Private Tales Trapped Inside One's Mind

[Alistair Krixus]

A sharp light forced Alistair from unconsciousness as he painfully cracked one open. Wait? Light, how was he seeing? Oh, he wasn't. He had forgotten where he was for just the shortest moment. The light had come from the magical energy powering his chains. He had been entirely cut off from his own mana thanks to these manacles. He was trapped. All because of his own hubris.

It had started off as any simple mission, he had picked up strange readings and reports of unknown magic in the outskirts of Elbion. He had eagerly set off in the hopes of harnessing this magic for Vel Anir, or to cut of the dangerous potential of such a threat. He had been surprised to find this mansion, but even so had led himself to trust in his competence. Only to walk right into the trap.

The trap had actually been ingenious, completely canceling out all magic and then using natural gas to render him unconscious. Before Alistair even knew what hit him, he found himself waking up in this dungeon. And it was here he had remained.

Alistair wasn't sure how long he had been down here. He knew that magic had been used to make time drag on for him. Along with physical pain and even attempts at rendering him euphoric, the style of torture used by this mage was diverse and devious.

Like every other time he awoke, Alistair first attempted to pull himself free only to tire himself out. It always proved useless, but it never stopped him from trying. His right shoulder was burning with pain...That's right, yesterday he had been stabbed in the shoulder. That had been one of the more normal techniques.

After his physical resistance died down, like it did every day, he would grow still and quiet. His mind worked for any possible way of escape because that was the only tool he had left to use.

"Think, take your time." He mumbled to himself.

Katja

 

[Katja]

Katja was acutely aware of the presence in the dungeon below.

A few times, she had dared to peek inside. On one occasion, she had been caught. She regretted being caught.

Evander had been gone for most of the day, and she knew that he wouldn’t return for a few more hours. Each time she had checked, the man in the cell had been asleep. Except this time - this time she heard him whisper.

Standing on her tiptoes, she strained to see through the narrow window in the heavy wooden door that led to the cells. It wasn’t until the door creaked slightly—its protest echoing thunderously in the dank silence—that she realised it had been ajar. In a flurry of instinct, she stepped aside, pressing her back against the door and holding her breath, mentally berating herself for her clumsiness. The stillness of the dungeon felt oppressive, and she could almost hear the pounding of her heart in the quiet.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair's own breathing was so loud that he never heard the new arrival. He would have entirely missed it all, if not for the change in the mana in the area. The smallest change called his breath to catch as his head snatched up to look blindly around the room.

"Whose there? I told you, you're not getting anything from me. I'll-"

His next sentence was cut short by a sharp pain in his ribs. Oh right, his ribs were broken too. He wondered if all the cuts along his body and his declining mental strength were a sign of too much blood loss.

Alistair did his best to readjust his hanging position to try and get a better look.

"You're not him. Who are you?"

Katja

 

[Katja]

Katja winced, hesitating for a moment, her heart racing as the man's voice broke through the silence. The pain and defiance in his words were palpable, and she felt a swell of sympathy for him, even as fear gripped her.

You're not him, are you?

She remained still, barely breathing, knowing well the trouble she'd find herself in if she overstepped again. There was little she could do to ease his suffering, and oh, she knew he suffered - but the least she could do was rid him of any worry that he was about to be dealt more of it. At least, not right now..

“No…” she replied quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. She turned, standing up onto her tiptoes again, one eye peering through the tiny window into the room of cages.

She could almost see the strain etched on his face, the bruises and cuts and ..something else, that made a grim masterpiece of his skin. The helplessness clawed at her, and for a fleeting moment, she wished she could do more than just stand at the door. But she knew better.

"You should sleep."

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Her words spurred him into resisting more. Sleep was the most dangerous time. Even with his mental wards in place, without his own mana to power them, he had not way of knowing if they were even active. All sorts of nasty spells could be placed on him when he was sleeping.

It took him a moment of frantic thinking for his mind to realize something else. That soft reply that his ears had only barely picked up on had not been what he expected. It did not belong here.

"I can not...I must leave...Y-You can help me. Set me free."

He inquired, trying hard to not let any desperation slip into his words. If this person was down here, then maybe the mage was gone. That meant he could escape, he just needed a chance.

"W-What's your name?"

Katja

 

[Katja]

Katja’s heart twisted painfully at his plea, the desperation he tried so hard to hide clear in his words. She wished she could help, but she knew well that Evander would do worse to her if she intervened. Her fingers brushed the rough, splintered door, and she felt the weight of her own bindings, invisible yet unbreakable.

"I... I can't do that," she whispered, the words feeling heavy on her tongue. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to swallow the shame that welled up inside her. It made her ache, but she had to keep her distance—for both their sakes. She didn't know him, but nobody deserved to be where he was. None of those who had come before him had either.

"I'm... I'm sorry." Her gaze drifted anxiously to the stairs, watching the shadows cast by flickering torchlight dance ominously against the stone walls. "I shouldn’t even be here…” She trailed off, her voice laced with a raw, quiet panic.

"Just rest," she murmured, forcing herself to sound steadier than she felt. "He won’t be back for a few hours." she added, her words hurried as she turned to go back up the stairs. She hoped it was true, though the thought of what might happen when he returned gnawed at her. For now, though, she could at least give him that brief reprieve.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair was shaking his head, but he did not know if she could even see him. The furious turning of his head was probably doing more to hurt his neck than to make him free.

"Wait, don't go yet...If you leave me here...I'm dead...Just...At least don't let me die starving. Please, water or food."

He wasn't inclined to entirely give up on his life, but he was not going to blind himself to likely outcomes. He had been trained in torture his entire life. The likelihood of escape was low, and the likelihood of death was high. Especially because he had no plans on breaking.

"What are you doing here?"

He just needed to keep her talking, to have anyone to talk to.

Katja

 

[Katja]

Katja froze on the stairs, his voice pulling her back like a tether. She knew the ache of hunger all too well, the hollowness that twisted her insides and stole her strength. A heavy silence stretched between them as she stood, listening, weighing his words. She ignored the question about herself, for the second time.

“I’ll bring you something to eat,” she said softly, the promise slipping out before she could second-guess herself. Without another word, she hurried up the steps, her heart hammering in her chest.

It took some time before she returned. She had scrounged what she could without drawing attention—a meager offering, but it was something. As she pushed the heavy door open, the creak echoed through the darkness. She cleared her throat, the sound barely a whisper against the oppressive silence.

The dim light from the stairwell spilled in, catching the faint edges of the cell’s iron bars and the outline of a face. Her breath caught. She hadn’t expected to feel a pang of guilt this sharp, or the slight tremble in her own resolve. Holding her breath, she moved quickly to the bars, crouching as she set down a cup of water and a small bundle wrapped in cloth.

Inside, he’d find a rough half cob of bread, a chunk of cheese, and an apple.

She said nothing, lingering only a moment before she stood and turned, heading swiftly back toward the door, every instinct urging her to hurry before she changed her mind.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair pulled against his chains, feeling the manacles rub against his wrists, but he forced himself to the front of his cell. He grabbed for the food chewing into hungrily. Even when it sounded like he was choking on the food, he stopped himself from chugging the water in one gulp. He needed to save it.

Finally coming up for air, he did not miss out on his chance to continue the conversation.

"W-Why will you help me, but not release me?"

He had eaten so much food so quickly that his stomach was actually in knots from the sudden intake of food. Still, it wasn't like he could do anything besides sit there and be in pain.

"The mage...is he your master? Are you a prisoner as well? Is this all some ploy to trick me?" He questioned.

Katja

 

[Katja]

Katja lingered by the door, her hand tightening against the frame as she glanced back at him, her eyes darkened with shame, crushed sapphires brimming with unshed tears. She swallowed hard, the guilt weighing heavy in her chest, making it harder to draw a steady breath.

“I’m not helping you,” she murmured, her voice a strained whisper. “I can’t help you. But I’m not tricking you either.” Her gaze faltered, dropping to the cold stone floor beneath her feet as she fought the urge to look away entirely. She couldn’t bear to look at his face, to see whatever he might be feeling reflected back at her.

“You should stop asking me questions,” she continued, the firmness in her tone tinged with a hint of sadness. “I won’t answer.” Her lips pressed together, as if by speaking any further, she risked breaking whatever thin thread of composure she still held.

Curiosity killed the Katja, she thought bitterly, the phrase taunting her in the back of her mind. She couldn't let herself know more, couldn't bear to learn who he was or what he had done to end up here. It would only make him real—a person she was too frightened to help, trapped in a fate she felt powerless to change. And knowing that, admitting her own cowardice, was almost more than she could bear.

“I need to take your cup… the cloth too,” she added, a note of impatience in her voice.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair could hear the wavering in her voice. He was sure that if he could see that he there would be a face that looked as powerless as he felt. This must have been some sort of servant. He finished off the rest of the food before looking up.

His face now just a bit calmer now that he was fed and he knew someone was just as scared as he had been. Alistair wiped his hair out of his face before glancing down at the water and taking a small sip.

"But I'm not done yet...Please, just a few more seconds."

His mind raced to come up with some strategy. This was the mage who had shown no compassion, this was someone who at least had the heart to offer him food. It was no longer about rebelling, but making an ally.

"My name is Alistair...I wish we had met under better circumstances."

He tried to crack a smile, but his dry lips only cracked and burst causing him to taste some blood in his mouth. He spit the taste out onto the floor.

"Sorry about that."

Katja

 

[Katja]

Katja’s hands tightened into fists as she waited, her stomach coiled in tense knots. She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be feeding him. And she certainly shouldn't be listening to him.

When he said his name—Alistair—a chill ran through her, and she flinched, almost recoiling as if the name itself were a threat.

“Don’t—“The word barely slipped past her lips, too soft, too late.. His name was out there, hanging in the air between them, impossible to ignore now.

“Stop talking to me,” she snapped, her voice a fragile attempt at firmness. “Just… drink your water and return the cup.” She forced her voice to sound steady, to keep the soft edges from creeping in, as if sounding stronger could somehow ward off the guilt gnawing at her.

Her gaze darted back to the door, the paranoia thick and sharp. Evander wouldn’t be back for hours, but somehow… she felt as if he’d already know what she’d done.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair still didn't reach for the water, keeping it next to him. Instead, he just stared at her, but his glassy eyes revealed that he could still not physically see her, but...her aura. Her magical features were far less solid than an average mage, fluctuating with their conversation. It would shrink, before expanding greatly beyond herself. It was familiar, but not enough to immediately recognize it.

"You are a mage, as well...What do you do for this man?"

As Alistair forced himself to try and grow calm, it was surprisingly Katja who seemed to be more panicked of the two in this situation. That did not bode well for him.

"My apologies, what is your name?"

It was always easy for manners and decorum to be the first things to be thrown out when it trouble, so Alistair found that it often calmed down a situation when it was used in a setting where its appearance did not make sense.

Katja

 

[Katja]

Katja’s head tilted, caught for a moment in how he watched her without really seeing her, and the realisation dawned—he was blind. But her intrigue quickly soured as he asked another question, pushing her patience.

“Enough,” she snapped, her frustration mounting as his polite questions only made her guilt worse. “Just… give me the damned cup.”

She strode forward with more confidence than she felt, her fingers already reaching out through the bars, demanding, determined to retrieve the cup and leave.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair looked down at the cup before picking it up and drinking half of the water. He paused a moment, savoring the feeling of healing his parched throat. Then, he took the remaining water and poured it across his face, chest, and arms. He wanted to try to remove any of the caked-in blood that he could.

"I'm sorry that I've angered you."

He placed the cup down in front of her. There was no need to hold onto the cup longer, even if he did want to continue having someone to talk to.

"Will you at least tell me...What is likely to happen to me? Will I be killed?"

Judging by his experience, he already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear her say it.

Katja

 

[Katja]

Katja halted as he picked up the cup, her breath catching as she regarded him. She clenched her fists at her sides, struggling with her emotions. The sight of his injuries, of the streaks of blood that painted his skin made her stomach churn with regret. When he set the cup down, a moment of vulnerability hung in the air. He could have kept it, wielded it as leverage and forced her to stay and talk, but instead, he surrendered it, leaving the choice as her own.

And he was 'sorry'. She frowned, unsure of what to do with the apology. She hadn't had one in a very long time.

"It's... you didn't." Her voice faltered, and she stepped forward, lifting the cup and clutching it to her chest as she straightened. Her eyes shifted back to the door as she contemplated the weight of his final question.

"I'm not sure..." she replied honestly, her voice low and uncertain. "I don't think that's his intention; he just... pushes people too far."

Katja sighed, looking back at him. "There hasn't been anyone down here in months... You must have piqued his interest." Her tone held unspoken questions, a silent plea for understanding. Why are you here? What does he want with you? The desire to know gnawed at her, but she fought it back, unwilling to delve deeper into a situation that terrified her.

"I'm sorry.." she offered quietly. Sorry that he was here, and that she couldn't help him, whoever he was.

"You really should rest."

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Piqued his interest? That was funny. Alistair supposed that the mage had also piqued his own interest, which was what had drawn him here in the first place.

"I'm more than accustomed to being pushed...People die all the time from that." He added reflectively.

Al seemed to relax a bit more, having decided that this moment may be one of his few short minutes of reprieve. The added benefits of food and water in his stomach made him feel slightly stronger and if a bit more confident.

"Thank you, but if I may die any day then I would prefer to spend my last moments awake in the world...The last thing I want before my death is a nightmare."

That last comment, while genuine surprised Alistair that it came out of his mouth. He never spoke up the problem to anyone, but he never had the good fortune of nice dreams. It was only ever horrible nightmares often involving death or other horrible things to him, his friends, and his family.

Katja

 

[Katja]

Katja's brow furrowed, her heart twisting as she listened to him. There was a depth to his words, a weariness that only came from someone intimately acquainted with suffering. He spoke of being pushed, of people dying, as if it were simply a fact of life, and perhaps for him, it was. She clenched her jaw, her effort to stay detached wavering.

"You must have something he wants…" she sighed. “If there's a way to give it to him without suffering any more, then…you should." She shifted her weight, her heel scuffing against the cold stone floor. The words left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she had learned that survival often required compromise.

When he mentioned nightmares, Katja paused, a flicker of understanding crossing her face as she looked at him. Though he couldn't see it, her expression softened, and she nodded quietly. She, too, knew the darkness that lurked behind closed eyes, the dreams that clawed at you in the dead of night.

Her fingers tightened around the cup, a knot of guilt twisting in her chest. "I should go," she murmured, as much to herself as to him. She knew she’d lingered too long, and now, having seen his face and heard the strain in his voice, knowing his name, his suffering, his quiet resignation, she felt the weight of it all settle heavily on her. He had apologised, even expressed a sliver of hope, and now, she was tethered to this feeling she had tried so hard to avoid.

She had known it would come to this the moment she crossed the threshold. Now that his humanity was laid bare before her, she felt exactly as terrible as she’d feared she would.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair was already shaking his head before she could finish her words. No, anything of worth of his was not his to give. It was either information, or his eyes and he would not give those to anyone. Instead, he just looked back at her for a long time.

"You still never told me your name."

He had moved back into the cell so he could rest his back on something, while the young man seemed to be a bit more at peace. His demeanor did not match the grotesque condition of his body. Still, he offered a smile.

"If this is the last, then it has been nice to meet you."

A soft humming could be heard from Alistair as he lost sight of Katja and returned to his mind unless she was willing to speak more with him.

Katja

 

[Katja]

He seemed kind. She wished he didn't. It would have been so much easier if he were some cruel, monstrous thing, something that would let her leave without looking back. But he wasn’t. He was calm, even as he suffered, even as he likely faced death. When he’d asked her name, she’d nearly refused, but what did it matter now? She knew his, after all.

“Katja,” she said softly after he’d settled back, watching him with a furrowed brow. He still managed to smile. To hum some melody. Nice to meet her? Nothing about any of this was nice. She couldn’t fathom how he could be so calm, so resigned, facing the pain and fear she could see etched on his body. There was a strength in him that made her chest ache with shame.

“I… I can give you something,” she offered quietly, voice faltering. “Something to numb the pain, when he comes back. You won’t feel it. You'd just, have to pretend to, or he'd know." Her words rushed out, her tone nearly pleading, betraying the urgency in her chest. “Just… please don’t tell him. I’m not supposed to be down here,” she added, clutching the cup, already wondering if she’d regret this.