The Wicked Ones

Chapter 8. In The Dark

In this godforsaken dungeon, Shadow could hardly sleep.

Day was no different from night. Everything was so dark all the time he could hardly see anything. Some cruel joke that he, Shadow, of all people, would hate it so vehemently. One would think it would be easy to sleep in a dimly lit room, but Shadow found himself fighting just to doze off, staring off into nothingness. And when he did sleep, he woke not knowing how long he'd been out. It always felt like a few hours.

However, the occasional visits from the Wither assassin told him otherwise. Without natural light to go by, the times he did fall asleep, he'd begun sleeping for almost two days straight. How long had he been in here again? Couldn't have been too long.

Wraith was really the only person who ever entered his cell. Shadow wondered why she bothered. If he had an escape plan, he would have used it by now. It gave him an excuse to talk, at least, to know that another being could hear him and that he wasn't just talking to a wall.

Even if it felt like it sometimes. She hardly acknowledged him directly, and when she did, it was usually with a strangely distant calculating look. That, he didn't like one bit. Since that first day, she hadn't spoken a single word to him.

Nether curse him, he wanted to hear something other than his own grating voice. Maybe he was just rambling in an attempt to goad her into some sort of interaction. Whether it was working at all, he had no idea.

Until today.

"If I'm going to die, I want to leave a mark." Shadow rasped, the faint clank of chains familiar enough by now that he'd stopped tensing up. "I don't want the rebels to fade into history, their stories never told and their dreams never realized. Did you hear Salia - the girl out on the battlefield when you took me? Did you hear what she said? "Do not let the revolution die as we did." I don't know what to do about it."

Her response was a disinterested humming sound. Fair enough.

Did he hate her? Shadow knew that he should. Maybe he still did, down in his soul. But right now, he was too tired. Of everything. He knew he was being prepared for execution. Were they trying to wear him down, break his spirit? If so, he was a bit worried to admit they were doing a good job of it.

"I was banished because I organized a coup against my father." He started again, closing his eyes against the growing ache in his temples. Telling his story? Maybe it was fitting. She'd probably be the only one to hear it, once this was all over. Might as well tell someone he knew could keep a secret. And lie. Maybe it would even earn her respect. "I wanted to overthrow him and establish a better leader. I planned to make myself Ender Lord."

It was only because of the eerie silence of the cell that he heard the assassin's faint, almost unnoticeable intake of breath. But her gloved hands didn't falter as she checked his restraints, never deigning to look him in the eye.

"The Ender Council advised mercy," he said, a bitter twist in his voice. "Because I was his heir. That's about the only good it ever did me. I wasn't executed for treason, but banished from the End and stripped of my rank." Shadow opened one eye when Wraith studied the locks around his wrists. That was the second time. Was she suspicious of something? "I found that Notch's rule had few differences from my father's."

"The Ender Lord is your father."

The unexpected voice was so jarring that he actually jumped a little, rattling the chains. Words. Actual spoken words. Good grief, it was about time. "He is." Shadow replied, ignoring the scratching of his throat. "Of all things, that broke your vow of silence?"

The last dregs of his courage faded away when she took a single curt step back and looked him dead in the eye. How could she be so unreadable all the time? She had no tics, no tells that he'd seen. "Yes. It explains a few things." Wraith said, then turned and twisted open the lock on the cell door.

"Wait."

Unsurprisingly, Wraith didn't turn around.

This was going to go against every instinct he had, but if Shadow had to be alone for much longer, he would likely lose his mind. He already tried coaxing a scrounging mouse over to him for companionship and failed. "You're the reason my soldiers are dead." Shadow said, and for once, his voice was steady. No visible reaction. He plowed on. "The least you can do is listen to me."

"You are hardly in a position for making demands." Wraith nodded pointedly at his chains, finally turning to face him. Shadow kept his head up, even going so far as to shrug. After all, what did he have left to lose?

A few seconds passed, and Wraith crossed her arms, leaning against the ragged stone wall. "Lucky for you, I'm bored, curious, and irritated. Bad combination. Yap your heart out."

Shadow blinked. And after a few seconds, he did. His father's kingdom, Ender energy, battle tactics he had yet to employ and likely never would. Even finer arts. Mentioning his interest in calligraphy had Wraith raising an eyebrow. But she didn't speak once. Not even when his voice became so hoarse he had to stop talking.

Shadow didn't particularly care - he'd been dying to have someone actually listen to him other than when he gave commands. He'd told Ranger once that leadership was a lonely thing. It was a small comfort that he'd been able to expel his thoughts before he was wiped off the face of the earth.

"I thought you'd try to bargain for your life. Or your freedom. Or perhaps better rooming conditions." Wraith mused once he fell silent. Only then did he wonder why he hadn't bothered. Her eyes fixed on him, and a casual, nonchalant smile tugged at her mouth. "You're slipping, Emman."

She left without another word, the lock clicking shut behind her.

Darkness closed in, and Shadow gaped at the empty space where she'd stood.

Emman.

No one, not a single person, had so much as uttered his given name in nine years. The sound of it was so foreign and yet so familiar. After he gained his reputation as the Shadow Prince of the End, time had shortened it simply to Shadow. His title was all he was, even after he ruined his chance at keeping it.

Shadow refused to let go, and made himself memorable in other ways - fashioned himself into a rebel Prince when his coup failed. And now his rebellion had failed as well. How had she known his name?

Right now, he should be plotting his escape. Snapping at guards. Trying to bribe them, sway them to his side, blackmail them, something other than allowing himself to slowly slip away. And yet...

"The only thing Shadow should fear is himself."

Darkness closed in.