"⩯T Ѧ⍥T!"
A familiar voice roused Mr. Edward from yet another forced slumber, a jolt of resonance rushing through his system as he locked eyes with the owner of such a gentle tone.
It was the woman who had embraced him before his imprisonment, a presence that, while fleeting, had offered an inexplicable sense of comfort.
Mr. Edward smiled at this woman, or at least tried to smile as unlike the incident with his burnt face, the consequences of his lacerations did not just go away.
She smiled back.
Despite that, Mr. Edward tried to focus on the situation at hand not because of anything else but because of the presence of resources that could be of help to his plight.
In front of him was a bowl of meat, an odious repository of much-needed protein, and yet it was not rotten.
And so, as fast as he could, Mr. Edward lunged towards the bowl, devouring its contents, hoping not just to satiate his gnawing hunger but to aid the healing process of his wounds.
The woman watched him, and with the rate at which he ate, Mr. Edward was done within seconds.
Afterward, he took a few gulps of water before crawling to a side of the cave, where he rested his back, proceeding to survey his surroundings.
"I'm still in the cave, that much is certain, but the guard is gone," Mr. Edward thought while glancing at the empty table.
It was then that he looked towards the green-eyed woman who Mr. Edward, try as he might, was unable to view with detachment, his thoughts or sentiments clouded by heavy emotion, one that was not his but his at the same time.
It was not his emotions yet it was the concept of his emotions.
This realization had long since struck him: she wasn't just a relative; she was his mother or the mother of the boy who possessed this body.
As inscrutable as one would find the concept of a soul, transmigration, and a good portion of what had been witnessed so far, it was his reality, one not tainted by schizophrenia as much as he could tell.
At that moment, the woman rose and began packing her bags, her movements deliberate but tinged with haste, her eyes darting nervously.
With that one could discern that she had arrived at this cave through esoteric means, hence her rush to exit the scene.
Mr. Edward did not blame her but watched as her wraithlike form disappeared into the extremities of the cave far beyond his field of vision, though he would be lying if he said he did not feel a hint of desolation from losing the only vestige of human contact that did not view him with malice or apathy.
A guard suddenly appeared in his field of view, once again utilizing the gap in his attentiveness to move unnoticed.
The guard, which Mr. Edward noted was different from the first one, held in his left hand two sacks from which he respectively retrieved a slab of meat and some raw mushrooms, placing them heavily atop his tray.
He was more robust and balanced, and although he donned the same armor as the guard before, certain ornaments on his armor and his aura of command provoked the notion that he was of a higher rank, now a far-faced assumption more than anything else but still.
Quietly he moved on, repeating the motion five more times before returning to his table, laying back as he observed the cells from his location.
Mr. Edward, careful not to draw attention to himself, moved his eyes away from the guard while savoring the little bit of information he had retrieved, "six cells, huh," he mused.
Judging by the sounds he had heard, they appeared to be five cells meaning at least five more people, though he could not be sure for now.
With that, he turned to inspect the food he had been served to decide if it should be consumed now or was loathsome enough to be saved for later, considering the fact that he barely felt sated and was utterly unaware of the feeding arrangements of this place.
"The meat is bad," Mr. Edward immediately concluded upon viewing the maggot-infested slab of flesh before him, quickly removing it from his plate to avoid it being tainted by the fungoid residue.
With that, he discarded it into one of the many puddles of water formed within the cave before tentatively picking up the mushroom.
It was pure white, unnaturally so, its umbra-shaped exterior seemingly glowing in a haunting manner.
There was no way to identify the nature of the obscure plant as he was unfamiliar with the flora of this world.
This made it inexplicably unwise to eat this plant.
With that in mind, Mr. Edward threw the mushroom in his mouth.
He reasoned that his cellmates fed the same food and had survived—though their condition was uncertain.
A cloyingly bitter taste assaulted his senses, burrowing itself all the way to the deeper extremities of his throat, instantly making Mr. Edward audibly gag.
"Ha!"
His plight elicited a slight chuckle from the guard, the kind of laugh that made it clear he'd seen this before—and enjoyed it.
Sure enough, Mr. Edward could hear other gag sounds from five more people, the sounds being too brief to determine their gender.
The presence of people sparked more questions within Mr. Edward but also relieved him, his stable mental state allowing a mental re-examination of his general situation.
"I initially assumed this prison would be significantly more dangerous than the one I perished in previously. That assumption, however, seems... flawed."
"Not because it is any safer no, the physical conditions here are abysmal, but because there is an unexpected variable: non-hostile human contact. Even limited interaction could stave off the psychological degradation of isolation. That said, communication remains an obstacle. If I could establish a rudimentary form of cooperation with the other prisoners, I might acquire the language through observational learning and association, a crude but effective methodology."
Mr. Edward took a breath while glancing at his torn ragged clothes, examining his physical plight more acutely.
"To assess my current condition thus far, I've experienced no schizophrenic episodes, which could suggest either remission or that this environment is a construct of my fancy.. unlikely, given the level of sensory detail," he thought to himself.
It was stable, his mental state that was but there were even more pressing issues.
"My physical state is concerning. Clothed lacerations extend across both legs, my torso, and my chest, courtesy of prior trauma. My previous blackouts, coupled with the unchanging dimness of light and the absence of any discernible time-keeping mechanism, have likely disrupted my circadian rhythm."
"Nutritional deprivation compounds the issue; the rations provided consist of decayed meat I cannot safely consume and an unidentifiable, barely edible mushroom. The mushroom's nutritional properties and potential toxicity remain unknown. A full analysis of my options is imperative."
With all that said Mr. Edward frowned, his mind racing.
"Addressing these issues requires a methodical approach. First, I must mitigate the nutritional deficit. Using myself as the test subject I am already determining whether the mushrooms are safe for long-term consumption by observing immediate effects. If deemed safe, I can ration the next batch to preserve energy reserves; if not, then..."
Mr. Edward paused his line of reasoning; it would appear that his decisive folly of consuming the entire mushroom was beginning to be met with belated regret. Fortunately, he managed to quell that feeling and move on.
"Next, the circadian disruption requires a makeshift timekeeping mechanism. I could track intervals of feeding or other predictable activities, assuming they occur consistently, to simulate a cycle." He mused while glancing at the guard, his thoughts continuing.
"Communication is paramount, if I can establish rapport with even one of the other prisoners, I could not only decode their language but gain allies, as cooperation even at a minimal level may be key to survival, for now, I'll try to make the most of my time here and not die," Mr. Edward concluded.
With a rough plan being set, Mr. Edward laid back against the cave, covertly observing the guard, waiting patiently for any other abnormality.
He would have appreciated a serendipitous conversation, a new prisoner placed in the same cell as himself, or at least the cave blasting open with the blast, killing everyone around, leaving only him alive and free to escape.
Alas, fantasy remained just that, fantasy, and with no new development, Mr. Edward closed his eyes, with the intent to sleep.
"Shhhhh!"
The sound of a new and rather forced stream of liquid prompted him to open his eyes and pay attention.
Said new sound was followed by an audible exhale leading Mr. Edward to understand that the sound belonged to another prisoner who seemed to be urinating.
This information was worthless to him, so he decided to rest, turning his head into the cave to lay in a more comfortable position, his decision allowing his eyes to lock with another pair.
These pair of eyes did not belong to him and instead bore similarities to that of a reptilian: blood red, vertical, and slit-shaped pupils bearing unknown intent.
The sinister owner of these eyes could hardly be seen, its form so dark that it effortlessly blended in with the surroundings of the cave, a notion that chilled Mr. Edward a bit.