Under A Crimson Tide

The intense glow of the lights stabbed the insides of Lucius’s skull while he tried tor rest, as the shadows in the far corner of the cell began to move. At first, he thought it was his eyes still poisoned, blurring the edges. But the shadow thickened, peeling itself from the wall, stretching upward until it took the shape of a figure.

Xallarap stepped forward without sound. Its form was all shifting dark, a figure shaped absence where no flesh or bone existed, at least not anymore.

The straps on Lucius’s wrists trembled as the darkness inched closer.

“You’re awake,” the voice said, toneless but not hollow. “Good. You need to understand your options.”

Lucius’s throat burned. He forced his words through it anyway.

“Options? You’re keeping me in this prison strapped to a chair. What options?”

Xallarap tilted its head, a ripple moving across its form like disturbed water.

“Do not interrupt me again. This is the Serious House, the asylum of your own creations. You should feel privileged to be here, you have been spared. This room can be anything you will it to be, a manifestation of your deepest desires, a deterministic cave, all just for you.”

The figure continued to convulse, pure dark energy down to its core.

“The exit is just over there, across that threshold. At the hour of 10:47, once a day, everyday, the door will unlock. Your beaded path to freedom.”

Lucius blinked. The shadowed figure had jumped right into a lecture, but the words just slid off his brain. “The...what?”

“This is the room that doesn’t exist. Where the future cannot be predicted from the past. No patterns. No logic. No fate.” The shadow leaned closer, the faceless void impossible to meet with steady eyes. “Every day, you are given a choice. Stay and accept the unknown, or leave.”

“Leave? If I can just leave, why the hell would I stay? What am I tied up for?”

“You will see, the time will arise.”

Lucius’s voice cracked. “What are you doing this for?”

“Because,” Xallarap said, “you are exhausting.”

Lucius stippled a fear ridden cough, bitter from the back of his throat. “Then let me go.”

“That choice is only yours to make.” The shadow’s form sharpened briefly, edges jagged.

The words rattled in Lucius’s head, lodging there like nails. He tugged at the restraints, uselessly.

“What’s gonna happen to me in here? What’s the point? Is this all just a stupid game?”

“The room will not kill you, unless you allow it. Sometimes it will burn. Sometimes it will torment. Sometimes, it will be beautiful. But never the same. Never predictable. That is what you must endure.”

Lucius shook his head, sweat beading at his temple. This is madness. They’re trying to break me apart, piece by piece.

“You can also forget about that pesky device you were wearing around your wrist, I’ve taken the pleasure in removing it from your possession. But, if you are so strong,” Xallarap murmured, circling behind him, “then you shouldn’t have needed it anyways. Bypass this all, use your resonance. Free yourself. Show us that you can.”

Lucius’s fists clenched against the iron bands, his knuckles turning white. “You know I can’t. I haven’t been able to use it all.”

The shadow leaned close, a whisper threading directly into his ear. “Then tomorrow, when the door opens, choose. Until then, enjoy your rest.”

“Wait,” Lucius called out, “I’ve seen people like you before. At the cathedral. You look like one of them... the bandaged men who gave up their souls.”

The shadow stilled, as though surprised to be recognized. Then a low ripple of laughter, hollow and jagged, echoed from its form.

“You are well versed,” Xallarap said, his voice carrying the sound of tearing fabric. “Yes. I was one of them. Once a man. Flesh, face, name. All gone now.”

Lucius narrowed his eyes. “So what are you now?”

“I Am,” Xallarap replied. “I bargained with the Vatics. Freedom, for the weight of my flesh. This is what remains.”

Lucius tried to shift against the restraints, the leather biting his wrists. “And you’re here... to play captor?”

Xallarap leaned forward, its form bending unnaturally, edges frayed as if the darkness itself wanted to escape it.

“To prepare you, Lucius, and to remind you of the choices before you. This world takes what is offered, and you, too, will be made to offer something. The only question is what?”

Lucius swallowed hard, anger breaking through his fear.

“If you lost your soul for freedom, then you’re not free at all. You’re still just a pawn in the King’s game.”

For a moment the shadow didn’t answer, form shivering like smoke in wind.

“Perhaps,” Xallarap replied. “But it is no longer your turn.”

Xallarap’s form dispersed into the corners of the room, returning to its natural state.

Lucius’s heart thundered. His mind screamed for escape. But his body was bound, he had no choice but to endure.

The room was quiet now, his pulse drumming loud over the silence.

But it wasn’t long before there was movement.

A draft stirred, faint at first, like the sigh of a distant sea through cracked glass. It built slowly, curling through the corners of the cell, until a breeze had formed in the windowless room. It began to take shape, pale strands woven together into a figure, translucent and trembling, a feminine form flickering on the brink of unravelling.

A woman of air and breath, her face formless, eyes like an open sky.

Do not allow him to unmake you, her voice whispered, though it came without sound, like it was said only in the confines of his mind. You will not be alone in this, Lucius. You will not be broken.

For the first time since waking, his shoulders unclenched. He wanted to reach out, but his wrists stayed bound.

“Lain…if that’s really you, please, don’t leave me here,” he begged.

She was gone before his fingers could twitch, dissolving into a sigh that sank into the stone.

And then came the heat.

A pulse of red resonance seeped from the cracks of the cell like blood from invisible wounds, crawling up the chair’s legs, winding around him in spirals.

It coiled tight around his chest, wrapped his skull, and with every loop he felt himself sinking. His breath stuttered, vision blurred as the resonance slid into him, filling his veins with a warmth that burned.

The cell was gone. The weight of chains replaced with the boundless press of a new current, his entire being dragged under a crimson tide.

Lucius closed his eyes, and the world folded inward.