A few days ago I was informed that the Ishta who had attacked Cromvik and me had been caught and was now in the Ishta prison. I don’t know why, but after work I went straight there to visit.
As I stood there in front of his prison cell, separated from him by a see-through magical wall, all manner of thoughts ran through me. He was staring at me, with no sign of recognition. Jaron was his name, but according to the guard who had brought me to his cell, he didn’t react to that name anymore. He was completely lost in his self-made madness. His shiny silver eyes fixed on me but I could see, I was of no interest to him. Without the magical shield this might have been different. Jaron would have felt drawn to me then, because of my strong magical abilities.
I couldn’t help but think that if it hadn’t been for some much needed intervention, I probably would have ended up just like Jaron many years ago.
I heard steps coming from the entrance and ripped myself free of Jaron’s gaze long enough to see who was coming. The guard was bringing a second visitor: Cromvik. Why was he here? I turned back to the cell, not wanting to look at Cromvik. We hadn’t talked since he found out about the silver flecks blemishing my eyes. I didn’t know what to say to him, so I kept quiet, acknowledging his greeting merely with a nod.
For a long time, we stood in silence, watching Jaron sit apathetically on his bed. I noticed that while Jaron met my eyes frequently, he never stared into Cromvik’s. Could he feel that I was much closer to him, to his state, than Cromvik? The thought made me nauseous.
“How did it happen?” his smooth voice echoed through the long hall even though he all but whispered.
I was tempted to ignore his question or pretend I didn’t know what he was talking about, but somehow I felt that I owed him an explanation. “It happened a long time ago. I was young and stupidly wanted to impress someone with my power and my knowledge.”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw him nod. “You must have been pretty far along. How did you get out of it?”
“A friend.” I kept my answer short, hoping that he would leave it at that.
“You must have had a strong connection if he was able to talk sense into you in that state,” Cromvik commented and I just couldn’t leave it at that. He had to know the truth.
I turned to him and locked eyes with him. “He tried. It didn’t work. He tried hard and got killed for it. It was his death that got to me. His death that keeps me from giving in to the urges I feel from time to time. His death that brought me back to life.”
After that I left without looking back. I had to get out of that prison, before the memories swamped me and I broke down.
As I stood there in front of his prison cell, separated from him by a see-through magical wall, all manner of thoughts ran through me. He was staring at me, with no sign of recognition. Jaron was his name, but according to the guard who had brought me to his cell, he didn’t react to that name anymore. He was completely lost in his self-made madness. His shiny silver eyes fixed on me but I could see, I was of no interest to him. Without the magical shield this might have been different. Jaron would have felt drawn to me then, because of my strong magical abilities.
I couldn’t help but think that if it hadn’t been for some much needed intervention, I probably would have ended up just like Jaron many years ago.
I heard steps coming from the entrance and ripped myself free of Jaron’s gaze long enough to see who was coming. The guard was bringing a second visitor: Cromvik. Why was he here? I turned back to the cell, not wanting to look at Cromvik. We hadn’t talked since he found out about the silver flecks blemishing my eyes. I didn’t know what to say to him, so I kept quiet, acknowledging his greeting merely with a nod.
For a long time, we stood in silence, watching Jaron sit apathetically on his bed. I noticed that while Jaron met my eyes frequently, he never stared into Cromvik’s. Could he feel that I was much closer to him, to his state, than Cromvik? The thought made me nauseous.
“How did it happen?” his smooth voice echoed through the long hall even though he all but whispered.
I was tempted to ignore his question or pretend I didn’t know what he was talking about, but somehow I felt that I owed him an explanation. “It happened a long time ago. I was young and stupidly wanted to impress someone with my power and my knowledge.”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw him nod. “You must have been pretty far along. How did you get out of it?”
“A friend.” I kept my answer short, hoping that he would leave it at that.
“You must have had a strong connection if he was able to talk sense into you in that state,” Cromvik commented and I just couldn’t leave it at that. He had to know the truth.
I turned to him and locked eyes with him. “He tried. It didn’t work. He tried hard and got killed for it. It was his death that got to me. His death that keeps me from giving in to the urges I feel from time to time. His death that brought me back to life.”
After that I left without looking back. I had to get out of that prison, before the memories swamped me and I broke down.
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