Parto 5: La Flugo

The two pieces of wood lay on Medusa’s desk. We had found the proof Arakil couldn’t. We had solved every puzzle.

Kimiti, whoever they were, had left us one truth and one instruction.

Neniam eliros. Will never leave.

If we weren’t leaving for La Granda Ekstero, then where were we going? A new area? Another Nesto?

Ne manĝu kukon. Don’t eat cake.

Kimiti’s words of advice. It seemed like such an absurd instruction, yet it was our only remaining lead. Following it was the only way to understand its meaning.

I looked at Gabino, Osiris, Medusa, Serena, and Abrajm, all gathered in Medusa’s room, the air thick with a mixture of apprehension and determination. We had just become a team and now our paths would diverge, at least for a while.

“Right now we don’t know where the elevator will take us,” I told them. “But wherever it is, Arakil has to be there.”

“How do you know that?” asked Gabino.

I hesitated. I didn’t know. But I felt hopeful. And I trusted Arakil.

“If they’re not waiting, I will find them,” I said. “And Indigo too. We’ll figure all of this out. And once we do, we’ll get a message to you.”

Medusa tilted their head.

“How? If we can communicate with wherever you’re going, why hasn’t Arakil sent a message already?”

“I don’t know yet,” I admitted. “But I’ll find a way. Arakil and Indigo will help. We’ll make sure you know what’s going on. I promise.”

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence.

We had nothing left to do. We had solved the riddles. Deciphered the map. We had uncovered as many of the secrets of La Nesto as we could.

We couldn’t prepare any more for what was coming.

“Well, then, it seems this story has reached its conclusion,” Gabino broke the silence, standing up and dusting off their hands. “It had its ups and downs, especially for me, and we all had our fun and all that. We still have some time together, and I, for one, don’t want to waste it.”

I was so thankful to have Gabino with us.

“Yes! We should do more things together,” I said.

“A Konektu Ses tournament,” said Medusa. “A real one this time!”

We all knew Medusa would win it, but still we agreed. The atmosphere warmed, and worried expressions gave way to smiles and giggles.

“Guys!” Gabino shouted. “There’s still one last Konkurso this year!”

We looked at them, surprised. Gabino shrugged.

“Why not? It’s like a tradition. And we’re all still here, so…”

They trailed off, but I understood what they meant. It wasn’t about tradition. It was about closure.

And so, we spent that last month together. Chatting, playing, and training. Until La Konkurso arrived.

For us, it was a strange mix of joy and melancholy. We all tried our luck on all events, just for fun, and I imagine the kids from the other ĉeloj had the times of their lives seeing Gabino stuck on the first equation while Medusa had already finished their thirty-two problems, or me having to go back to rescue Serena, stuck on a tree in the Obstacle Course.

We won four out of the six events, but Abrajm surprised everyone by somehow getting third in the Memory Matrix, while Gabino vowed to conquer “that damned Precision Challenge” next year.

As we received the tokens at the end, I looked at my friends, wondering if we could all share that of joy again.

We gathered one final time in Medusa’s room, with the excuse of a celebration. Instead, we spent the night making our plans for the next day.

La Instruistoj had already served the food, including the cake in the middle. Was this year’s bigger than usual? And this year it was chocolate… Ne manĝu kukon. Kimiti’s words echoed in my mind.

I picked up a slice. It looked delicious. I brought it to my lips, pretending to take a bite, then slipped it to Medusa, who was sitting beside me. They tucked it away. For later, I knew it. I envied them just a little.

The time to say goodbye arrived too soon. It felt like only yesterday we were deciphering riddles and chasing Abrajm. Now we stood by the elevator, its metal doors a gateway to the unknown.

Six minutes.

Gabino hugged me first, sniffling. Their grip firm.

“Don’t mess this up, okay?” they said, their voice muffled. “And don’t forget us.”

“I won’t,” I promised, my throat tight.

Serena, however, was not holding back. Tears streamed down their face as they clung to my neck.

“I’ll miss you so much,” they sobbed.

I hugged them back and Abrajm, seeing the hug, joined us.

“Kanako!” they said, clear as day, for the first time.

Osiris approached. They didn’t speak, but their lingering hug said everything.

Medusa, however, looked hesitant, tense. I stepped forward and hugged them. As soon as my arms were around them, they started sobbing.

“I don’t want you to go!” they cried.

I stroke their hair until 4-5 said our time was up. But when I pulled back, Medusa held my shoulders.

With a sudden burst of courage, Medusa leaned in and pressed a light kiss to my cheek before running away, burying their flushed face in their hands.

All six of us twelve-year-olds stepped into the elevator. As the doors started to close, I looked at them. One last time.

Gabino gave me a thumbs up, their face covered in tears. Serena was crying nonstop, Abrajm was trying to comfort them. Medusa peeked at me between their fingers, their face still red.

I hadn’t spent enough time with them. In special with Medusa. I had missed their attempts to get my attention, the subtle hints, the unspoken words.

What else had I missed? What other details had slipped by while I was so absorbed in the riddles?

My mind replayed the past year: the map, the secret meetings, the late-night conversations.

A thought struck me. La Metalpolpo. They were so vigilant, so determined to enforce order. But at some point, they disappeared. Just vanished.

Too convenient, said Gabino’s voice in my head.

Osiris smiled at me. It was a sweet smile, but somehow it seemed calculated.

The elevator doors closed, leaving us in darkness. A whir, but no movement. Then I heard the others falling around me.

The cake, I thought. I lay down beside them, closing my eyes, pretending to be unconscious.

Minutes stretched into an eternity. Then the doors opened. I watched through a slit in my eyelids.

It was La Nesto. We hadn’t moved. A biting cold seeped into the elevator, making me shiver.

Through the fog, I saw them. A group of tall, metallic figures. La Metalpolpoj. Their bodies reflecting the dim light.

One by one, they picked up the other kids, their limbs precise and unyielding. When my turn came, I went limp, my breaths shallow.

It placed me on a cold, hard surface. Machinery hummed, punctuated by the sharp clicks of tools. La Metalpolpo approached, holding something up. Its head turned a full circle and I could see it didn’t have three red eyes, but six.

Then a needle pierced my arm, and I bit my lip to stifle a cry as burning pain spread through my veins.

La Metalpolpo put away the syringe and pulled out a shiny, sharp instrument. It disappeared from sight, but I felt it a moment later, pressing against my abdomen.

Pain exploded through my entire body as the object cut through. I clenched my fists, pressing my head back against the table.

Don’t scream.

But the strain was too much. The world spun, the fog swirling around, and then everything went black.

Darkness swallowed me whole.