Otherworld: A Son of Two Realms

Chapter 59: "The Prisoner"

       

The knights slammed the cell door shut and left the dungeon, taking the only torch with them. A barred window the size of a postcard let through the barest sliver of nightlight. In the stillness and the darkness, Jack could only sit and wait for his eyes to adjust.

The shadow of Alba lay curled against the wall on the other side of the cell, which was only a few feet away. Her forehead glistened with cold sweat that made her dress stick to her thin body. Even in the dark, Jack could see how much of her had wasted away.

Overcome by restlessness, Jack stood on his toes and peeked through the window. The spires of the White Palace's tallest towers peaked up like mushrooms but he could see nothing else of Ahkard. Even Guildron's radiant night sky was hidden behind a thick overcast.

Jack wondered if Kate was standing in a cell like this, looking through her own window. On some level, detached from reason or rational fear, Jack was disappointed at the clouds hiding Guildron's night sky. He would have liked for Kate to see the colors.

"You ran away," Alba whispered.

Turning away from the sky, Jack stared into the darkness as his eyes adjusted again. He hadn't heard Alba sit up in the corner of their cell.

"You opened the portal and ran through it." Her stared down, her brow furrowed like she was chasing the memory of a dream. "The magicborn screamed when you left. The shield collapsed and Wayland's mages couldn't fix it before Cera broke through the gates. They sacked the city. Hundreds died."

Jack sank to the floor, his legs giving out as her words sunk in.

"They split us up. I don't know where they took..." Her voice trailed off and she shook her head slowly. "Cera wanted our magic. He stole it from us. We knew it was happening but we couldn't resist. He made us keep trying and trying for..." She finally looked to him. "How long?"

"Two years."

Silently, emotionless, Alba considered the number. But how do you make sense of two years suddenly gone? How do you process so much of your life lost?

"Why did you return, Jack?" Apparently, Alba didn't want to process it at all. "You're dressed like one of us. Not like last time."

Jack moved over to sit next to her. He took it as a good sign that she didn't lean away as he leaned against the wall. "Cera has a friend of mine. She stumbled into Guildron just like I did and I came to rescue her."

Alba looked around their cell.

"Yeah," Jack said, resting his hands on his knees. "I didn't plan ahead. Also my guide apparently got lost."

"So you didn't come back for us?"

She had looked at him with the same eyes two years ago, at the moment she realized that Jack was leaving. The same eyes, heavy with disappointment, that had haunted Jack's dreams ever since. Twice Jack had come to Guildron. Twice he had failed to live up to his prophecy.

I'm so sorry, Jack thought, though he knew voicing it would do no good. Nothing he could say would ever make Alba whole again or erase the last two years. Without waiting for his reply, Alba turned away, resting her head in the corner of the cell.

As Jack sat in the silence, his fingers found the hard line of his father's pen, still hidden in his cloak. At the very least, Jack would return with a few new plot lines for his book.