The dank cell was filled with sand, and smelled of stale sweat and body odor. Rough, sharp edges of brick jutted out from the walls, covered in a sickening display of blood splatter. Thick steel bars rose up from the ground to cover the entrance, sealed with a series of interconnected locks. Only one small window way into the outside world, also covered up with bars. There were no methods of comfort contained with this place, thus Abel and Sherdian sat on the dusty ground. Sheridan immediately turned to Abel to open his mouth to speak.

“You could have at least picked a less civilized town to get us arrested in.” Sheridan snapped quickly, though his face was aligned into a smile.

Abel chuckled. “What can I say, I like greasy whiskey and the all knowing danger of state-sponsored bounty hunters at all times. Who knew there was a garrison of

In the corner, wrapped in blood-stained bandages lay a man shivering. A violet crystalline crust crept out from the wounds like vines wrapping themselves around a wall. His face was entirely secluded from vision due to the bandages, the only parts exposed were his mouth and nose. Every few seconds he would shift over to the other side. Throughout this display of insanity, he was whispering things repeatedly, in an organized cadence. Abel thought this was the ramblings of a lunatic, but maybe it was the muddy whiskey that coursed through his empty belly, or just plain morbid curiosity, so he leaned in to listen.

The bandaged man twitched and undulated on the dirty ground, the grimy sand being ground into his foul wounds. Then his whispers became a little louder, and easier for Abel to hear.

“Shadows gather. The coffin creaks. The dust swirls. Old bones shake. Shadows gather. The coffin creaks. The dust swirls. Old bones shake. Shadows gather --” The man rambled on repeatedly.

Sheridan looked over to Abel, furrowing his eyebrows before speaking in a gruff tone. “What are you doing near that maniac? Probably one of those crystal crazies. The bandages are probably where he tried to bury all of those different crystals in his body. Watch out and he’ll try to grab ya’.”

Abel gave him a stern look before shifting away from the man. He was probably right, a man who just kept repeating his words was definitely crazy.

“People mistake ravening lunatics for prophets all of the time. That’s why we live in the times that we are now. That’s why we’re sitting in a cell. Forced to compete for scraps below a table of lunatics who now run the asylum.” Sheridan scoffed.

Abel began to twiddle his thumbs before the courage from the whiskey bubbled up. Definitely wasn’t vomit, he thought, at least he hoped. Turning his head towards Sheridan, a gamut of feelings swirled deep within. Admiration, pride, regret. These coalesced into a gathering storm. Eventually, like a boiling pot of water, steam began to rise to the surface and he opened his mouth to speak.

“I figured we have some time till our hanging and all. I have a question for you that’s been burning ever since we’ve been on the run.” Abel said sternly.

“What’s that?” Sheridan asked.

“Even before everything that’s happened with the Queen, escaping, being on the run, being a part of the gang, why did you take me in? I was just a nobody on the streets, but you raised me, put a sword in my hand and food in my belly. Why?” Abel responded.

Sheridan closed his eyes for a moment forcefully, considering his thoughts carefully before responding in a calm, concise tone. “I’ve told you before, I felt bad for you. That’s really all there is. You see enough kids on the slimy, smog filled streets before you get tired of it. There’s something that burns within you, that maybe there’s a little good that can be done, so I helped you. Plus I didn’t have any kids, never had time for a wife, so it was partially of convenience. Needed someone to carry on the family name. Not that it can happen now, being disgraced and all.”

Abel continued to stare at him. The itch wasn’t scratched. It still gnawed at him. The stare lasted for hours in his mind, but it was only a matter of minutes, after which he spoke.

“I don’t believe you. I suppose that would be the same answer you’d give if I asked you about why you saved me during the revolution too? You could have saved her. I panicked, I was surrounded. There was no use for me left.” Abel’s hand ran over towards where his left arm would be, the specters of phantom pain surging throughout.

“Sometimes I ask myself the same question. Maybe if she lived, there wouldn’t have been a surrender, we’d still be fighting the good fight. Then sometimes I think that it was all for nothing anyway. The life we live now reminds me of that life is a cruel circle of agonizing pains, followed by a flicker of hope, of happiness, that’s extinguished by the cycle going onwards once again. Fate steps on all of our backs, sometimes it’s just cruel enough to give us time to breathe and relish in it before slamming it back down.” Sheridan said solemnly.

The truth shot through Abel’s heart like an arrow. Sure, he was glad that there was some truth to his statement, but that didn’t deny that it hurt him. He worked his serious stare into a smile. Letting out a small chuckle.

“Well, at least that’s out there. Cynical though a bit? I didn’t know there was a philosophical side to you. Didn’t think you had time to read, or if you could even read.” Abel said.

Sheridan laughed as well. “You sunuva bitch. You know I taught you to read. Do you remember you had trouble with the alphabet?”

“Yeah. I sure do. I remember when I learned the word valiant. I couldn’t pronounce those Vs right so I just kept saying baliant. I remember my first sword had that engraved on the blade. Real joker.” Abel said with a toothy grin.

The laughter began to bellow from them, drowning out the constant ramblings of the bandaged man on the floor. This laughter was interrupted prematurely by the rattlings of a key, followed by heavy footsteps down the hallway towards the cell. After some time, coming into view was a neatly dressed man in similar ivory armor to the guards, however this one was ordained with a beautifully woven crimson cloak. The man that this armor covered was young, one could even suspect he had never seen the horrors of conflict except when you met his cold, dead eyes.

“Now now, what are two former Queensguard doing all the way out here on the frontier? Trying to make some money robbing poor settlers and trams? Going to squander the generous amnesty given to you royalists? Wasn’t it good enough that we strung up your heretic queen for all of you to see? When will you learn?” The soldier said.

Sheridan sat in silence. It was clear to him that the man was trying to get a rise out of them, and Abel took the bait easily. Standing up, beginning to wobble from the lack of food and water, he began shouting at the man.

“It wouldn’t need to be this way if your damn fucking Church and all of it’s so-called leaders didn’t take from everyone. What’s the point of alms if it’s not even going to the poor? Queen Elysria should've never let your influence increase. Her biggest mistake as queen was letting you cockroaches swarm at her feet instead of stomping you like the bugs you are. You claim to be for the common folk, but I’ve seen the results of inquisitions. Have you personally sat on the walls of settlements listening to the people outside cry as they're devoured by the creatures of the night? ‘Oh it’s divine purpose. Those who sin will be judged accordingly.’ They say. It’s a load of shit, I swear I’d love to -- “ Abel coarsely bellowed out, and as he became more heated, his skin became flush, and his hand attempted to rocket out towards the soldier, trying to grab him in an iron grip.

After all of that, the soldier just laughed at him. A shit-eating grin was held across his face, savoring the emotion from Abel. Some of the crystalline etchings on his armor began to glow a swirl of colors. The anger hung in the air like a thick film before finally the soldier addressed him back.

“Brave man speaking to an Inquisitor this way. Instead of being hung up for murder and disruption of the peace, I think we’ll have you tortured for repentance, then burnt for apostasy. I am sorry that your faith is so lacking in the saints that you cling to false royalty who had no interest in the war for the spirit that has been happening in our society. We’re finally winning, and people like you still look to corrupt. This supposed frontier is ever changing, the Wildlands are going to be tamed. We’ll find all of the Wellsprings, and bring civilization.” The Inquisitor said bluntly.

The silence continued to sit around, before another soldier stepped into the room. Saluting the Inquisitor briefly.

“Captain Sergio, we’ve received our orders. We are to head out to the suspected site, guarding the Archivists in their excavation and extraction.” The soldier said.

The Captain nodded, before looking over to the group in the cell before looking back towards the soldier.

“Make sure that the local law enforcement knows that the Inquisition ordered these two to be burnt at the stake, there will be no hanging with them. They have committed apostasy. You are welcome to present my seal.” Sergio said calmly, sharing a grin at the end.

Sheridan just sat there, saying nothing, but watching as the soldiers shuffled out of the cell area into the building proper. After a few moments, he spoke up.

“Don’t worry about speaking up towards him. Whether we are hung or burnt, it’s death anyway. Didn’t think it’d end this way, but hey, at least we pissed off some people.”

Abel furrowed his brow, giving Sheridan a look of disgust.

“There’s still hope to escape. I could pretend I have a stomach ache, and when they come in to check, we could attack them?” He said.

Sheridan let out a massive bellow of laughter before finally returning to a blank stare.

“You’re serious aren’t you?” He said.

Abel looked ashamed for a second, forcing a smile out from beneath.

“Yeah, I was joking. I’m sure you’re probably asking who could joke at a time like this. Gallows humor I suppose.” Abel chuckled.

Sheridan responded with a very direct stare. Internally, he realized that Abel was indeed serious, but decided against calling him out on it. They’re close to death. Everyone has their own reactions to it. He wondered where the rest of the gang was, there was definitely discussion that the two of them were coming to Last Hope for a drink and to scout out some jobs. It was possible they were caught, or they just gave up once they found out the two of them were caught. He didn’t want to think like that, but that’s just how the world worked these days.

Abel had laid down on the disgusting floor, hands folded under his head in an attempt to sleep, Sheridan followed suit, but made sure to keep his eyes on the man in the corner, his hand balled into a fist just in case.

The man had stopped repeating his words, but instead just simply sat shivering on the floor, taking his hands and rubbing them all over his bandages, taking moments to press fingers into his wounds, oozing a pus-like substance onto the bandages, staining them further.

Sheridan’s eyes didn’t close for what seemed like hours to him. Staring at the little moonlight that crept into the cell. Awaiting what would come next.