Asunder Read Free

hear faint weeping behind the cell door. Nearby, water dripped onto stone with a rhythmic tap- tap- tap . Rats squeaked as they emerged from the walls. But he heard nothing in the other cells. If there were prisoners, they were asleep or as good as.
                He should move. He tried to will his feet into motion, but they were frozen. He felt immaterial, as if he were made of the same substance as the shadows and the first step would cause him to be forever lost in them. The panic rose, and his heart pounded. Sweat poured down his face.
                Not now, he quailed. Not yet!
                Cole reached out for the wall. Part of him was fearful his hand would merely pass through, that he would stumble and fall . . . and keep on falling. Down and down he would go, one final scream swallowed by a black oblivion. But his hand touched stone. Blessedly cool stone. He gasped gratefully and pressed his face against it, letting its chill hardness scrape his skin.
                His breathing slowed. He was shaking, but he was still real.
                It's not too late.
                Fumbling in a pocket, he produced a small bundle of cloth. Carefully he unfolded it and the azure radiance of a glowstone emerged. For what was coming next, he would need light.
                It took several tries until he found the key the templar had used. It turned ever so quietly until the lock sprang with a jarring clank . Then he paused— the weeping inside had abruptly halted. Not waiting to see if the noise elicited a response from the guards, Cole pulled the door open and stepped into the cell.
                The glowstone revealed a tiny cell, encrusted with filth. It was empty save for a single bucket and a girl cowering in the corner, dressed in filthy rags splattered dark with blood. Hers? Or someone else's? The girl's black hair hung in wet ropes down her shoulders, and she protectively shielded her face with her arms.
                For a long moment Cole did nothing, shifting from foot to foot as he watched her. Then he hunched low, placing the stone on the floor beside him. Its flickering intensified, sending his shadow dancing madly across the walls. He could smell the girl even over the cell's foulness: heavy sweat, laced with sick. She trembled, no doubt certain he was here to hurt her. So he waited.
                After a time, a pair of reddened eyes peeked out from behind her arms. She was pretty, or had been once. Now she was haggard, exhausted by what ever ordeal she'd gone through to get here. The girl blinked at the glowstone's light, incomprehension warring with terror. She stared at Cole and he stared back.
                "You can see me," he said. His relief was palpable.
                The girl yelped as if struck, scrambling to get as far away from him as she could. She backed herself into a corner of the cell like a caged animal, panting rabidly. Her filthy hands clawed at the walls, as if doing so might allow her to get through. Cole waited until her desperate efforts slowed and she locked eyes on him once again.
                "You can see me," he repeated, more confidently this time.
                "I didn't mean to burn it down," she whispered through ragged breaths. "The fire came out of my hands, but I don't even know why. It all happened so fast, I tried to warn them. . . ." The girl clamped her eyes shut, tears spilling down filthy cheeks. She wiped her face with a shaking hand, smearing the dirt across her face.
                Cole waited. Eventually, her sobs quieted and she looked over at him again, more guardedly this time. Still crouched across from her, he hadn't moved, and he saw the first glimmer of curiosity.
                "Are you a mage, then?" she asked. "They said one would come."
                He hesitated.