Page 7 of Four Ruined Realms (The Broken Blades #2)

Tiyung

Idle Prison, Yusan

I’m not certain how long I’ve been in this dungeon. It could be only a few days or maybe a full sunsae. I rub my growing beard. From my scruff, I think it’s been at least a week.

There’s no sunlight in here, which is to be expected in a prison under a lake. But there are also no bells. No normal routine. No way to mark the passing of time.

It’s maddening but better than death. So far.

When the guards pulled me from the palace and walked me to the water’s edge, I thought maybe I wasn’t going to prison at all. As I waited, I feared I’d be fed to the iku—the monstrous creatures that inhabit the deep water of Idle Lake. I prayed to the gods to save Sora and to have mercy on my soul.

I hope they answered the first prayer because they didn’t seem to hear the second.

As the guards held me by the shore, stone walls rose through the surface of the mirror lake. The water receded and a black staircase came into view, leading all the way down to a door in the lake floor—the entrance to Idle Prison. The most secure place in all of Yusan.

It looked like the gateway to the Ten Hells.

With my head high, I forced myself to walk down the steps and not suffer the indignity of being dragged. I looked up as I descended, trying to savor the purples and oranges of the sunset, to remember the daylight, but it hasn’t done much good. Sunlight and hope are now distant memories. I promised Sora I would make it through anything, yet I’ve learned it’s far easier to spout brave sayings than to live them.

Not that I’ve had to be brave. Not exactly. I thought I would be tortured when the prison doors closed. Instead, I’ve been left to rot in a circular, smooth stone cell. It’s a different kind of torment—to be completely alone with nothing but my thoughts. I haven’t spoken to another human being since I was placed inside here. Sometimes, I hear the wails of other men. I have called out, but I must be too far away for anyone to answer me.

Or no one cares.

My cell is large but dark and dank. There’s a transom window around thirty feet off the ground, but it casts almost no light in here. The only light I do have is from the oil torches in the hall, visible through a six-inch meal slot.

Meals are served at random times, but the uncertainty doesn’t matter much when the food is infested. I ate the first tray I was served, and I was sick for days after. The ten skulls lining the ledge at the top of this cell watched as I retched and nearly soiled myself. I stick to the stale bread and water now. My stomach twists and growls in constant hunger, but I won’t touch the other food again.

The walls around me suddenly shake. It happens from time to time as moaning causes tremors. The moaning is not human, though; it’s from the iku calling to each other in the lake. Sometimes it’s mournful. Sometimes it’s excited. I suspect the higher-pitched, sharp sounds occur when they hunt. I always hope it’s an animal and not a person, but there’s no way for me to know for certain.

Still, I tell myself stories. About the iku, about anything to keep my mind occupied. I’m twenty-two and have lived a full life with a variety of memories to recall, but I wonder how long I can hold on to sanity. There are no books. No ink and paper with which to write and not enough light to do so. Being alone isn’t new because my father felt friends were a liability, but I always had my studies. Here, I don’t even have that.

All I’m left with is wondering how long I’ll ultimately be in here. By now, my father must know his plan failed. How many days will they keep me hostage? How long before they no longer need me as leverage and execute me?

As the thought enters my head, noises resound outside of my cell—murmuring and footsteps. The metal cranks turn on my door, and I scurry to my feet. The room spins; the sudden movement makes me dizzy. I shake my head and try to stay alert.

The hinges creak, and I back up, my heart frantically racing as the door opens. I put my hands up, my mind filled with both fear and hope. Maybe my father has ransomed me and I will get to leave. Or maybe it’s time to die.

Either way, it seems my time is up.

A flaming torch enters the darkness. The light sears my eyes. I fall backward onto the stone floor and scramble away as I put my hands over my face. There’s a sigh and some mumbling before the door slams shut again.

But I’m not alone. Someone is in here with me. I can hear them breathing.

When the pain subsides, I slowly move my fingers so I can try to adjust to the bright light. It takes longer than expected for my vision to return at all, but then I can see again…somewhat.

Instead of the fire torch, there’s now a small oil lantern on the ground, as far from me as possible. Before I was in this cell, I would have called the light dim, but now it seems like broad daylight.

Once my eyes fully adjust, I get a look at the person next to the lamp. I shake my head. So much for clinging to sanity. Standing there, in my cell, is Hana—one of the girls my father trained as a poison maiden.

And Hana died years ago.