Page 34 of Reign of the Talon
For Eunbi. For Rui. For the victims of this senseless war.
And maybe for myself, too.
Breathing hard, I plant one fist on the cold ground of my cell. And the other. Gritting my teeth, I push myself up.
One last time.
…
I scrutinize my prison with something more than the eyes of a prisoner who has given up all hope.
I look at it with the eyes of an assassin who has infiltratedcountlessSunpo prisons—and escaped, with the target either safely in hand or dead in their cell.
It is a small cell, cold and damp and dank. The stone walls are bare when Rui’s door does not appear. The cracks between the stones are small, more fissures than anything.
The bars are made of some cold sort of metal. At least, that is how they appear. This is no physical realm. It is a mental realm—but for all purposes, the bars seem like metal, so I will think of them as such…if only to preserve the few remnants of sanity I have left. The spaces in between each bar are barely enough for one of my arms to stick through. There is a lock, I believe, that has seven keyholes. But I have never seen the keys.
Perhaps I need to find them.
Past the bars is the Dalgyal Gwisin.
And I can make it bleed.
Behind it is a dungeon. I have not always paid attention to it, with its dark shadows and cracked, grimy ground. My goal, when I peer past the bars, has always been to un-focus my attention and therefore reach the eyes that used to be mine. But now, when I look through, I take stock of the narrow dungeon hallway…
And the slight right turn at the very end of it, underneath an arch of cobwebbed obsidian.
It looks as if it is the very beginning of a staircase. I can make out the dark shadows that compose the first step.
A stairway.
A…way out?
Narrowing my eyes, I wrap a hand around one of the cell’s bars. It is icy cold and bites into my warm palm. The Dalgyal Gwisin cocks its head at me, almost as if it knows what I’m thinking. How my mind is beginning to stitch together the dregs of a plan.
One that I cannot do alone.
…
My soul-stitched sits across from me, his hand outstretched toward mine.
For a long time, I do not take it.
But then, I…I do. Gods help me, I do.
For his fingers have begun shaking with the effort of remaining outstretched, and those minute tremors break the remaining fortifications around my heart. I take his hand in my own, and his palm is more calloused now, hardened by war and weaponry, but it is still the hand I remember. Long, elegant fingers and that ring, that silver ring that matches the one I once wore. I squeeze his hand, and he inhales sharply.
The pulsing mass of bitterness within me as I look at him is no more. I blamed him for what happened to Eunbi, but that blame… It was so terribly misplaced. I can see that now…canallowmyself to see it. Fault falls on me. Me.
Yet perhaps it is not too late to redeem myself to my little sister before we die. That is what I focus on, blocking out the Dalgyal Gwisin’s taunts.
Anticipation builds within me for what I must ask. My heartbeat quickens almost painfully; my stomach is a bundle of nerves. If this does not work, I do not know what will.
Steeling myself, I slip my hand from Rui’s. He reaches for it like a child reaches for an elusive butterfly. This moment is what I have been working up my courage for…this one request.
Now, now is when I ask for—
I hesitate a moment too long.
