Shackled Serenity

by Leon Logos

  Only her memory would avail her now. Serenity began walking, advancing without looking back. This would only protract her time here and throw her off. She combated the stench, wondering how she had easily endured it before. The tunnels stretched on and on like a snake, presenting multiple paths and dead-ends. It was a maze. For Sixto, he had found the way through trial-and-error, not fully reliant on his vague memories to lead him. She figured this would be how she would succeed as well. Trial-and-error. And this was exactly how it turned out.

  “Come on!” she groaned, agitated at running into another dead end.

  She went back the path she traversed, making a left and continuing on. Nothing was familiar to her. The walls, the ground, it all looked the same to her. She heard the rhythmic drops of water coming from somewhere further ahead, the sound bouncing off the walls and traveling in all directions. Then there were other noises, presumably produced by gusts of wind. She had to persuade herself it was nothing hostile. Just the wind or the pipes. Then there was the scuttling of rats.

  “Where are you?” she whispered to herself, withdrawing herself from another dead-end.

  She was searching for the skull that Sixto had spray-painted years ago. If she was to find this, her task would be complete. More than once, her own shadow produced by the flashlight scared her to death. It was arduous to convince herself that there was nobody else in the tunnels but her. However, she wasn’t completely certain that she was alone. What if there were people in here? What if somebody was following her? The thought of being ambushed in the dark caused her to shiver and speed up. Along with fear, she was dealing with regret. There was a fierce debate ensuing in her mind if this was a futile mission. If she was acting foolishly.

  To her delight, the painted skull manifested into the light beam. Naturally, she looked to the left and found the narrow, low-ceilinged path.

  She gained consolation from the skull, trudging down the path without delay. Serenity was just the right height, able to stand up straight. She set down the box and pushed open the trap door. It took a couple of tries before opening completely, after one strong, final shove. She grabbed the box of food and tossed it up. Subsequently, she pocketed the flashlight and hoisted herself up. All those pull-ups she had been forced to do in the past helped her now, as they had granted her adequate upper-body strength. The odor and sight of the jailhouse had never been so pleasurable. Serenity left the trapdoor open, deeming it unnecessary to close. She would be back down soon anyway.

  The jailhouse was as hushed and dimly-lit as ever. She minced into the cellblock from the back, walking along the hall with the cells. The usual prisoners occupied the cells: the war prisoner, the sleeping old man, and—

  “Kyler!” she called, keeping her voice low. “Hey—no!”

  Kyler jumped up at the sound of her. He had been sleeping lightly at the corner of his cell, back leaned against the wall. But in one shattering moment, she realized he was in even worse, grotesque condition than before. It had slipped from her mind how Bastion had given him a beating. His eyes were swollen, rimmed red and purple. His skin was not its usual tone. Overall, his face was almost unrecognizable: swollen, smashed, and bloodied. His pants and sleeves were torn, exposing the arms and legs. They, too, were battered. Kyler crawled up to the front of the cell to greet her.

  “Was it that bad?” she whispered, in horror.

  “Just a tickle,” Kyler croaked, as if his larynx had been crushed.

  She knew it was his attempt at dry humor. He was broken. She could see it. His nonchalant, tough-guy attitude could not cover it up.

  “Can you even stand?” she asked.

  “I’ve never tried to,” he shrugged. “Should I?”

  “No, stay down,” she said quickly, afraid he might collapse.

  “So you’re back,” Kyler noted matter-of-factly.

  “I am,” she nodded, opening the box of food. “Have you eaten?”

  “This morning,” he replied. “But I spat it out. They put something in there even I couldn’t tolerate. I’m not a picky eater.”

  “I thought so,” she said, picking up a chicken breast. “I brought food.”

  “What happened to your face?” Kyler asked, confused, pointing.

  “Huh?” she said blankly, feeling her face blindly.

  It took her a moment to realize that he was merely referring to the makeup.

  “It’s just makeup, Kyler,” she said. “There was a dinner earlier.”

  She handed Kyler the chicken breast through a space in between the bars. Kyler grabbed it eagerly and began devouring it instantly. The way he tore the meat off with his teeth in alacrity testified how hungry he was. Not even Garen ate this eagerly and swiftly. He finished the chicken in under thirty seconds, discarding the bone. He looked at her expectantly, hoping for something else. She nodded, starting to pass on the food from the box one-by-one. She wished she had brought a napkin or plate to lay the food down on. But Kyler didn’t care, too hungry to care. He shoveled the loaves of bread into his mouth all at once and ate the beef patty in a single bite. He gobbled up the vegetables as if they were dessert.

  “I don’t have anymore,” she said, when he finished. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it, I feel much better,” he said dismissively. “How much did you risk coming here? Where’s that kid?”

  “I risked a lot, it wasn’t easy getting here,” she said. “And Sixto didn’t come. He wouldn’t have agreed if I asked again.”

  “What a coward,” he scowled.

  “It’s not that. He doesn’t like you.”

  “I don’t like him,” Kyler said flatly. “The feeling is mutual.”

  “Is there any word on Desmos?” she asked optimistically.

  “I was going to ask you the same thing,” said Kyler.

  She sighed, despondent at this news. It seemed like months since she last spoke to him. He was no longer missing to her, but possibly deceased. If they were interrogating him for this long, it meant that they weren’t satisfied. Knowing how tough and durable Desmos was, she knew he wouldn’t capitulate. Either not instantly or not at all. She tore her mind off of Desmos, focusing on Kyler who was across from her right now.

  “Have they told you what your sentence is?” she asked solemnly.

  “They haven’t spoken to me since that big guy whupped me,” said Kyler blandly. “It’s weird; I’m not sure what’s taking them so long…”

  “They’re going to execute you on the first of January,” she confessed, deciding to just let it out.

  Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been able to summon the strength to do it. After all, this was what she came for. Kyler looked at her, his indifferent expression lingering. There was no change in expression, not even a twitch. Just an empty stare. It was as if he had been expecting these tidings from the beginning.

  “How long is that from now?” he asked.

  “Seven days…” she responded, keeping her eyes on him.

  “Enough time,” he said, folding his arms.

  “For what?!” she cried. “They’re going to kill you in a week, man!”

  “I’m a prisoner, we both knew this would happen,” Kyler said cogently. “Don’t be surprised.”

  She could not dispute this logic. Serenity had known this sentence to be inevitable. She just couldn’t bring herself to accept it. She had pushed the thought of it aside to some lonely, dark corner of her conscience. She now knew why; a life without Kyler or the brothers, whether for the better or for the worse, was inconceivable. They dominated and encapsulated her past with a magnitude too profound and prolific to dismiss or forget.

  “Maybe I can convince them to spare you,” she proposed fancifully.

  Kyler nearly laughed out loud at this far-fetched suggestion.

  “Like they’d listen to you,” he rejoined. “You still think they’re your family? That they’re on your side? Get your head out of the clouds.”

  “If they wanted me hurt or dead, they would�
��ve done it already,” Serenity maintained. “I can’t let you stay here.”

  “You have a plan on busting me out?” Kyler said. “I’m listening.”

  “I don’t know,” she said indecisively. “I don’t know what to do…”

  “Do nothing,” he said forcefully. “Live your life. Preferably, a life with Aurelians out of the picture. They’re not trustworthy.”

  “Where am I supposed to go? They’re my only family!”

  “We were your only family, but that was yesterday…”

  “You guys admit I’m your family?” she scoffed. “It only took you, like, over ten years. Family is supposed to love and care for each other. You guys did neither. But the Aurelians? They accept me.”

  “Life isn’t fair,” Kyler pressed. “You think you’re going to live happily ever after? That you’re going to be safe and ‘loved’ forever? Think again.”

  “Why not?! I deserve it, don’t I? After a lifetime of hell!”

  “Maybe so, but not with these people,” said Kyler. “Did you come here to argue with me...? Because I don’t have the strength or the energy.”

  “No, I didn’t come here to argue,” she returned, calming herself. “Are you in pain? Because I’ve never seen you so messed up.”

  “Every part of my body stings or aches,” he said stoically. “I can barely sleep since it hurts so much. My tongue is parched, and my stomach feels hollow like a balloon. You didn’t happen to bring any water, did you?”

  “Shit!” she exclaimed, smashing her fist against the bars. “I’m sorry! I don’t know how I could be so stupid in forgetting!”

  “Whatever, I’ll manage,” he said, unconcerned. “I haven’t had anybody to speak to in days. These other two guys never speak.”

  She glanced back at the other two prisoners. The old man was still asleep. The other man was staring at them taciturnly, as usual.

  “You don’t like to speak anyway,” she responded.

  “How rich are the Aurelians?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “I can’t even begin to understand,” she said honestly. “It’s weird living like a monarch. They have everything and can get anything.”

  “If they’re so civilized and sophisticated, why am I rotting away in this shithole?” said Kyler roughly. “Shouldn’t I get a bedroom of my own?”

  “You’re a prisoner, just like you said,” she said reasonably.

  “You ever wonder how they got so rich?” Kyler asked seriously.

  “I never gave it much thought…” she said pensively. “Business, I think? I think the Aurelians have been wealthy for decades.”

  “Yeah, but HOW?” said Kyler critically. “Ask the right questions.”

  “It’s irrelevant, they have money,” she said indifferently. “It’s ridiculous how powerful they are. And Father planned to use US to take them down? It’s like ants battling elephants.”

  “We killed a lot of them, it was working,” Kyler said proudly.

  “Yeah, maybe six percent at most,” she scoffed. “Just forget about killing them, Kyler. Forget about fighting them. Maybe you should try to make peace with them. Reconcile!”

  “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” he said placidly.

  “I’m not kidding,” she urged. “Maybe I can persuade them to pardon you, promising that you’d change. To join us!”

  “Even if you tried, you think they’d agree?” Kyler glowered. “Our crimes against them are inexcusable. I’m sentenced to death. Period.”

  She couldn’t argue against this; it was incontrovertible reasoning. In her desperation, she sought improbable solutions to this predicament. There seemed to be no plausible way to liberate Kyler. To free him with the permission and authority of his captors. Which left only one option.

  “What if I help you break out?” she whispered, as if there were Aurelians in the room and she didn’t want them to overhear.

  Interest bloomed onto his stony face, appearing like magic. He leaned forward slightly, quizzically scrutinizing her eyes. He used to do this often when she said something witty, ridiculous, or incomprehensible. She frowned anxiously, waiting for his response in anticipation.

  “You’d be willing to do that?”

  “I hope so,” she murmured. “I think so.”

  “I need to know if you’re committed,” he said sharply. “And if it’s possible. You don’t need to risk your life doing something that’s impossible.”

  “It is impossible!” she declared reluctantly. “How am I supposed to do it? It was nearly impossible getting here, and it’ll be even harder getting back to my room! The security isn’t a joke! What do I have to do?”

  “You need a key,” a gruff voice replied.

  Serenity turned around. It was the other prisoner, the quiet one with the battle scars. The man that had been observing them from his cell the whole time, not bringing attention to himself. He had finally spoken.

  “A key?” she repeated. “What kind of key?”

  “A rusty, old, iron key,” said the man. “These cells are old; naturally, they’ll require something equally as simplistic to open. Look at the keyholes.”

  “Where do I find one?” she said earnestly.

  “The jailhouse guards carry them by their belt. But each Councilman has one as well. You live in the main house, don’t you? Find a Councilman and take his key. That’s what you’re looking for.”

  “Okay, thank you!” she said graciously.

  Kyler was not as pleased or convinced.

  “How do you know this? And why are you telling us this?” he said skeptically, narrowing his eyes as he usually did on a regular basis.

  “I know much about the Aurelian Family and the system that runs their little cult,” the man said, his tone contemptuous. “And ‘why,’ you ask? My information comes at a price. It’s only natural.”

  “You don’t utter a single word this whole time, now all of a sudden you open your mouth at the mention of a breakout plan?” said Kyler.

  “I’ll open your cell too, if I get the key,” Serenity nodded, fully understanding where the man was going with this.

  “Thank you,” he replied flatly, reverting back to his quiet self.

  “How do you know we can trust him?” Kyler said.

  “I don’t, but what reason does he have to hurt us?” she said rationally. “He’s in the same boat as you are. He has nothing to lose, only to gain.”

  “First, find this key,” Kyler whispered. “Bring it back, then we’ll decide what to do with him. You have seven days to—”

  “But wait,” she interrupted. “What next, if I do manage to break you out? I take you down that trapdoor, through the tunnels, and outside. What then? They’ll spot you from a mile away.”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” said Kyler calmly. “Go.”

  “I can stay a bit longer,” she said, disinclined to depart already.

  “No, you’ve served your purpose here,” he shook his head. “The faster you get back, the safer it is for you. Leave now.”

  Serenity rose to her feet, closing the box. She’d discard it once she got back outside. Kyler retreated back to his corner, wincing as he moved. His body was damaged substantially, requiring healing. She wondered if he had any broken bones but was unwilling to ask. He could handle it.

  “I’ll be back soon,” she promised. “Wait for me.”

  “Take your time,” he said slowly, closing his eyes to rest.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Getting back to the main house was twice as disconcerting as making it to the jailhouse. She had spent an hour down in the tunnels, trying to find her way out. It was difficult to retrace her steps, as it was too dark to remember her surroundings. When she finally did find the ladder, it was a relief inhaling fresh air after two hours. Serenity looked up at the sky, a subtle tint of orange brimming the edges of the clouds. Sunrise was nigh.

  Security seemed more plentiful this time around. She frequentl
y hid behind walls, bushes, wheelbarrows, and even statues. The patrols appeared to be slacking, talking among each other rather than keeping an eye on the area. She could’ve sworn one of the guards was drunk, staggering left to right.

  When she finally reached the courtyard leading to the open entrance of the main house, she scanned the area for guards. Once she ascertained that there were none, she dashed at full speed across. Her footsteps were loud enough for every nearby guard to detect, but she didn’t care.

  Serenity skidded to a halt inside, making a sharp right through the hall. She slowed down her pace, aware that it was too risky to run anymore. Her breathing regressed to its normal state, steady and passive. It was ten times more comforting being inside the building rather than outside. But she was still outside her room, with detection resulting in punishment.

  She went up the steps of the double-staircase with long strides, walking now as if she was returning to her room from a midnight snack in her house. Her door was just a couple of yards away.

  She grabbed her doorknob, twisted it, and opened the door. Suddenly, she heard a door open from the end of the hall to her left. Serenity turned her head, hand still on the doorknob. It was Lyla, in a nightgown, staring at her from her door with bitter, suspecting eyes.

  “Nightmare?” Serenity said, trying to sound casual.

  “No,” she replied sharply. “You?”

  “Nope.”

  “What’re you doing out of bed?”

  “I heard a sound,” Serenity lied on the spot. “Came to investigate.”

  “Really?” Lyla gasped, faking an astonished tone. “So did I!”

  “What do you want, Lyla?” Serenity asked exasperatedly, irritated at her blatant sarcasm. She knew Lyla detested her from the beginning.

  “I asked you a damn question,” she growled. “Why are you out of bed?”

  “I told you, I was investigat—”

  “Yeah, in those fancy pajamas!” she snarled. “Don’t give me that crap!”

  “Why is it always your business to know what I’m doing or where I’m at?” Serenity said crossly. “Leave me alone.”