Chapter Ten

Yori groaned as the world slowly appeared to her. A scent that made her nose scrunch lingered in the air. Water dripped from a stained ceiling, spattering her bare head. Where was her hat? Sunlight entered the space through its single window, perched in the corner. Through the pane of glass in front of her, she could see her reflection. Bruised, bloody lips. Multiple cuts. A patch of gauze attached to her shoulder. And… Chains. Wrapped around my body. I can’t move… Her mind spiraled. Where were the kids she was entrusted? What had happened? I remember being shot. Then...I can’t remember a single thing. Why?

The sound of clapping parted the silence. Yori squinted against the bright sun until a man came into view. He wore a tailored suit free of grime. Golden bracelets shone on his pale wrists. He regarded her with complete calmness, a set of violet eyes contrasting the rich brown of his clipped hair. Who’s this?

“Well, well,” the man said. “You’ve gone and gotten yourself caught.”

Yori said nothing. This is a classic interrogation situation. I’m a hostage. They can’t kill me. This man probably wants the kids to come rescue me from...whereever this place is. Who is he? Come on, think… Jaw set, she searched her memory for any recognition of this man. He continued to watch her silently before he approached the pane of glass, placing his hand against it. The glass shivered slightly. He withdrew his hand.

“You want to stay quiet?” His eyes glinted with something vicious. “I’m surprised, Yoriana of the Corps. How long has it been? Twenty years? Or...perhaps even longer. Yes. I remember everything. See, my mind stores every bit of information it is fed. You can stay quiet if you want to. You’ll be dead soon, anyway. But before you go, I want to ask you something. Do you remember the night of the blood moon, twenty years ago?”

Yori narrowed her eyes slightly. How does he know me? And...what’s this about a blood moon? Those are… Her breath hitched slightly as her mind began to reel backwards in time, until she was no longer chained in place. She could practically still see the rays of crimson light, a landscape ravaged by flame and ash. Her body bore scars, ones that she was certain would never quite heal. The calls of a male voice sounded both sharp and distant as her feet dragged her forward, their soles badly bruised. The fire had reduced the surrounding homes to mere ash. Yori pushed past the ash, choking back a small sob. There was zero time to get emotional.

That voice screamed for her now. She stumbled past remnants of pillars made of stone and brick, pools of water she was certain was once a bright blue, now reduced to a bitter black. Hand trembling so hard she was sure she would drop her sword, she managed to reach it.

A child’s hand grasped at the hem of her jacket. Then that voice called for her. She knew it now. Benjamin. Yori moved forward, the cries of that child bleeding away until she was no longer aware of them.

Drawn back to the present, she realized her eyes were wet.

“So you remember,” the man said. “You left me to die. All for the sake of a man who never actually loved you. My mother used to feed me sachia when I was a child. Even though her hands bled from the work poverty forced her to do, she still worked hard to make sure I had that food I loved. Just think...if you had listened to me that day, I wonder where I would be. My mother is dead now. If you had acted sooner, maybe my home wouldn’t be a pile of depthless ash.”

“No amount of apologizing will ever make you feel better.” Yori peered into his eyes. “My words won’t make the pain go away. Do you think I don’t feel your pain? Benjamin died from complications gained that night days after I saved him. It was all for naught.”

“Yes, but you still failed that night. The generation that precedes the young is supposed to nourish the people that depend on them. And yet, throughout history, the young suffer and live with resentment deep in their hearts, while the old benefit from the societal laws crafted to make sure they live easy lives. It’s made me disillusioned. So...I want to rip apart that illusion of comfort and push for equality. One’s worth in society is only determined by how what they do affects the people around them.”

“That’s not equality,” Yori said. “You know, you’re the second person who told me about the old and young.... I didn’t listen the first time. Hell, I was even bored out of my mind. People have tried changing me all my life. My roots remain planted, no matter what anybody around me does. You’re suggesting that the old have a duty towards the young? Well...I might just agree. Hell, it’s how I ended up getting shot in the first place. My body just...moved. But even so… life is just a cycle of endless suffering, until Freya Kasun decides to cut the cord. Then you’re left with nothing. So...what’s the point of being bitter?”

The man stared at her with a whitening face. He pressed both hands on the pane of glass, causing it to shake, before stepping through it. Yori just looked at him, not saying another word.

Not even once he drew a knife and began to carve up her flesh.