Surrendering Isn't an Option

-Part 3-

Sitting on the soft and springy but somehow stone cold sheets of the bed, I looked into the eyes of the person in the mirror. The more I looked at him the more of a stranger he became. He hated everything, and hated his cell, hated the Neuros, hated his life. I could see it in his eyes. But I didn't hate all those things....did I? I slid off the ice bed onto the slate that lay beneath all our feet. I extended my hand and the boy in the mirror did the same. I placed my hand on the mirror, and the boy did the same.

Some time passed, as I rested my head on the bed, looking up at the white lighted chandelier-like structure hanging some few feet above me. I shut my eyes. The light was starting to irritate them. I stayed there like that for a while.

My eyes jerked open as an ominous knock on the door disrupted my empty mind. It became more impatient as I slowly arose from the floor and walked sluggishly towards the door, placing a hand on the nob, pausing for a fraction of a second, and opening it. The lark stood at my door, beads of water sparkling on his forehead.

"Where have you been?" I asked pointedly, eyeballing the sparkling jewels of water.

"Fancied a stroll in the mist, what do you think?" answered the Lark, angrily, "Come, human, follow."

"I have a name."

"You have as much a name here as I do!" yelled the Lark, waving his arms around quite madly.

"Where are you taking me?"

"To the king, now stay quiet!"

"What are we doing?"

"It's the King's business."

"Don't you know?"

"Yes!"

"Tell me."

The Lark turned around to face me, his face livid with anger. I didn't take a step back, i enjoyed making his life a pain. However wise this guy may be sometimes, that didn't stop him from being a balloon meant to be picked at.

The Lark went up close to me, jabbing me hard in the chest with his pointer finger, which bore a glittery ring.

"Listen, here, human! You have no place to speak when I tell you to stop!" He snarled, "I am Lark, the King's right hand man, why, I can have you thrown off the top of this castle if I pleased! So stop asking questions and shut it!"

I stopped asking talking but smirked in satisfaction. We walked down the hall into the large throne room, and through the door that I saw the King go through last time. Beyond the door was a small circular room, with a white spiralling staircase with no rails. With the Lark leading the way, we climbed up the stairs. Wherever it was leading to was far up, and i wasn't sure I could make is that far without toppling off the side of the stairs and dying. The beads of sweat (I wasn't sure how Neuros could release them through their scale, but I decided not to question it) largened on the Lark's forehead and dripped down the sides of his face. He didn't look like he was very fit at all, odd for someone who was always with the king. Wouldn't they have wanted someone more built for being a bodyguard?

I could see the ceiling much closer now, we were very close to it. My legs felt a little exhausted after the long climb, as I hadn't gotten too much exercise back in prison. My skinny limbs didn't seem to have the room for any muscles. Panting, I stepped up the last three steps and almost fell forward onto the landing, but it was nothing compared to the Lark, who was leaning forward on his legs. The nickname 'pufferfish' seemed especially appropriate for the moment. Trying to catch his breath, his scales stock out, showing his translucent skin more. His depressingly plain eyes were watery and bloodshot, though i admit, I don't think was entirely from the stairs.