Captain Scarvguard advised Soren to be as good as he could be, as his trial was scheduled for the end of the week.
Until then, he would stay and serve as a prisoner of the Blackspire Bastion.
Surprisingly, before he left, Captain Scarvguard turned to him and said, "Be careful."
Those words had aning Soren could not figure out.
Not now at least.
Regardless, he was allowed to visit the infirmary before he was escorted back into the prison proper.
Once again, he was wrapped in fresh bandages. And even got his shoulder popped back into place.
The guard leading him was the sa an one as before.
Billy.
Soren had learned the na quickly—mostly because everyone spat it with either fear or disgust.
Billy was one of the most corrupt guards in Blackspire Bastion. Corrupt enough to accept bribes. Corrupt enough to look the other way when riots started in cafeterias.
As he led Soren through the brightly lit corridors, Billy muttered curses under his breath.
Soren had a feeling the cafeteria incident had earned him a reprimand.
Good.
The prison cells were numbered and lettered in descending order.
As Billy led him forward, so prisoners stared through the only opening on their cell doors—a vertical slit, just high and wide enough to peep from and be a nuisance.
So conversed with each other through the slits, so declared their love for their partners across the hallway, and so others were just creeps.
One man with yellowed teeth pressed his face to the slit and chuckled.
"Ohhh, you’re in real trouble, boy. Real trouble. They’re coming for you. You won’t even see your trial day... hehehe."
Soren glanced at him briefly, then looked away.
He was too tired to care.
Between the pain, the hunger, and the sheer weight of the day, exhaustion pressed down on him like a physical force.
Finally, they got to his cell.
A311.
With a set of tallic clicks, the door opened automatically, Billy uncuffed him, and pushed him inside.
Soren stumbled in.
"Hey," he muttered, steadying himself, "don’t I get any dinner?"
Billy raised the middle finger at him. Then he left, keys clinking by his waist as the sliding doors automatically closed and locked on their own.
"Insufferable fool." Soren cussed.
While the hunger was still there, he had felt far worse before.
But with everything that happened, getting so nutrients in his body would have been good.
It sucked to be powerless in such a situation. At least back ho he could hunt for rat at to make soup.
The thought made his tummy grumble a bit.
"Breeeeaaad..." a groaning voice ca from behind.
Soren jumped.
The cell was dark—only faint light spilled in from the hallway slit. That was why he hadn’t noticed anyone else inside.
Instinctively, his fingers reached for the wall, tapping, searching for the light switch.
Click.
"SHIT!"
Soren recoiled violently, slamming back against the cell door.
"Keep it down!" a guard shouted from outside
Keep it quiet? How was he supposed to do that?
In the center of the room sat a massive figure, legs crossed in a lotus position.
Dragon.
The helt was back, but this... this was definitely him.
No other person in this prison was that wide, muscular, or tall.
Even sitting down, he was easily Five feet, and that was only because he was hunched over.
But why?
What did he do for them to put him in the sa room with a man capable of ripping out a man’s neck like a starving lion.
Soren felt his breathing climb. Even in his peak state, it was impossible to fight off such a monster.
"Breeeeaaad..." Dragon spoke again, pushing the wooden plate forward with a finger the size of Soren’s palm.
In it was a half eaten loaf of bread.
Soren was skeptical. Of course he was. Even now, he could rember the blood and gore trickling down Dragon’s face.
And now, that sa person was offering him bread?
As if understanding Soren’s fear, he shifted back a bit.
"Breeeeaaad...!" He pointed. Louder now.
Obviously getting mad that Soren was not taking his offering.
"Sure, okay. I heard you the first ti." Soren took a careful step forward.
Pissing off a person capable of juggling with your kidneys was not a good idea.
If taking the food they offered cald them down, then hell yeah.
But still...
"Uhh... If I eat that," Soren pointed to the bread. "You are not gonna... like, use my innards as toppings, right?" He gave a forced smile.
Dragon pulled back again in response.
Soren nodded.
Swallowed hard.
He leaned in, eyes still on Dragon—he pulled the plate closer—slowly—then reached for the bread.
"Well... that’s it. I have taken it!" His forced smile got wider.
"Eat!"
Soren swallowed hard again. But he still did as instructed.
As the bread closed in on his mouth, Dragon leaned in—as if to know if Soren liked it.
He chewed slow at first, then the sweetness sank in.
His eyes widened. "Oh, this is good... really good." Soren forced more into his mouth.
Dragon giggled.
Actually giggled.
Soren did not believe his ears. Only now did he look properly.
Beneath the mountain of muscle—curves.
"...You’re—"
She reached under the bed and pulled out another plate. This one held an even larger loaf, freshly baked.
She pushed it to him. Soren approached. That bread had excited his taste buds, kicking his fear to the back.
Besides, it was not like he had not seen blood before.
He sat in front of her, digging into the bread.
She giggled so more.
"Yoooouuu...liiiiikkkkeee?" She asked, tapping her index fingers together, eyes averted.
Soren could not see her face, but he could tell that she was blushing.
Damn, he made Dragon blush.
He nodded, mouth full, "this is good, really good."
"I... maaaadddeee it." She replied.
"Oh, you did?" He blinked. "I didn’t know they let prisoners bake."
She shrugged slightly.
Also, with those big hands, how did she manage it?
The more they conversed, the easier it beca. Soon, Soren was chuckling with her.
He even found out her na.
Cynthia.
Although she stated clearly that no one called her that in here.
She looked very pitiful.
If not that Soren had seen what she could do, he would have assud she was a fragile thing.
Well, at least she had a fragile heart.
Lights-out ca fast and they retired to their beds.
Cynthia curled onto her small bed, legs hanging off the edge, tal fra bending beneath her weight. She slept clutching a tiny blanket, peaceful despite everything.
An adorable sight.
Soon, the entire prison had gone silent.
Soren laid on his bed, hands behind his head.
His mind was filled with a lot of things. Too many things had happened to him in such a short ti.
From Touching the Glass to the Eldritch soul that wanted to consu his town, to Machos’s death, an instructor that wanted to take him as a pet while aiming to kill his friends, and now prison.
It was too much for a boy of just 16.
At least physically he was. But his mind had matured more.
At least enough to know that the world was a cruel place.
A really cruel place.
Still, he could not help but wonder if Machos would be pissed at him for his current situation.
After all, it was not like he had a choice. It was either kill or be killed.
And now, he had learned that they were going into the Glass tomorrow.
Soren knew that Soul cha pilots went to that place a lot. But he never thought that he would be going there so early.
Now that he thought about it, he knew next to nothing about inside the glass, other than that it was a major source of resources for the Almace Empire.
And then he rembered soone had.
The Discipline of Sorrow.
He reached inside his orange jumpsuit for the book.
The room’s light was off, but through the vertical slit leading to the hallway, he was provided with enough light to read...
(Author’s Note: Wait is it just , or does Soren have a habit of attracting really strange people?)
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