Chapter 21: Answers for Answers
Ignis gently supported the boy, guiding him to sit against the same stalagmite she had been leaning on earlier. The boy's eyes fluttered closed almost immediately, his head drooping as exhaustion claimed him.
"This is my apprentice, Aurthur," Ignis introduced, her voice softer than usual. It seemed like an afterthought rather than a formal introduction.
Oswin glanced at the boy, his blood-matted hair and weary face. There was no curiosity in Oswin's expression — just a quiet, detached acknowledgment. He nodded once and returned his gaze to Ignis, his mind still sorting through the information she had shared earlier.
Aurthur had barely leaned against the stalagmite for a few moments when his body convulsed violently. His chest split open with a sickening rip, flesh twisting and folding until a jagged, tooth-lined maw formed where his ribs should have been. His left arm jerked up, trembling, before stiffly pointing into the dark depths of the cavern.
Then, in a voice all too familiar, the maw spoke.
"Rest is up. Walk in that direction, subjects."
Caro.
Oswin's breath hitched. Ignis clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palm.
They had no choice. No defiance. No will.
Sheep in a shepherd's grasp, obeying their master.
Just lab rats, stumbling toward the next experiment.
But Ignis was furious. Maybe for Aurthur. Maybe for herself.
Without a word, she hoisted Aurthur onto her back, gripping his hands tightly as if to reassure him—or perhaps herself. Her movements were rigid, controlled, but the intensity in her eyes betrayed the storm brewing inside her.
They didn't walk together.
Oswin moved forward with Aria, their footsteps creating ripples in the thick pool of blood beneath them. The viscous liquid clung to their feet, dragging with each step as if reluctant to let them go.
The silence between them was heavy, suffocating. Neither spoke. There was nothing to say.
Behind them, Ignis followed at a distance, Aurthur limp on her back. Her grip on his hands was tight, almost painful, but he didn't resist. He couldn't.
They were all just moving forward—like cattle to the slaughter, or rats to be experimented on.
As they walked, the silence weighed on them, thick and suffocating, despite the constant splashing of their footsteps in the blood.
Then, at a distance, a small dot of light flickered—faint, with a yellow hue. It was distant, almost unreal, but as they continued forward, it grew.
With every tens of steps, the hue intensified, and the light expanded, swallowing more of the cavern's darkness. It wasn't long before they found themselves standing beneath a massive hole in the ceiling.
It was enormous—so vast that an elephant could have plummeted through without ever grazing the edges. The jagged rock around its rim suggested it wasn't naturally formed, as if something had forcefully torn through the cavern's ceiling, leaving a gaping wound in the stone.
The hole stretched high, an abyss of light, its true end hidden from view. Oswin hadn't noticed before, but Arthur was awake now. Still on Ignis's back.
Not that it mattered right now. There were more pressing concerns.
How were they supposed to go up?
Oswin and Aria turned to Ignis, expecting an answer—some way forward, some plan. But before anything could be said.
A mass of tentacle-like appendages, slick and lined with countless unblinking eyes, emerged, snatching Oswin first, then Aria by the waist. The grip was firm, yet disturbingly gentle, as if handling something fragile.
One of the writhing tendrils twisted, reshaping itself into a grotesque imitation of a human head—twice the size of Oswin's own. And not just any head. The familiar face of the woman he had spoken to when he first awoke.
Caro.
Oswin exhaled sharply. Of course, it was her.
He barely reacted. No flinch, no struggle. Just tired recognition.
Aria, however, was different. She thrashed in the creature's grip, limbs jerking wildly. Her silent screams clawed at the air, her mouth open in sheer terror, but no sound came. Tears streamed down her face as she fought uselessly against the tendril's hold, her small frame wracked with desperate resistance.
The tentacles slowly lifted all four of them, their slick, pulsating forms tightening just enough to keep them restrained but not crushed. Oswin's eyes trailed upward, following the writhing appendages to their source.
The tentacles slithered down from the abyss above. Whatever they belonged to remained unseen… for now.
The grotesque, oversized head of Caro, molded from writhing flesh at the end of one tentacle, twisted slightly to face Oswin. Its expression was unsettling—smirking, yet utterly devoid of warmth.
"Anything you want to ask?" Caro's voice dripped with amusement, her words laced with mockery. "Answers for answers… that was our deal, right?"
The sarcasm was unmistakable, a cruel taunt more than an invitation.
Oswin stared at her, his mind calculating. He could ask something. He could try to twist her words, pull some fragment of truth from the madness.
But would it even matter?
Oswin's lips parted slightly before he spoke, hesitation lacing his words.
"What will you do with me and my sister?"
Caro chuckled, her jagged, shifting form twisting in amusement.
"I will do nothing to your sister, as we agreed."
Her voice lingered on the words 'your sister', stretching them out, as if savoring the taste of a private joke. Oswin felt a cold weight settle in his chest.
"But you?" The mockery in her voice was unmistakable. "I will be showing you to my friends, and we will be examining you together."
The way she said examining—so casual, so nonchalant—made it clear: this wasn't going to be a simple study session.
Aria's struggles became frantic. Silent gasps escaped her throat, her nails digging into the flesh of the writhing limb restraining her. She couldn't scream, but the terror in her wide, tear-streaked eyes screamed for her.
Ignis, still suspended in the air, looked between Oswin and Caro, her expression darkening. There was something here—something she wasn't being told.
Oswin swallowed, his throat dry. His mind had already expected something like this. It wasn't fear that gripped him, not anymore.
It was inevitability.
Ignis, still caught in the tentacle's grasp, looked at him with narrowed eyes. Betrayal.
She had somewhat trusted him. But now? That trust was crumbling.
"Answers for answers."
That was the deal Caro had mentioned. But what could he possibly offer? He was just a citizen. A nobody.
Yet, Caro was interested in him. So were her so called 'friends'.
Something wasn't right.
The tentacles coiled tighter for a moment before pressing their cold, slimy ends against the necks of Oswin, Ignis, and Aurthur. A dull suffocation settled against their throats—heavy, oppressive, stealing away something vital.
Then, as quickly as it came, the pressure lifted.
Oswin tried to speak. Nothing came out. Not even a whisper.
Ignis and Aurthur reacted instantly. Aurthur's eyes widened in pure horror as he clutched at his throat, his breaths coming out in panicked gasps. He tried to scream. Nothing.
Ignis, on the other hand, did not panic. She inhaled sharply, steadied herself. Her fists clenched, her eyes darted between Oswin and Caro. The betrayal she had felt before was now overshadowed by something else—cold, calculating anger.
Aria was left untouched—there was no need for Caro to alter her throat. She could not speak anyway.
Her eyes darted between them, desperation clear as she reached toward Oswin, her fingers trembling, her breath hitching in panicked gasps. She tried to scream, tried to make a sound—anything—but there was only the quiet, only the sound of her struggles against the tentacle's grip.
Oswin, Ignis, and Aurthur were completely mute now. Their voices stolen. And yet, it was Aria who looked the most horrified.
To Aria, this was unbearable. She was losing her beloved brother, forced to watch as he was dragged toward suffering, and she could do nothing to stop it.
Fray had done so much to protect her. Always shielding her, always keeping her safe. But she? She saw herself as nothing more than dead weight.
She had always felt like an extra in their small family of three. Her father and brother had never treated her that way, but she couldn't shake the feeling. The world outside their home had made sure of that. She had no voice. No 'gift' And for that, the people beyond her family despised her.
But her father had defied them all. He had given her an education—an impossible luxury for someone like her. He had fought for her. And when their father passed, Fray had sworn to protect her in his place.
Even now, he was keeping that promise. He was giving himself up to protect her.
And now, she had to watch him lose his voice.
It was too much to bear.