The cell he was locked in with Lynn Jhono was shrouded in darkness. A small candle the captain had allowed them to take in was their only source of light. The air felt heavy inside, as if the door had not been opened in years. It made it difficult to breathe.
Water dripped from the ceiling and collected in puddles between the old grimy stones. The continuous, monotonous drip was making Tomas more and more uncomfortable as the hours wore by.
Lynn sat across from him and had remained silent since being thrown in. Deep in thought, it seemed.
No matter how much he forced the thoughts away, the images of Rilan’s death continued to flash through Tomas’s mind. He replayed every detail- the thick, pristine snow, the gargling sound of Rilan choking on his own blood, the stench of Ref’s odour as Tomas tackled and beat him half to death.
Rilan’s helmet.
Tomas gritted his teeth. Rilan’s helmet, which had once belonged to his father, had been knocked from his head and was laying in the snow beside him after he had fallen.
That helmet meant something to Rilan- an heirloom of his deceased father. It was special, not only to Rilan but to Tomas as well. He recalled the night Rilan had saved him from his father, the helmet atop his shadowy figure having convinced his father to let Tomas go lest there be consequences.
Tomas could not help but wonder where it was now.
Was it still in the snow, beside Rilan’s slowly-decaying corpse, just waiting for some lucky passer-by to pick it up? Had a band of looters come across the site and taken it for themselves?
It pained Tomas to think that he had let Rilan down so heavily.
I failed him. I could not save him in time. I couldn’t even remember to pick up and take with me the one thing he cared about.
Tomas peered up over his knees, glaring at Lynn across the other side of the cell through the dim light.
All this, for her.
He could not hold back his emotions, sinking back into a pit of despair. He pulled at his hair. He clawed at himself, feeling his dirtied nails drag and burn across his skin, trying to do anything to make the pain go away.
All this, for her.
“Are… are you alright?” Lynn murmured from out of nowhere.
Tomas looked up at her again, tears rolling down his face. He had been whimpering. He did not know how to respond, instead choosing to wipe his face and close his eyes back up.
“For what it’s worth, I wanted to say that I’m sorry about your friend,” Lynn said. “The one you mentioned earlier, who died on your way here. I am truly sorry that others had to die to help me. I… I never wanted that.”
Tomas still did not reply. Even if he wanted to, what would he say?
“You and I are not so different, I believe. I’ve lost everyone I know because of this place,” Lynn admitted. “My family, my friends, my mentor, Magister Aymeir. He was like a father to me. The only person I could ever truly rely on after my parents gave me up. I have no one left but myself now.”
Tomas could recognise the pain in her voice, even as he fought to keep his sympathy at bay. He could not refuse, however, that it was as if she were speaking words that were continuously ringing in his own mind.
“You have to believe me when I say that I had no part in what was going on at the Repository or the thing that killed your friend. Those children, the Blight. I was trying to stop it.”
Lynn played with the vial of black liquid around her neck as she spoke, like a nervous habit. Tomas decided to address it, on top of wanting to put an end to the sympathetic strategy he thought the woman was playing.
“What is that stuff?” Tomas asked, finally breaking his silence. “I heard Magisters carry them around their necks.”
“And why would I tell you that?” Lynn clutched it tightly in the palm of her hand, clearly protective of it.
“We are probably going to die here anyway. And right now, I’m trying to come up with decisions not to off you myself.”
Lynn gulped, drawing her lips to a thin line.
Tomas felt bitter towards her, sure, but he questioned whether he would even follow through with the threat.
“I have something like that myself, you know?” Tomas said, thinking of the key he carried with him, taken when Gharland had first had him apprehended.
“Believe me, you don’t have anything like this,” Lynn said.
“Mine is a key. I’ve carried it with me most of my life. I never take it off.”
“Then where is it now?”
“Captain’s got it. It was confiscated when they arrested me.”
Lynn nodded, her tension easing. “What’s the key for?”
“You tell me about yours, I’ll tell you about mine.”
Lynn played with the vial between her fingers. The viscous, black substance within sloshed around.
“Our Magister Prime, Impatus Rumanos, is a very old man. He oversaw the Imperium for most of his life. He researched other worlds and different dimensions, starting long before you or I were even born. He became drawn to it, and eventually I believe he became obsessed. Other Magisters were tasked within this field of research, under his command,” Lynn said, before holding out the vial. “This was one of the many findings the Imperium made.”
Tomas raised an eyebrow, suddenly curious. All the talk of research and other worlds seemed outlandish to him, yet he was curious to hear more.
“It’s called Blight,” Lynn began, her eyes locked to the vial. “The Magister Prime believed
