Heart of a Monster

A long shadow stretched across the clean hallway floor as the automatic door slid open. Only the hum of the air conditioning could be heard throughout the well-illuminated hall until the owner of the shadow began to proceed through the room. Loud clicking of shoes echoed from one end of the hallway to the other. Rhythmic clicking of shoes on tile flooring continued for a full thirty seconds before coming to an abrupt halt. Near the end of the long hallway stood the source of the clicking: a beautiful woman with her hands on her hips.

“Well, well, well, we may have suffered setback after setback, but we’ve finally got things rolling again, darling!” said the elegantly dressed woman. Wrapped in a bright red dress, shining heels, long and dark hair, bright red lipstick, neatly done make-up, and bright silver and golden jewelry adorning her wrists and neck; it was clear she held considerable status. Although her relaxed expression and gentle smile would normally elicit a calmness, her eyes reflected a peculiar image: that of a darkened jail cell, its sole inhabitant shrouded in the darkness on the floor.

“Your brilliant plan was a magnificent success, milady. Those foolish rebels never suspected a thing,” said the woman’s short attendant. Her attendant was a short man dressed in fine clothes, but nothing as eye-catching as the woman’s attire. On his face was a rather overdone expression of amusement as he continued to praise the woman, “Why is it that you must waste your time with such trivial matters? Why do you not leave it to the guardsmen or even delegate the deed to me? You know just how capable I am!”

“Ah, my dear Baund, you of all people know just how much I do love the personal touch. Why would I ever leave such exciting shows to someone other than myself? There is only one person who could fit the role, and that would be none other than yours truly,” as she spoke, she crossed her arms over her chest, gaze ever fixated on the inhabitant of the cell.

“Oh, why, yes! Of course, milady! No one but you could have carried out this mission as flawlessly,” the attendant, addressed as Baund, continued his praising.

“Dear Baund, you are just too much,” the woman replied. The tone in her voice reverberated authority and patience.

“Your brilliance knows no bounds, milady. You had the rebels playing right into your hands,” Baund continued, his overly zealous jubilation concerning the recent success of the woman knowing no bounds.

“Yes, Baund, it was all a simple matter really. To be fair, they played right into my hands. Nothing truly spectacular,” the woman’s eyes shifted focus from their original target as the attendant continued to prattle on about his lady’s glory. Her tone had somewhat changed; there was still the air of authority, but with diminished patience.

“With you conducting such spectacular missions, the rebellion will be put down in a matter of weeks! Then those filthy animals will understa--,” Baund was immediately cut off.

“Baund!” The woman stopped her attendant midsentence with clear annoyance in her voice; the gentle smile replaced with an almost repulsed expression. When the woman realized how she had addressed the attendant, she quickly recomposed herself. “Oh, uhm, well, we both know just how great I am, but that’s not what we came to gloat over, now is it?”

Baund now stood silent, but still beaming with the over-the-top, yet sincere, enthusiasm. The woman returned her focus to the jail cell. She took one step closer to the iron bars. Despite having had renewed the gentle smile on her face, the woman’s expression turned to one of depression as she gently reached for the bars. She felt the cool, smooth metal as her hands slid down while she squatted by the cell.

“I know you probably won’t want anything to do with me until the time comes for… well. Let’s not think about that right now, darling,” the woman said softly. She let out a long, heavy sigh, “Do you think… I could ask a favor? When this is all said and done, could you pass along a message for… No, no, you wouldn’t. It was a bit presumptuous of me, I suppose. It is fully within your rights to curse me for what I’ve done to you… to everyone. I could say that I’m sorry, but given recent events, you at least know that I don’t like to lie. Such a shame I’m just so good at it.”

The woman rose from her squatting position in front of the cell, hands still embracing the cold metal bars. Her head was hanging low, long hair obscuring her face, mouth still moving without sound. She seemed to be speaking to no one as no one could hear a sound passing her lips. Finally, she returned her arms to her sides and stood frozen for just a moment before spinning to face her attendant with renewed composure.

“’Damn you to hell’ is probably what you’re thinking, but let’s be fair here: you were the one who stirred up quite a mess all over the place. After everything is said and done, I will join you in hell and we can kill one another all over again and again and again! Oh, doesn’t that just sound exciting,” she spoke with the same tone that she entered the hallway with.

“Someone as perfect as you has no place in hell, milady! If need be, I will take your place when the time comes,” Baund began to chime in again.

“Dear Baund, you are just too good to me,” the woman replied as she turned toward the exit; her eyes, however, turned to look at the cell one last time. There was a rather mischievous looking smile drawn on her face now. “Don’t worry too much, darling. I won’t keep you waiting too long. Come along, Baund.”

“Yes, of course, milady. Allow me to get the door for you,” the attendant began running down the long corridor to hold the door for the woman.

“Baund… it’s automatic… well, it’s the thought that counts,” the woman shrugged and began walking down the long hallway, all the while she kept her new grin.

After the walk through the long passageway, the door could be heard shutting behind the woman and her attendant. The silence of the cells returned for a brief moment. After two or three minutes had passed, groaning could be heard from within the cell that the woman had stopped at. Although the hallway was well lit, the cells on either side were nearly pitch-black. The sole inhabitant of the entire cell block had begun to move.

Darling…rebels…everyone…why does all of that sound so familiar? The inmate thought about multiple topics presented by the visitors. Ughhh, my head is killing me. What happened? Where am I?

The inmate’s vision was blurred, the darkness of the cell did not help as they tried gathering their bearings. Am I in prison? What have I done to end up in this situation? What, where, and why? I’m asking all that, but I can’t even remember WHO that woman was. What could she possibly want with me? Wait, WHO exactly am I? Why can’t I remember anything? What is going on here?

The inmate felt immensely dizzy and thirsty, perhaps even delirious. They brought their left hand to their head and gently rubbed around their temples. No good, this headache is just too much right now. I guess I’m not getting any answers right now so there’s no point in making my head feel worse. Perhaps some rest on a cold floor in the darkness will do me some good…

Without many other options available, the inmate resigned to simply laying back down on the floor of their darkened cell. There they slept, in a cell so strangely shady despite the lighting in the hallway immediately in front of it that the inmate could not even see their own hand right before their eyes. It was a fitful slumber as the inmate continued to toss and turn as they had strange glimpses of various people and places, none of which seemed even remotely familiar. Except one image of a quaint little farmhouse and barn on the side of a long dirt road. There was even a groundwater well between the two buildings. Fencing posted around the yard behind the two structures held many wooly sheep. There was even a small vegetable garden on the side of the house furthest from the barn. The inmate was not entirely sure what seemed so soothing about the image, but it was the most comforting of the presentation their slumbering brain presented.

Eventually, the inmate awoke to the same scene: a dark cell with a well-lit hallway just beyond the bars. The dizziness and aching in their head had subsided. It was only as the inmate attempted to sit up that they realized something was wrong with their right arm. A loud gasp could be heard as pressure was applied to the limb in an effort to get up.

“Ah, ow, ow, ow! What now?” the inmate ran their left hand over their right shoulder, which was draped in a scratchy cloth. It seemed that the prison garb was composed of a linen cloth shirt and pants. They moved their hand down their right arm to find that it felt swollen and hot. A feeling of dread washed over the inmate as they discovered that they were operating with a broken right arm. “Could this get any worse?”

As though on cue, the lights in the hallway immediately went out, leaving the inmate without any sight whatsoever. Terrified, the inmate trembled in the darkness. Their heartbeat grew louder and faster as their breathing also became erratic. The inmate sat there, in horror as their breathing continued to quicken. Suddenly, a low, red light began to illuminate the darkened hallway. However, this did little to relieve the inmate who couldn’t even see the cell on the opposite side of the hall from theirs. Regardless, the inmate slowly got up from the floor, careful not to put too much weight on their right arm. Cradling their broken arm with their remaining one, the inmate walked toward the cell door and peered down the now poorly lit cell block.

After only a few seconds of looking down the hallway, the door could be heard opening. It was still too dark to make out what exactly was by the door, but whomever it was quickly made their way down to the inmate’s cell. After reaching the cell, the newcomer was identified as someone wearing dark clothes and a hooded cloak to conceal their face. The inmate was not sure what to make of the new visitor and before they could ask anything the cloaked figure spoke.

“I apologize for my tardiness and for not being able to answer any questions at this moment. There is too much at stake right now. Just know that I am here to help you despite how troublesome you’ve been,” the voice was that of a man. As the cloaked man spoke, he procured a key from somewhere on his person. The key was swiftly thrust into the cell door’s lock and turned. Clicking could be heard from the cell lock and the cloaked man pushed the cell door back.

Dumbstruck and in sheer awe, the inmate simply backed away from the cloaked man. They continued trembling and their breathing had only slightly slowed since the lights had gone out. But what terrified the inmate most was when the cloaked man made the motion to enter the cell.

“What are you doing? From what I have been told, you know no fear! Cowardice is unbecoming of someone with your reputation. Furthermore, I’m here to free you! Now is not the time to be hesitating when you should be--,” the cloaked man’s voice trailed off as he stopped and paused. The man sat there, quietly muttering something to himself, “This facility is known for drastic practices… hang on a moment… I doubt you know where you are or why you are here, but you do remember who you are, yes?”

The inmate backed themselves into the corner of the cell furthest from their guest as the man approached. Still cradling their broken arm, the inmate tried to speak, but could not muster the words. They slowly slumped to the ground in the dark corner of the cell. It seemed that the cloaked man had a much better grasp on the situation than the inmate just from the fact that the man knew who the inmate was to begin with. However, questions continued to arise in the inmate’s head, but no sounds save the panting escaped their lips.

“Well, this just became considerably more difficult,” the man continued to speak. “Listen, I do not have time nor the patience to explain, but we have to get you out of here now. It is vital that you do precisely as I say. Do so and you will get the chance to see the light of day again. Or, should you prefer, you can stay here like a good prisoner and await your execution. Make this easier for me as well; I’m not accustomed to this grunt work and sneaking about.”

The inmate could only just make out the man in the poorly lit cell as he stood over where the inmate cowering.

Facility? Remember? Execution? What the hell is going on? Who is this guy and how does he know me better than I know me? I can’t stop shaking. What do I do? Can I trust him? But if I don’t, I’ll be executed and I don’t even know what I did to deserve such a punishment! The inmate’s mind continued to race with questions, but they could not find it in themselves to speak up. They continued to simply sit in the corner of the cell, unsure of what to make of the whole situation. Trust this stranger and attempt a prison escape to God only knows where or stay and await an execution.

“We haven’t the time for this! Get up, we’re going,” the man said, grabbing the inmate by the right arm and jerking them up from the cold ground. A pained gasp came from the inmate as they took back their injured arm from the forceful rescuer. “Oh, I apologize for that, but we really must be moving. I already mentioned that my arrival was not as timely as the plan called for. Walk and talk with me, or walk and listen, you rebel soldiers are good at listening at least, yes?”

In the end, it seemed that the decision to either go or stay was made for the inmate. Still unsure on whether or not the man could be trusted, the inmate followed out of the cell and into the hall. Together, the two began making their way towards the automatic door at the far end of the hall.

“We haven’t the time to try and restore any memories, just know that you are a rebel soldier who was captured during a mission that failed due to a mole in your team. You were sentenced to death, twice now, really, but we are hoping to prevent that.” The man’s authoritative voice resonated throughout the cell block; his gaze fixated on the exit door as they continued to walk through the long corridor. “In order to escape this facility, you will need to make your way downstairs. There is an armory which is located directly two floors below us, in there you will find some trinkets that may help catch you up on what is going on. Once you’ve secured your equipment, make for the emergency exit which will be back in the staircase. Once you make it outside, you’ll need to make a dash across the courtyard for the exit gate which will be locked. Do not let yourself be seen until I manage to open the gate for you. Avoid all contact with guards; if you had your memory, I would fear more for their safety despite you being unarmed. Regardless, you should not see more than a handful as there should be a distraction on the other side of the facility, but that won’t last forever. After you are through the gate, make for the eastern tree line. From there, you will wait for a signal from your comrades.”

As the man finished his briefing, the pair had reached the door to exit the cell block. The man produced a keycard from a pocket and inserted it into the reader by the door. The door slid open slowly to reveal another poorly lit hallway. Fortunately, there were more red lights in this hallway than the cell block; the inmate could almost make out their hands in the new light. Lights on doors in the new hallway gave indicators for what lay beyond. For the most part, it seemed to be more cell blocks.

“The closest staircase is that way,” said the man, turning the inmate in the direction of the staircase. “Last thing, take this security keycard. In the event of an emergency, such as this one, most doors and systems will require security clearance.”

“But won’t you need this card?” the inmate asked, as they inspected the card they were given. It was hard to make out any features on the card, but there was some sort of identification. Unfortunately, it was too dark to read anything on the card.

“So, you didn’t forget how to speak, hmm? Well, don’t underestimate my skills. I have no need for that card beyond ensuring you have a means of escape,” the man proclaimed, he sounded almost insulted by the inmate’s query. “Now then, let us get this operation back underway. I’ve always hated waiting on those who turn up late and I absolutely refuse to keep stalling our work any further. Go, now.”

With that said, the man pointed back down the hallway towards the stairs one last time before turning and heading in the opposite direction.

He said he had to open the exit gate for me… I guess he can only do that somewhere else in this building. The inmate watched the man walk down the hallway for a moment before he turned around a corner and was gone. I don’t know what is going on here, but I guess I have no choice but to do as he says. Two floors down, armory, gear, emergency exit, exit gate, and eastern trees.

The man’s list of instructions continued to repeat over and over in the inmate’s head as they made their way toward the stairs. An eerie quiet made for quite the unnerving atmosphere given that this was a prison with seemingly no guards. Despite what the man had said, it still seemed off that an entire floor of cell blocks would be deserted of security. Still clutching their broken arm with their left hand, the inmate slowly neared the end of the dark hallway. Conveniently, they found the staircase door at the end of the hall as a lit-up sign above the door read ‘Northern Stairs.’ A card reader was located by the door and the inmate inserted the card just as the man had done previously. After the reader finished verifying the card, it beeped and flashed a small green light. The keycard was removed from the reader as the pneumatic components in the door began to work. The large automatic door was a bit slow but opened the way to progress. Inside, the inmate noticed that there were stairs going up and stairs going down.

According to that man, I must be on at least the third floor. How much more of this place is there that there are stairs leading upwards? As the inmate considered the size of the prison, they also noticed a window to the outside world. It was still dark as it must have been the middle of the night, but sections of the courtyard that the man had mentioned were illuminated by floodlights and spotlights from towers along the outer wall of the facility. The inmate surveyed the view of the courtyard for a moment, thinking that this was a good vantage point for determining a place to hide while waiting for the gate to open. There were many shadows to hide in and multiple piles of equipment or animal-pulled wagons scattered about the courtyard. Some of the wagons were parked in a neat line along the right wall all the way toward the outer perimeter, leading from the building to the exit gate. What also caught the inmate’s attention were the six guards stationed around the yard.

It looks like this must be the third floor. There appears to be six guards out there, none of which seem to be paying attention to the gate or emergency door which should be below me. I think if I’m careful, I should be able to make my way around the yard staying out of sight keeping behind those wagons. Carefully considering their approach, the inmate was startled as a loud siren began blaring throughout the facility. It took the inmate a minute to calm down as the loud siren continued assaulting their eardrums. After having gathered themselves, the inmate noticed out the window that the guards were on the move as the siren had stirred them into action. It was only now that the inmate took a closer look at the guards; they were armed with blades and crossbows. The inmate’s breathing quickened again as they realized that these guards were not meant for recapturing escapees.

I could turn around; I could go back to that cell right now and maybe this will all blow over. I don’t know who that man was, maybe he was trying to escape and was hoping I would serve as a decoy. There’s no way I can just trust someone who shows up and says, ‘you’re a rebel for a cause you know nothing about and I’m here to get you out of jail!’ The inmate trembled and took some deep breaths. But… what if he was telling the truth? It would make some sense given what that woman had been talking about. Even if I do stay, I’m apparently marked for execution. It doesn’t make any sense! Why am I to be executed? What did I do to end up here? Why can’t I remember anything? Dammit! I don’t want to die here without knowing why I have to die!

With that thought in mind, the inmate felt a cold tear run down their cheek. After a few moments, the blaring siren came to a long-winded end. The inmate took one last look out at the courtyard before looking down the staircase before them. Slowly, hesitantly, and reluctantly, the inmate began to descend the stairs. Once at the landing between the second and third floors, the inmate looked back up the stairs again. It was still difficult to see, but the door to the third-floor cell block was shutting and light from the outside did little to provide any viable visibility. After another deep breath, the inmate turned to the stairs again, but this time was different.

A loud beep could be heard from just down the flight of stairs before the inmate and the familiar sound of an automated door began to opening followed. Quick on their feet, the inmate jumped behind the stairs leading back upward to hide from whomever was passing through and prayed that they were not coming up stairs. The heavy tread of boots could be heard descending the stairs from the second floor to the first. Another beep and the first-floor door began to open, all the while, the inmate had been holding their breath to avoid any sounds.

That was too close. I couldn’t tell how many there were, there were just so many pairs of boots hitting the ground. There’s no time for hesitating or second guessing now, I’ve got to get down there. The inmate thought to themselves as they pushed up from the stairs they were pressed up against.

The inmate made their way down the stairs to the first floor where they found the emergency exit that the man had mentioned. As much as the inmate wanted to open the door and make for the gate, they recalled the instructions they were left with. ‘There is an armory… you will find some trinkets that may help catch you up on what is going on.’ The prospect of escape was undoubtedly high on the inmate’s list of priorities, but these “trinkets” the man spoke of might help the inmate remember something.

The armory is supposed to be directly below where I split up with that man, so just down the hall on the left, right? But I could just leave now… it might even be safer to cut my loses and run. Even so…

Still looking at the exit door, the inmate had inserted the keycard into the card reader of the door leading to the first floor of the facility. How difficult could it be to make it to the armory, grab whatever it was the man was talking about, and get back to the emergency exit? The door opened slowly to another dimly lit hallway. Peering out the door revealed a dark passageway with a few other doors on both walls, and luckily no guards. Quickly, the inmate made their way through the hallway to find a door labeled “Armory C.” Once more, the keycard was inserted into the slot of the reader; a beep sound and the pneumatic devices pushed the door aside so that the inmate could proceed.

Inside the armory were walls lined with weapons which were visible due to small spotlights shining on their racks. From sharpened longswords to intricately designed crossbows. The inmate slowly walked along the racks through the armory observing the different blades, bludgeons, and bows.

What about any of this is supposed to help me remember anything? The inmate confusedly thought as they procured a longsword from one of the racks. Although the man had told the inmate to avoid all contact with guards, it only made sense to arm oneself in such a situation. Holding the blade with their left hand as their right arm fell limp at their side, the inmate began making a swinging motion.

Hmm, posture is off and my grip does not provide good control. These swinging motions are not very effective either. Guess I’m not a left-handed blade master. The inmate had mentally calculated after their demonstration, following with the thought, Wait, how the hell do I know what makes a good swordsman?

Shaking their head, the inmate returned the weapon to its place on the wall rack. It seemed that just holding a weapon had some kind of effect on their memory. Unfortunately, this was not the effect that the inmate had been hoping for.

Was I really a soldier for some rebellion? If so, what weapon did I choose to use? I can’t use a bow or crossbow with my broken arm. Further, even if I do find the weapon I use, it seems my dominant hand is unusable. There were many factors for the inmate to consider regarding these ‘trinkets,’ as the man had put it. They continued down the armory, eying everything that sat on the rack before them. Whips, maces, daggers, spears, great swords and even a flail, but nothing stood out.

Nearing the end of the armory, the inmate noticed a large crate with a light shining over it. Curiously, they drew closer to peer inside. What lay within the crate was a large great axe with a unique design applied to both the blade and haft and a harness for holding the massive weapon. Across the head of the blade were engravings of what appeared to be shining rays of light over scorched earth. Further, the well-kept, wooden haft of the axe was adorned with streaks of shining silver, reaching up the axe like veins over muscle. The inmate reached for the haft with amazement. Carefully, they brought the hefty-looking axe from its crate and admired it for some time. Despite being so cumbersome, the weapon felt strangely light in the inmate’s hand; the axe felt almost natural somehow. Something about this weapon spoke to the inmate, as if they knew a deeper story surrounding the blade. Suddenly, the inmate envisioned something familiar; the farmhouse from the strange string of images they had dreamt of earlier. But this time, they saw that this axe was mounted on a wall within the farmhouse.

This is what that man sent me to find, I’m sure of it, the inmate thought to themself. With no doubts about their choice in weaponry, the inmate proceeded to snatch up the harness as well and fastened the axe to themselves. It was a bit tricky getting the clasp to close around the haft with only their left hand, but the inmate eventually managed. Having collected what they were sent to find, the inmate turned and began to exit the armory. They stopped briefly to ensure no guards were in sight before making their way back down the dark hallway to the stair well.

Still filled with fear regarding the night’s events, the inmate considered what the deal must be concerning the man from before. Having collected the axe, it was clear to the inmate that the man must have been telling at least some truth. This meant only one thing to the inmate: Not only can he get me out of here alive, but he also has to be able to tell me who I am.

Standing before the emergency exit door in the stair well, all the inmate could do was draw a deep breath. Unlike the other doors, this emergency exit required no keycard, but just a push. There was no going back and only one chance for escape. Throwing fear and anxiety to the side, the inmate thrust open the door and leapt out from within the stair well.

Now outside, the inmate quickly crouched behind some piled up boxes containing military grade equipment. From their hiding place they could see four of the six guards that had previously been noted while surveying the courtyard from the third-floor window. Thinking back to their positioning, one should be closer to the exit gate while the other was somewhere off to the left wall. While none of the guards were looking toward the hiding place, the inmate quickly made for the lined-up wagons while keeping to the shadows. After making it to the first wagon, the inmate took a moment to make sure no one had seen them. Quietly and slowly, the inmate moved from wagon to wagon, checking to make sure no one was looking in their direction. Despite both the cover of the wagons and the shadows, the inmate feared any risk of failing their escape.

Just a few more and I’ll be only several meters from the gate, the inmate thought to themselves as they bolted for the next wagon in the line. Three wagons more and the inmate would be free of the prison. Unfortunately, as the inmate readied themselves to move to the next wagon, they heard a bit of commotion coming from the guards.

“All hands, we have reports that a high priority prisoner has escaped. This is not a drill, assume dangerous; lethal force has been authorized,” one voice called out to the entire yard.

“High priority? You think it’s that prisoner that the princess brought in?” One guard asked another.

“I doubt it, last time I saw that sad sack, she was beat to a pulp. I heard that The Doctor also headed the interrogation. Probably doesn’t even remember a thing about the rebellion,” another guard replied.

Well, I can’t say that he’s entirely wrong. But I have escaped, and I’m getting out of here now! The inmate silently exclaimed to herself. She continued just as careful as before as she neared the exit gate. After finally reaching the last wagon, the inmate looked to the gate with anxiety. The gate was still closed and gave no indication of opening anytime soon. Worried, the inmate began to question where the man was with getting the gate open. She hadn’t been left behind or the man hadn’t been captured himself, right? Or perhaps, she was just a decoy in that man’s escape attempt?

Loud crunching of boots on gravel slowly began to near the inmate’s hiding place. She ducked down as low as possible to avoid being spotted. Her heart began racing as the guard drew ever nearer. It was only a matter of time before she was spotted and either returned to her cell or killed.

Not like this, I don’t want to die like this, was the only thought in the inmate’s head. Suddenly, the crunching of gravel stopped. The last time it sounded was so close that the inmate assumed the guard was just on the other side of the wagon. It was at that moment that the inmate considered another option; she slowly began to reach for the axe she had stolen from the armory. She was clearly in no condition to wield such a large weapon with only one hand despite the apparent weightlessness she had discovered, but she drew the blade in her left hand regardless. Holding her breath, the inmate had prepared herself to spring into action but was stopped short. The gate before her had started to open.

“Why is that gate opening?! Who opened the gates?” came one voice from somewhere in the yard. “Someone tell control to shut the gates then find me whoever did that!”

Crunching of gravel resumed and it drew closer again. All the inmate could think of was that the guard would see her if she didn’t make a move now. With that in mind, she jumped up and began sprinting for the exit gate. Almost immediately, a blinding light was focused on her.

“What?! Hey, you! Stop right there! The prisoner is making a break for it,” came a voice somewhere behind the prisoner, likely the guard walking up on her hiding spot. It didn’t matter who the voice belonged to, the inmate could see just beyond the exit gate. She ran and did not look back until she felt a sharp pain in her left leg. Still running and clutching her axe, she turned to see that a guard had fired a crossbow bolt at her and grazed her leg. That was not enough to stop the inmate.

Turning forward, the inmate saw that the gate was now closing. Don’t stop, got to get under that gate, the inmate thought. With only a few feet from the gate and only about three feet of space between the wrought iron gate and the ground, the inmate dove under the gate. Just as she rolled over and got back up, the gate was closed again. Not the time for celebrating, the inmate began sprinting for the nearest tree line for cover. Having left behind the guards and the prison, the inmate took cover behind a thick tree. Leaning against the tree and catching her breath, the inmate looked back toward the gate to ensure she wasn’t being followed. What she saw was a tall metal and stone wall surrounding a tall prison facility in the middle of a field with a long dirt road stretching out for seemingly miles.

Still gasping for air and with her heart still racing, the inmate looked at her bleeding leg. While the graze didn’t cut deep, it was still bleeding heavily. Without anything at hand, the inmate grabbed the linen shirt she was wearing and pulled. Without much effort, the shirt tore, perhaps even too much.

“Ugh! I didn’t mean to rip off that much,” the inmate said to herself, feeling a touch embarrassed that her shirt did not do the best job of covering her now. Despite the embarrassment, it was understood that modesty was a luxury she could not afford given the current situation. She used the torn linen scrap to cover the wound on her left leg. Just as she finished dressing the wound, the inmate began to stand.

As soon as she stood, another blinding light had found her. She was unable to shield her eyes from the bright light as one arm was broken and the other held her axe.

“Give it up, drop your weapon and you will be returned to your cell unharmed,” came a loud voice from the direction of the light.

No… it can’t end like this. I’m not going back until I know what sent me there in the first place! The inmate’s silent resolve must have shone on her face.

“This is your last warning! Place the axe on the ground and then return to your cell,” the voice called out.

The only response that the inmate had was to take a deep breath and firmly grip her axe. Slowly, she brought the weapon up from her side and pointed it in the direction of the lights and voice. Cold wind began blowing all around; leaves danced between the inmate and her captors.

“Crossbows ready,” the voice ordered. At that moment, time seemed to stand still. The inmate wondered if this really was the end for her. To die alone in some unknown forest and without any memory of who she really was or why she was being targeted for execution. She looked to her axe, still pointed at the prison guards that were training crossbows on her. Focusing her mind, she mentally revisited that farmhouse from her dreams and she remembered something: I won’t die until I go home one last time.

“Fire!”

The inmate closed her eyes and held her breath.

“The inmate was certain that this was the end and that all had been for naught. She opened her eyes and… hmm?” a weary sigh came from the man sitting by the small bed. “Finally asleep, are you? Good, I don’t really know where I was going with that story anyway.”

The man rose from the stool he had been spinning his tale from. Quietly, he grabbed a candle on the nightstand and made his way out of the bedroom. At the door, the man gave a tired smile, blew out the candle, and said, “Goodnight, Aridean.”