The Flame Keeper

Chapter 15

A sickening feeling churned inside my gut as the sound of overlapping footsteps pounded against my ears. I could have helped them, could have pleaded with Matilda to let them go, but fear had overcome what empathy I had for them. Fear for my life and those closest to me.

Another wooden door stood parallel to the one we had just come out of, and I could almost hear the silent cries of the prisoners inside, and the silent prayers that they muttered that someone would take pity on them. I turned away, tuning out the hurt that made my heart wrench and guilt boil inside of me, and stared at the soggy floorboards, water droplets from the ceiling creating an ethereal chorus of rhythmical beats against the floor.

A few more steps and we stopped, ears peeled for any sign of lurking guards. Sure enough, one was stationed around the corner of the corridor but had fallen into a deep slumber, lullabied by the faint cries of prisoners and the gloomy atmosphere that inflicted drowsiness on its victims.

"Should I kill him?" Matilda asked, and I nearly recoiled in shock—and so did the others.

Seeing our horrified reactions, she smirked and nudged the guard with her foot, whose head lolled to the side, droll dripping down the side of his face. "Just kidding, just kidding. But if we happen to find someone who isn't as cooperative—" She made a slicing motion against her neck. "—then we'll make sure they go to sleep for a long time."

Ken chuckled but stopped when nobody joined his laughter, the heavy atmosphere that hung over us was not forgiving of tomfoolery. Besides, as the old man had said, we had to make haste.

And so, down another corridor we went, passing by the familiar cobblestone walls that etched strange marks into its rock, prisoners clawing at them as they were dragged away to meet death, and dried blood that had found its way through the cracks and seeped into the water within, giving it a sickening hue. A few metal buckets, corroded by the forces of nature, sat sulking against the wall catching a never-ending stream of droplets that echoed eerily in the corridor as it struck the cool metal.

"Just a few more turns and we shall be at the garbage chute," the old man spoke up as we rounded another corner—no guards had been seen, but distant footsteps had kept us on a careful edge.

We nodded solemnly as we followed the old man, passing by another wooden door that bottled up screams of anguish so that the sane wouldn't succumb to empathy and pity those who had sinned. My heart throbbed but my mind remained firm as my feet thudded ominously against the ground, echoed by the frantic scurrying of footsteps somewhere else in the labyrinth of corridors.

Suddenly, the old man bent over, clutching his neck as flakes of blood stained the wooden floorboards. I immediately rushed to his side, worried that our guide was on his last life, but he waved it off with a bloody hand as he wiped his mouth.

"I... just need to take a little break," the old man said, his voice getting lost in between blood-coated coughs. "Just walk straight ahead, take a left on the second corridor, and then a right on the first corridor you see. I'll be right with you."

Despite his reassurances, I remained by his side for a few more moments, before Matilda angrily scolded me for wasting precious time and that the old man would be able to catch up in no time. Yeah, with him coughing up blood he will, I thought, but scrambled Matilda and Ken, who had just disappeared around the corner.

As we stalked down the corridor, encountering a pair of sleeping guards that made my heart skip a beat, I could still faintly hear the hacking of the old man as he spewed out more and more of what little he had to live on. And then, just before we reached the second corridor as he instructed and were out of earshot, it stopped. Quite abruptly, as if someone had flicked a switch and it had ceased just like that.