Skye stared at the feast, mouth watering. His fists clenched on his lap as he barely restrained himself from diving in. By the window, Ficar and the doctor wrapped up their conversation.

  “Did you guys know Duchess Cleora and Chief Akunai’s wedding is on Green Harvest’s Eve?” Rierana asked cheerfully, placing a bowl of soup on the table.

  Ficar tapped her head, startling her. “Bad topic,” he said.

  Rierana blinked, then turned to Lyonel as realization struck her. “Oh, Lyonel, I’m so sorry.”

  “I-it’s alright,” Lyonel said, nails digging at a wart under the table.

  Skye squinted. Dray had reacted terribly to the wedding news, but he hadn’t expected Lyonel to be against it too.

  “Stop picking and go wash your hands,” the doctor chided, before turning to Skye. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I can finish all of this by myself,” Skye confessed.

  Laughter filled the room as everyone took their seats. A moment later, Skye’s mouth was stuffed with curry and rice, and yet he still managed to cram in bread too. Beside him, Mirio ate with even more gusto, as though he had been the one imprisoned.

  With a few monstrous bites, the big warden cleared his plate and went for thirds. Ficar and the doctor resumed their talk about the barons’ plan to expand Florald District to house more cattle, while Lyonel and Rierana barely touched their food. Jella was in the storeroom, fetching salt.

  “Mirio, slow down,” Ficar said. “You’re making it look like we have a famine at warden HQ.”

  “I think he’s worried that roasted dodo will come back to life and fly away if he doesn’t finish it fast enough,” Lyonel quipped.

  “No, you misunderstand,” Rierana interjected. “He’s making the case for why we need the new district all on his own.”

  Gesturing wildly, mumbling, Mirio gave what could have been a most clever retort to everyone’s jibes. Unfortunately, his mouth was full of food, and no one understood a word.

  “Leave him alone, all of you,” the doctor said with a smile. “Mirio’s just giving his compliments to the chefs.”

  Mirio clapped loudly and pointed at the doctor, then gave two enthusiastic thumbs-up to Rierana.

  Skye’s spoon felt like it weighed a ton. He set it down at the table.

  A thin line of steam drifted up from his bowl of soup, filling his head with the sweet scent of spice. He blinked and the world morphed. Tiled walls melted into rough, damp stone, and the people around became skeletons. The flutter of Redeyes’s wings filled his ears.

  He shook his head, but only fragments of reality leaked back. Insects crawled across the table. Ficar, oblivious, picked up a cockroach-covered slice of bread and ate it whole. Lyonel’s skin had rotted away, his skull cracked open, his brain exposed, like Ritsy’s. Rierana’s face was charred, her eyes reduced to black pits.

  Gripping the edge of the table to steady himself, Skye shut his eyes. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. He’d escaped the dungeon, yet a part of him was convinced he was still trapped there in the dark. He wasn’t free; couldn’t be. Not when he couldn’t enjoy a simple meal. Not while everything reminded him of that place. If only everyone shut up for a second and let him think in peace! If only Redeyes stopped scratching and flapping his misshapen wings…

  “Enjoying the food?”

  The bat landed on his shoulder. Screaming, he jumped, slamming into the table and spilling his soup. Heart-racing, he twisted to find Jella, blinking in surprise, her hand an inch from his shoulder.

  “Get away from me!” he shouted.

  “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you!”

  The room spun, everything turning white as a photrine for an instant. Mirio, Lyonel, and Jella caught him before he struck his head against the table, easing him back into his chair. The doctor was at his side instantly, shining gemlight into his eyes, checking his pupils.

  “Is he alright?” Rierana asked, leaning over the table on her tiptoes.

  “Just low blood pressure from standing too fast,” the doctor said, pressing fingers to Skye’s wrist. “Nothing to worry about. Continue your dinner.”

  After apologizing several times over, Jella returned to her seat. The table fell silent. Even Mirio slowed his eating.

  Skye stared at his feet as someone wiped the mess in front of him and refilled his bowl. He felt the weight of their eyes on him and wished they’d leave him alone. Wished they’d forget about his outburst.

  ’You have the bell,’ Redeyes reminded. ‘That’s a wish you can realize.’

  “Everything is going to be alright,” Rierana said from across the table. “You’re safe now.”

  Skye glared up at her, jaw clenched. Easy for her to say so; she didn’t see the wardens create an elexos in the Deeps, didn’t hear them conspire to attack the city.

  “The wardens will catch those who harmed you,” Lyonel added. “They’ll make sure they’re punished.”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  This was an even stupider claim because wardens were the Void-spawned criminals in all of this insanity.

  “You’re strong and brave, Skye,” Jella said, smiling gently. “You’ve been through so much, and you survived. We’re all proud of you.”

  Skye nearly retched. He didn’t appreciate being reminded that he’d been bedridden again, forced to lie in shame while others fed him and cleaned his filth.

  “Give it time,” Ficar added. “You’ll feel better in the upcoming days. Soon you’ll forget this ever happened.”

  No. Everyone and everything but Skye would forget this had happened.

  “Relax, son,” Dr. Stenser said. “Eat your fill. Your body needs the strength.”

  His leg shook under the table violently, rocking his chair. He wondered how in the Void he was supposed to relax when death loomed over everyone he loved.

  “You guys don’t get it,” Mirio said. He wiped his mouth, then turned to meet Skye’s eyes.

  “I know how you feel. You’re angry. Angry at the people who hurt you. Angry at everyone for not saving you sooner. But mostly, angry at yourself, for letting it happen. I don’t care what series of events brought you to that cave. No one deserves what you went through. Take it easy on yourself; it’s not your fault.”

  Skye realized his face was contorted in a painful grimace. He unclenched his jaw, forcing himself to breathe.

  “You want justice and that’s perfectly normal,” Mirio continued. “If you believe the people who did this are untouchable, you’re wrong. They will be caught. I promise.”

  Skye had to scowl to fight back tears. “How?” he asked, his voice choked. “It’s impossible.”

  “We can make it possible. Help us catch them,” Ficar said, tone edged with urgency. “Tell us everything you remember. Do you know who your captors were? Where they kept you? What they looked like, their names, how many are they, anything?”

  Skye wanted to scream at the wardens because they made less sense than a bunch of dead skeletons. This investigation was futile; the bell could ring at any moment. Relying on others for help was a waste of time and hope. He could count on no one but himself.

  “We’ve been asking everyone about you since you were brought here, but no one seems to know you,” the doctor added, repeating what he’d said when Skye first woke up in this house. “Do you have a family we can contact?”

  Skye’s head almost burst from trepidation. He had to leave. Now, before his bell got him in trouble.

  “Let’s stay on track,” Mirio said. “We found you far into the Deeps beyond the stonebear’s den. Was the place you were kept at nearby? Do you know how long you’ve walked after you escaped?”

  A chill went down Skye’s spine. He turned to Mirio, blood rushing away from his face. Mirio asked more questions, but he could only hear the agonized screams in the Deeps, see the shadowed faces of the wardens who’d created an elexos. Who’d killed his teammates.

  “What were you doing in the Deeps?” Skye asked, interrupting Mirio.

  Mirio blinked. He cleared his throat, suddenly uneasy. “We were, umm… visiting-“

  “We were on highly classified warden duties,” Ficar intervened.

  Skye remembered all the wardens he’d confronted about the incident in the Deeps and how they accused him of lying and tried to arrest him. Dray’s lead had put him through much suffering and almost got him killed. He couldn’t risk trusting wardens again. No matter how good they pretended to be; there was always the chance they were part of the group that planned to attack the city.

  Pushing back his chair, he stood.

  “Thanks for taking care of me,” he said, turning toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” Rierana called.

  “Wait!” Ficar shouted.

  On trembling legs, he hurried away, not looking back. He’d wasted enough time here already. He didn’t have a destination in mind, but he had to leave this place. He coveted going to the surface to watch the night’s stars, but that wouldn’t achieve anything. He wanted to head toward the Scar, walk toward the edge and never stop. But that seemed redundant at this point. The skeletons had said it best; death was inevitable.

  Mirio blocked his path, stepping in front of the door. “Skye, stop. Let us help you.”

  “Move,” Skye said, summoning his bell. He didn’t want to ring it in front of everyone, didn’t want to hear their gasps and screams. But he really needed to go away.

  “I understand you’re hurting,” Mirio said. “But, believe me, we’re hurting too. Let us help. Please.”

  “I said move!” Skye repeated, voice trembling.

  Mirio placed his hands on his shoulders. “We care about you, Skye. Believe in us. Believe in yourself.”

  A single tear broke free. Skye rubbed his face hard, trying to hold back the rest. When he glanced over his shoulder, the others were staring at him, pity plain in their eyes. Lyonel scratched madly at his warts, blood streaking his fingers.

  “You don’t understand,” Skye said, almost screaming the words, voice hoarse. “Nothing ever works because nothing matters. Catching them won’t change a thing. Punishing them won’t revive the dead. Everyone will die eventually, so what’s the point of trying?”

  He stopped, gasping for air. Rierana looked on the verge of tears. Everyone else sat stunned.

  “Everyone’s so sooting conceited they don’t see it, but we’re no better than all the pests we step on every day. We’ll petrify in the ground, end up as corpses, doing nothing for eternity.”

  After a moment of silence, the wardens and Stenser started blathering, trying to object, to reason, to fix. None took a moment to contemplate what he’d just said.

  He spoke over them. “So what if the elexii entered the city and butchered everyone? You think a few jokes and a hot meal would fix anything?” His laugh was bitter. “What’s the difference between me dying back there and being here now? It’s all the same. Don’t you see? … Life is meaningless.”

  Feeling cathartic, he pressed at his chest, trying to stop his heart from bursting. Mirio stood his ground, not giving way. Having no other choice, he reached for the tether of his bell.

  “Then make your own,” Stenser said. Everyone turned to the doctor, including Skye. “If you believe your life doesn’t have a meaning, create one.”

  Skye frowned, not comprehending the drivel he was hearing.

  Stenser rose to his feet. “When I was your age, a disease swept through Troqua. I lost most of my family. Thousands died. The illness was curable, but there were no doctors who could help. That’s when I decided to study medicine. I chose to learn, to fight for people’s lives. That gave me meaning.”

  Ficar nodded. “I became a warden because I like the thrill of it. Mirio’s a warden because they pay well, and he likes food.”

  “I won’t deny that,” Mirio admitted.

  “You have the power to choose,” Jella added. “Your life doesn’t have to be pointless.”

  “Yes, you’re free now,” Rierana said. Across from her, Lyonel stopped rubbing his hands, nodding vigorously.

  Skye stared up at the ceiling, trying to imagine the sky far above. Somewhere deep in his mind, Redeyes laughed.

  “At every juncture in your life, you can make a choice,” Stenser said. “You can choose to look forward to the good things in your future,” Stenser said. “To falling in love, starting a family. Or you can lock yourself in the past, spend your life in a hole in the ground, and cry to sleep every night. But if that’s your choice, don’t blame the rest of us for being happy.”

  Skye swallowed, his throat dry. “What if you can’t get what you want?”

  “Then get what you can,” Stenser said. “And cherish it.”

  Skye’s body went numb. The fight leaked out of him like air from a punctured balloon as he realized the hidden consequences of Stenser's advice. He let Mirio guide him back to the table.

  They resumed eating in silence. Tableware clacked, mouths chewed, and Skye held his spoon staring at nothing while his soup went cold. After the meal, the wardens thanked the Medhars and promised Skye again that justice would come.

  **********