It had been a while since he had seen anything but darkness after waking up. His ears had long since become accustomed to sounds other than his own voice, and his body wouldn't even recognize the warmth of the sun's rays. Still, he really wanted to. He wanted to see something different from the outlines of the bars in the darkness that drove him mad. He wanted to hear something other than his own breath in the grave silence, as if there was no one but him, as if no one noticed him, as if he didn't exist, as if he was already dead.
And maybe he was. He didn't know how many decades had passed, he didn't know if anything around him was even real. No one ever answered his screams, no one ever responded to his cries, and his silence changed nothing.
He wanted it to end. Either by death or release, he just wanted it to end...but he knew it wasn't going to happen. Never.
Therefore, when once in a while he had a more beautiful dream, in which he didn't exceptionally have nightmares, didn't talk with Luck or sit in a cell like when he was awake, he tried to stay in it as long as possible. Sometimes he´d gone back to the years when he went outside, when he walked on the grass, laughing with his protector and receiving respectful gestures from everyone around him. Those were lovely times, more than the ugly reality he wished he hadn´t gone back to.
That's why when he felt the soft touch of grass under him instead of a stone floor, he knew he was dreaming again. And he didn't plan to wake up so soon. He slowly opened his eyes, which instead of the usual darkness were blinded with bright rays. He closed his eyelids in surprise and covered his face with his hand. Although sometimes he had dreams of the outside world, he had never experienced such a real touch of the sun in them.
Confused, he sat down and looked around. However, he didn't come up with anything special. The scenery before him was unfamiliar, and he had no idea which part of his life this fantasy was from. He looked around at the forest, trying to find some clue as to how long the nice dream would probably last, but he found nothing.
He slowly got to his feet and tried to take a step forward when suddenly a sharp pain shot through his calf. A broken branch from a nearby bush pierced the top layer of his skin, and he stared at it in disbelief for a moment.
It had been a long time since anything physically hurt him, and while it wouldn't bring anyone joy, he was different. The pain made him think about where he was, why he felt it if he generally couldn't in his dreams. And why is everything around so clear, although his dreams are always kept in the dark.
He didn't want to believe it, he didn't want to get his hopes up, but his ability to stay negative wasn't strong enough to vacillate for long.
"Am I out?" he asked himself out loud and hesitantly bowed to the ground.
He ran his fingers over the grass and smiled lightly. Then he knelt down and lay back on the ground in disbelief, stroking the wet grass again with his hands. The tickling on his skin made him smile even more and after a moment of thought he laughed loudly in a rush of joy:
"Say, am I out? Am I out?" he spoke to Luck, though it usually didn't answer, "Did you get me out?" he closed his eyes sharply and gripped the grass in his fingers tighter, as if he wanted to hug the ground,
"How? Was it you?"
He didn't know how he got here, he didn't know what he did to deserve it, but the thought that luck hadn't forgotten him after all made him roll onto his back in delight.
"Thank you," he laughed, "thank you...thank you, thank you." he was repeating in a burst of energy he hadn't felt in countless decades.
His long dark hair with orange streaks spread out in the bright green grass. The young man just rolled around contentedly on the ground, laughing and ignoring how his gold-black robes were getting dirty with soil. But it didn't matter to him. He didn't care why he was in beautiful clothes when he had been in the cell all this time, he didn't care why he was outside when he didn't remember any escape. He was not interested in anything at all.
The only thing that mattered was that Luck hadn't completely abandoned him, that it had given him a second chance...and he wasn't going to waste a second of it. It was just a shame that life in the current world wasn't as easy as it had used to be. It was just a shame that his luck wasn't what it had been back then, and a shame that people didn't respect his kind anymore.
However, he was soon to find all this out for himself. And if he knew what was waiting for him outside, he might have preferred to stay in his cell forever.
***
The hard blows of the heavy instrument landed on his exposed back. With each hit, his pained scream ripped through the room, as the executioner punished him with absolutely no care about his torment. Sweat was running down his forehead, blood was flowing from his mouth as he had bitten his tongue a long time ago. He was trying in vain to count how many blows were left to finish. He wasn´t suppressing his screams. He knew they were required, he knew that if the king thought he didn't feel it enough, his punishment would only be prolonged and his pain would be worse.
And so he just clenched his fists on the ground, holding back tears and waiting for the end of the suffering that the brutal tool was bringing him.
"How could you allow it?! Where have you been?! Where?!" screamed the man, who could be opposed by no one, not even his son, let alone him, an ordinary guard.
"Your only task was to supervise one cell! No one ever escaped! He had no way to escape! How could he get to the surface! How?!" he yelled.
But Ylre knew he didn't want an answer, he knew that whatever he said wouldn't satisfy him and his punishment wouldn't be lessened. It was true that he had failed in his duties, it was true that he hadn´t paid attention to the only cell he was in charge, the one he had guarded for the last centuries. It was normal for him to receive a punishment.
As a middle-class Infey, Ylre didn't have many rights to voice his opinion. Who had what privileges was already decided by Luck at their birth...and he wasn't loved enough to be part of the government. However, the upper class whose luck was tied to the source itself, individuals able to communicate with Lack and respected by all, usually didn´t look down on the lower Infeys.
Infey was a peaceful country. The lowest catered to the needs of the higher. The middle-class was blessed to receive a piece of luck from the chosen rulers, and then serve their master for the rest of their long lives. Luck itself was guarded by the upper-class, and everything worked. It was a harmonious community...until someone made a mistake...like he did.
At some point, however, the blows creased. His bloody back no longer received new wounds, and Ylre had no idea whether he was allowed to look up or wait for the king to speak.
,,Where have you been? Speak!" the king yelled. His magnificent golden robe matched the yellow strands in his otherwise dark hair so much that one would rather look at the sun than directly at him.
"I was in the cell... I saw a bright light... I don't remember anything more," he said quietly, "I'm sorry."
The man in front of him gritted his teeth. With a single gesture behind Ylre, he let the guard receive another blow with the iron whip, which made him cry out again.
"You don't remember?" he laughed, "Are you trying to tell me that Luck alone got him out? Do you think I'm crazy? Have you forgotten who I am? Who the hell am I, Ylre, who?"
"Your Majesty, my king." he muttered.
"Exactly... do you think I don't know Luck? Do you think it would save Rue? What good would that do?" he grumbled.
"I don't know. " Ylre admitted.
"You don't know anything." he aggressively nodded at the guy who whipped Ylre again.
"AAGH!" the man closed his eyes sharply and took a deep breath. But he couldn't give the king a better answer through, and he knew he couldn't think of one.
"Do you know what´s at stake if we let him run around the world? Do you know what is at stake?" he shouted.
"I know." he noded.
"So you know... and yet you let him get away?!" he laughed.
"I'm sorry...it's my fault." he admitted.
"I should kill you for that...if I were your master, if my luck was coursing through you, I would take everything from you in a second! In a second! You deserve it! " he yelled.
"I know." Ylre knew that for this man, killing others with this disgusting method was nothing special.
For a while the hall remained silent. Ylre was breathing heavily as his whole body ached, trying to stay on his knees and not fall face first to the floor. Wondering as he did so how this would tour out for him. When he finally heard the sound of the king's boots tapping in his direction, a bitter feeling of dread filled him. He swallowed the blood in his mouth and lowered his gaze deeper to the ground. He hoped he would survive today.
A rough pair of hands grabbed his chin and lifted his face up. Ylre's blue eyes met the king's golden ones and his body went stiffened. Even though he was his superior, even though he was their supreme, even though he was closest one to Luck and was supposed to embody goodness, he terrified Ylre.
"Don't think your death will solve this," he said, "you're going to bring him back, do you understand?" he growled.
Ylre blinked a few times before trying to nod, "Understood."
"If you won´t succeed, I don't care who you belong to, I'll have you killed in another way, do you understand?" he menaced.
And Ylre knew that these weren't empty threats: "I understand."
The king pierced him with his gaze for a moment before letting go of his face and turning to leave. Ylre heard the door to the hall close as the man with the whip withdrew and he was left alone. As soon as he didn't have to kneel anymore, he collapsed to the floor and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and cleared his throat loudly as his wounds were still hurting. But it didn't matter because he was lucky that he´d survived at all.
And even though his life was uncertain, even though he had a mission that was far from easy, Ylre knew he had no choice. Because finding Rue was something he had to do, no matter the cost. The sooner the better.