always lie, always an ulterior motive.

I tried to remember.

"Yes. You're right. What do you want in return for the help you give?"

"A boon." He stated, simply.

I was about to question what exactly a boon was, and what it entailed, when he persevered.

"But that doesn't matter. You'll have to trust me. I know the answer to your riddle."

My breath caught, quite literally, in my throat and I came up coughing hard. I hugged the sieve closer, as if it was a prized toy I had had since childhood.

"Do you want to know?" He asked. His hand was on my leg still.

"Yes."

"What are you willing to exchange?"

I thought for a moment, thought of the hand on my leg that he had immediately withdrawn.

"What would you like me to exchange?" I said, sweetly. I even smiled into the din, in case he was some kind of cat hybrid and could see well in the dark.