Thomas was petrified, his breath became labored, and he felt a shiver down his spine. He immediately closed his eyes.
'Breathe.'
There was nothing left to observe in the cell. Taking part in this event could be an opportunity — in the end. Maybe he could even escape!
Thomas smiled and opened his eyes again, with his mind back in place.
The other prisoners were confused, but the mother and little girl were far from pleased. After all, a stranger they had mocked had just straight-up saved them. Was he insane? Why did they have to rely on a lunatic to survive a few more days — what was the point of all this? A bitter taste remained in their mouths — shame.
"Keh keh keh!" The old man was laughing hysterically.
Yes, Thomas was not only the guy who couldn't speak but also the biggest madman they'd ever seen.
The hooded guy took the large shackles from his belt and put them on Thomas. The manacles locked. His hands were bound in front of him. The shackles were simple, showing poor craftsmanship. They were made of raw iron and most of the connecting links were rusted.
Click! CLOAK!
The neck shackle that had chained him to the wall was finally unlocked — but the freedom it brought was nothing but an illusion.
"Yé io ba Ilgraa émi quat!"
"Rah! Yeah, yeah, I got it, dude, no need to repeat…"
The two headed toward the cell exit. Everyone stared at them. Their gazes shone with disturbing joy — pure madness. There was something absurd about being judged insane… in a nest of madmen. Thomas ignored their contempt. He'd truly be lost if he relied on the judgment of freaks.
Passing by the old man, he stopped for a moment and looked at him.
'You, you old geezer, you'll be the first one I gut when I'm free.'
"Ah, no! I know! Ahahahah… It's you who'll take part, I don't know how yet but it's definitely you!"
The old man looked at him, confused.
'Right, he doesn't understand me… Let's rephrase then.'
With an amused look, Thomas rephrased his thought for the old man.
"Yé io ba… Ilgraa… émi quat…" he said in a deep voice.
The old man's eyes widened, his pupils shook with incomprehension. His gaze, lost in thought, must seriously be wondering just how insane Thomas truly was. No, was he mad, or was he so lucid the old man couldn't even grasp it?
Thomas suddenly felt a strong pressure on the back of his neck — the guard's hand had landed there firmly.
"Ow, fuck!"
'Shit! Was I not supposed to mention Ilgraa or something?'
Silence fell in the room; the sudden void was worse than any words.
Eventually, the guard and Thomas exited the cell. The cell guard and the man who had come to take Thomas exchanged a few words. Thomas studied their conversation.
"Yé mia taba émi quat."
"Yé tu yurabi takibo ça!"
"Yé batu yu émi toba quat."
He understood nothing...
'I really need to figure out this language… I can't go on like this forever.'
Not understanding the language was such a strong form of social exclusion that Thomas felt like a coffee stain on a document — the content remained legible, but the stain never went unnoticed.
A few minutes later, Thomas and his shady-looking escort moved down a corridor. The corridor walls were rough as if the entire complex had been dug by hand. Thomas hadn't thought of it before, but they were probably underground.
'Problematic…'
They passed by several other rooms similar to the one where he'd been imprisoned. Each time they encountered another member of the organization, the two exchanged a phrase — probably to explain the reason for their movement. His escort's phrase was: Yé io ba blito ba Ilgraa émi quat. That probably meant something like: The one chosen by Ilgraa is being taken to the event. In any case, Thomas made sure to memorize each contextual phrase.
The air was humid — it had always been here — but now that the strong smell of the cell was gone, it became more noticeable.
Thomas finally noticed something interesting: all the authority figures here wore similar outfits. How were they supposed to distinguish ranks like that? Thomas hadn't heard any distinct titles used either... That's when he realized — the clasp on their belts was different. Some bore a symbol showing an open palm with a floating star above it, others had two. The guard at his side had two stars.
'What a champ! For a guy scarred to the bone, he's a beast.'
Sometimes on the walls, there were two types of drawings carved into the cold stone. The first type showed a smiling man in long noble robes giving something to a people — that something was depicted as a shining light. The second type was the opposite; it showed the people giving all their riches to the same man.
'Weird.'
The man in the red poncho stopped in front of a room's entrance and removed Thomas's shackles.
"Hey, am I free now?" he asked sarcastically.
The man looked at him confused, not understanding Thomas's language.
"Yé io ilto yutoro Ilgraa émi quat." replied the guard, pointing to a basket.
Thomas stared at him with a deadpan look before moving toward the basket. The basket was made of straw browned by time, but a wooden plaque with a drawing was affixed to one side. The image showed a pair of hands holding a bleeding heart. Seriously creepy.
"Ah, don't tell me this is émi quat or I'll be seriously disappointed…"
Thomas turned back to the guard with hesitant steps. The two stared at each other in silence for a moment before Thomas broke it.
"You know… I'm not into men… I'm not going on a picnic with you… Besides, you're really ugly."
Not waiting for a response, he opened the basket. Inside were a T-shirt and a pair of white shorts — perfectly white. The fabric was clearly high quality… Even the guards wore faded rags. Why was he suddenly being treated to such luxury?!
Thomas sighed, guessing where this was going. So he took the basket and entered the room without question. The room was small, with only a wooden bench, a towel, a bucket of water, soap, and a rag. Thomas smiled at the sight.
"Hell yeah! Émi quat every damn day!"
Even if he was happy to wash after stewing in filth for a while, Thomas knew this was no good omen. To him, this was likely some kind of preparation before the event — an event he clearly didn't want to attend.
Now clean and dressed in fresh clothes, Thomas finally exited the room, smiling. Outside, he noticed a second guard was present with another prisoner.
'So… It's a group event… Well then…'
Both guards had two stars. Maybe only members with two stars could escort prisoners to the event. A moment later, his guard approached and shackled him again. The other prisoner took his basket and entered the room, his gaze filled with fear and terror.
Thomas and his guard continued onward.
At some point, they reached a new section. Since entering this area, they hadn't crossed paths with a single person. If everything before had seemed dug out, this now looked like a natural cave that had been adapted. Mysterious light-blue crystals served as lighting. The previously humid air was even more so now, and droplets of condensation lined the rocky walls. In the distance, a massive chasm spanned the area, with a hanging wooden bridge connecting its two sides.
Floating above the chasm was something that defied logic itself. Thomas saw spheres — no, translucent orbs emitting a red glow. There were hundreds of them.
A strange feeling hit Thomas like a wave. In fact, the glow of the orbs was very similar to the light that emanated from his own body — their only difference was color.
Thomas and the guard, now alone before the hanging bridge, saw no one else around. The strange red orbs emitted faint, barely audible sounds. At one point, one of them drifted closer.
Panicked, Thomas tried to warn the guard, who clearly ignored the orbs — as if they didn't exist.
"Hey, you asswipe, look at that!"
Confused, the guard turned around. Even though he didn't understand Thomas's words, he got the message from his gestures. He frowned, searching for the issue. Seeing nothing, he slapped Thomas, thinking he was messing with him. Then he forced him to follow him onto the bridge.
"What the hell is your problem!"
"Yé batou grâ ciats!"
"Tsk! Alright, I get it, I'm crazy now, seeing flying things, me! Idiot!"
The orb was now only a few meters away. Thomas tried to ignore it, but after a short moment, a soft voice came from it:
"Hey? What kind of spirit are you?"
"What?"