Chapter 148: Revenge or Freedom

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’Alright, maybe things didn’t go as planned.’ Aether crossed his arms, quite embezzled. He took a deep breath, inhaling the air of the cell room. He tried to make the bars bend, but it wouldn’t work. It also didn’t help that the room was made out of the king’s Truth or something like that, making it so he couldn’t use his affinity.

It was quite comical, really. How badly their plan failed.

He was supposed to use his affinity to sneak in first and then create a diversion to let the others in. But… forgetting his bane like the dumbass he was, he got caught, since his affinity was weakened.

Even worse, the others didn’t know this; they were still waiting for his signal, and with Riven there, he doubted they would stop listening to his order to wait. It was Riven after all, the boy was more loyal than he should have been.

He lay down on the hard stone floor, staring at the cracked ceiling. Trying to make a plan on how to get out of this cursed place, but his mind was blank. He had learned to rely on his affinity and relics too much recently. So now, without them, he felt lost.

From where his cell was located, the dungeon looked like a place built by someone who didn’t just want prisoners contained; they wanted them small. Shrunk down. Drained of every advantage they walked in with.

His cell wasn’t big. A square of stone that felt colder than the rain outside, with walls that looked like they’d been carved straight from the mountain’s ribs. Every block was uneven, misshapen, pressed together with mortar so old it had turned black. The air tasted stale, like it hadn’t been changed out in a century, and there was this faint, metallic smell clinging to everything, blood, probably. Old. Dried. Forgotten.

The ceiling wasn’t high either. Cracked stone with patches of moisture spreading like bruises. Aether could hear droplets forming overhead, gathering patiently before they fell and hit the floor with this soft plink that echoed more than it should’ve. The sound repeated every few seconds. Taunting him.

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’Seriously, I think I’m going insane from this.’

…

The bars in front of him were thick, thicker than necessary, honestly, like whoever designed them assumed giants might get thrown in here, too.

From his cramped angle on the floor, he could barely see into the hallway outside. Just a small slice, framed by the bars, a flickering torch in its sconce, shadows shifting on stone, the faint outline of another cell across from his. Empty, for now. Lucky bastard.

A slow draft slithered across the floor, carrying cold with it, and Aether shivered despite himself. The dungeon felt alive in the worst way, like every sound was amplified, every breath echoed, and every moment of silence pressed down on him.

Even the darkness had weight here.

And the worst part? He could tell exactly how long he’d been lying there by counting the damn drips from the ceiling.

And even worse than the worst part. There were also these guys.

He frowned, staring at the guards outside his cell. They were the most annoying people ever! Like, could they stop talking about food? He was probably hungrier than they were, plus, not to mention the mocking his rebellion got.

And even even even worse than the part that is worst than the worst part.

’This guy!’ He said, turning to his roommate. Clenching his teeth.

The guy, Aether’s unfortunate cellmate, lay on the bed as he’d fused with it. A sprawled heap of limbs and zero dignity, not even pretending to care they were in a dungeon built to break people.

He looked to be Aether’s age, maybe a year older, with messy black hair that stuck up in a thousand directions, as if he’d tried brushing it once in his life and immediately given up. His bangs kept falling over his eyes, but he didn’t bother to push them away. Too much work.

His clothes were torn, burned in places, and absolutely filthy, but he didn’t seem to mind. He had that relaxed, half-lidded expression like he was lounging in a meadow somewhere, not rotting in a high-security cell that stripped people of their affinities.

He yawned again, loudly, then scratched his cheek with all the energy of a dying sloth.

“Ughhh… hey, do you think they serve food soon?” he mumbled, voice slow and sleepy. “I could kill for a stew. Or bread. Or honestly anything that isn’t this rock.”

Aether’s eye twitched.

The boy finally turned his head toward him, revealing warm brown eyes that somehow looked rested, which was honestly suspicious, considering the conditions.

“What?” he said with a shrug. “You keep glaring at me. I didn’t arrest you.”

He grinned, that lazy, unconcerned grin of someone who has either accepted death or forgotten it’s an option.

The worst part?He seemed genuinely comfortable here.

Like the dungeon wasn’t crushing him, like he could nap through it instead.And Aether hated how painfully loud that made his own thoughts feel.

And he was part of his home Kingdom’s army… no wonder they were losing terribly if all their soldiers were like this. What was his father thinking?

He looked away, irritated, as he ruffled his hair.

“Ugh!”

He was extremely bored, outwardly bored. And worst, the King’s truth also cut him away from the Infinite Library, so he couldn’t even grab a book or something.

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Admitting defeat, he lay back on the floor, looking at his arms, just waiting for something to happen.

…

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As Aether was about to fall asleep for the first time in ages, his cellmate suddenly broke out laughing. Making Aether pick up a small rock and throw it at him, hitting him right in the forehead.

The boy rubbed his wound, chuckling. “What’s so funny?” Aether asked, not seeing whatever he was laughing at as funny.

“Nothing, Nothing… just didn’t expect to be trapped with the prince.”

…

Aether’s eyes widened, almost as if he had seen a ghost.

“What? Are you Aether Moirai? Or am I wrong… wait, am I actually.”

Aether didn’t respond instantly, maybe because he hadn’t expected to be questioned about something like this, to have to answer a question like this.

“No… It’s true, I just didn’t expect you to… actually know who I am.”

“I mean, sure, your name isn’t as talked about, but I doubt you were forgotten. And definitely not by the king.”

Aether felt a sharp pain in his chest. After all this time, he had expected people to have already forgotten him, so hearing they had, made him happy, but also a little guilty; he didn’t know of what, but he couldn’t deny it. Even more when he heard about his father, the old man must really be suffering, if he hadn’t moved on until now… Was it that, did that make him feel guilty, he didn’t want his people to suffer because of him? Even more, his father?

Did that mean that if here were to return right now, the people would still know who he was, after how much he had changed… no, they wouldn’t accept him. They knew him for who he used to be, not for who he was now.

It was the sad truth, but he wasn’t the person they knew anymore; he had changed, and very much so.

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“I wanted to ask, are you the one leading the Withered rebellion?”

Aether glanced at the boy, then back at the ceiling, biting his dry lips.

“That’s right…”

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“But why?”

Aether raised his eyebrow, confused, but didn’t look at him. He knew the answer to this question; many have asked him, yet it never seems to stop surprising him. He had already answered it too many times, to the point he knew to well. For the freedom of the Withered.

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“Revenge.”

It had been the first time he had answered this question with the true answer, the one he hid in his heart. That only he and a few knew about, that being his hands, Riven and Lyra. Every time someone asked him this question, he told them for freedom, so why was he different?

He didn’t trust him more than the people in his personal squad, so why tell him, and not them?

Because he knew that the boy cared more about him than any rebellion of the Withered.

“Didn’t expect the pure prince to have such a goal. But I wanted to ask, if it comes where you have to choose between going home, coming back to use, and continuing your search for revenge.”

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“What will you do?”

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Aether scoffed.

“That’s simple, I-”

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He paused, thinking more about the question. It was the first time someone had ever brought this situation upon him.

“I-…”

He had no idea… if that time came, when he had to make this decision… he would have to just make something up.

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“I would rather if that time never came.”

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