Chapter Three: Part One

The rotunda was his favorite room. He liked to sit in the center of the room, between the four pipes, and just look up. The rotunda above was the same cream color as the rest of the room, but he found comfort looking up and watching the sun filter through the top.

"Oh, Daunte."

He turned his head and brightened when she saw her. "Mom!" He raced over and hugged her around the waist. She hugged him back as best as she could, but it was difficult because of the baby in her arms.

"Your father and I have been looking for you, but I should've guessed you would be up here. Did you know this room is where they used to give morning and evening sermons?"

"They would stand right there, right?" Daunte asked, pointing to the spot between the pipes, where he had been standing. The four pipes were currently covered, but they arched out of the floor at different directions, and were taller than he was. "And they would speak into the pipes, right?"

"Yes. The place is so large, you know, and there was never a moment's rest, so Clerics would give the Morning Prayer from up here so that it could be heard all throughout the facility."

"So if I remove one of the pipe's lids, then everyone all over will hear me speak?"

"In a way, yes. But more importantly, we were looking for you." She touched her finger to Daunte's chin and turned his head up so he was looking at her. "Today was the day we were running drills, Daunte."

"Oh, I forgot!" Daunte wailed in dismay, slapping a hand to his forehead. "I'm so sorry, Mom!"

"No, it's fine. You're still a child and you want to play. I know we've put you in a precarious situation, but we want to be sure that you stay safe. That Arin stays safe. I couldn't live with myself if either of you was hurt, or worse."

Daunte stared at Arin. His baby brother was tugging on their mother's hood, and strands of black hair began peeking out. "Can I hold him?" he held his arms out.

She leaned down and positioned Arin in his arms in such a way so that he could hold him without dropping him. "You're a wonderful big brother, Daunte. And I know that your father and I have put a lot of pressure on you. But I want you to promise me to look out for Arin if anything happens to us."

The answer of was automatic. "Of course I'll look out for him. He's my brother, Mom."

She smiled back at him sweetly. But…there was a tinge of sadness in that smile. "I know, Daunte…"

Daunte opened his eyes and saw mostly darkness. He blinked rapidly, and his eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light. He felt a twinge of pain in his shoulder, and the memories flooded through him and fear snapped through his body.

I was taken prisoner.

He quickly sat up and checked his hands. He wasn't surprised to see his tekko gone, but he was surprised to still see the gloves on his hands. His breathing became unsteady as he peeled back the glove on his right hand with trembling fingers. To his utter amazement, he still saw the dark mud smeared onto his hand. He licked his thumb and wiped at a corner of the dirt. It rubbed away, revealing the outline of the Rune of Restoration.

T-They didn't find my Rune? They seriously didn't find my Rune?! He quickly pulled the glove back down. So…they don't know I have the True Rune? O-Or maybe they were so horrified by the condition of my hands that they didn't want to examine me further? He shuddered and shook his head. That thought wasn't exactly comforting.

But he took comfort in the fact that they hadn't found his True Rune. He let out a sigh of relief and took in the room around him for the first time. It was a prison cell—a very stereotypical prison cell with only a bed for furniture. There was no wall to his left, only bars, and above his head to his right was a small window that was open to the elements but similarly barred. Daunte slowly rose to his feet and walked the perimeter of the room. It was dark in the cell, and from what little he could see outside he saw that it was either dawn or dusk. He gingerly felt the areas of his injuries—his shoulder, his arm, the back of his head. They were sore, but he felt no bandages.

They must have used a Water or Wind Rune on me to heal me. Not enough to bring me back to full health, but enough to ensure that I didn't die.

Daunte approached the door to his cell. He looked around to see if he could see a guard, and though he found one he also saw that the guard was fast asleep at his desk. He tugged at the door to test its strength. Predictably, it didn't budge.

I need to get out of here.

Remembering that the Rune of Restoration had given him enough strength to pull Surya up and prevent the prince from falling to his death, Daunte gripped the door with his right hand. Rune of Restoration, please give me the strength to tear down this door so that I can escape!

He tugged again at the door. But again, the door didn't budge. Daunte glared at the back of his hand. Why won't you help me? If I don't get out of here they're going to kill me, and then somebody else is going to claim you! Does that matter to you?

"Well, well, well."

Daunte jumped in shock and looked through his bars. Across the aisle in the cell northeast to his, a woman was standing at her own bars. His eyes went wide with shock. He knew her. Or rather, he recognize her. The shoulder-length curly dark red hair that was almost black. The half-lidded violet eyes. The sultry demeanor she gave off with her body language and lazy smile. He had definitely seen her somewhere before.

She was in Baltas. In that house that was under guard.

"The Theocracy certainly has a knack for arresting handsome young men, doesn't it?" the woman purred at him. "Why, not too long ago a broody young man was in the very cell you currently occupy. While you're no less handsome, I do hope you're less broody and a little chattierthan he was."

She leaned against the bars, and Daunte noticed her attire for the first time. She wasn't wearing a veil, but a shapeless robe that stretched down to her feet. The robe had a hood, but the hood was currently pulled back.

But the attire itself was dark scarlet in color.

"What's your name, boy?" the woman continued to speak to him. "Since we're neighbors, we might as well become acquainted."

Daunte shook his head, trying to shake off the unease settling in his stomach. "W-Where are we?"

"We're at Sheikh Keiran Umed's Garrison," the woman responded. "We're both currently prisoners of his. His only prisoners, so we might as well become friendly with each other. There's little else to do down here."

Daunte almost wanted to ask her what she had done to get arrested for, but decided against it. I need to get out of here and get back to the Liberation Army. Wherever they currently are now.

"I've got your breakfast."

Daunte jumped to attention as a teenage boy came down the stairs, balancing two trays of food in his arms. Daunte remembered him from the battle, but he also remembered him from the Bridge of Faith. His name…was it Lenny? Lanny?

"Right on time as always, Lanny," the woman greeted the young soldier. "Why don't you keep me company today?" she batted her eyelashes playfully.

"Please don't talk to me," Lanny told her curtly. The guard on duty had woken up and took one of the trays from Lanny. He set it on the tray stand on the woman's cell as Lanny turned to Daunte. "Here's your breakfast."

Instead of placing Daunte's tray on the tray stand, however, Lanny unceremoniously dropped the tray on the floor just outside Daunte's cell. The sound startled the guarded, and the woman huffed at Lanny with disapproval. "That's rather unkind."

"I'm sorry, did I hurt your feelings?" Lanny asked Daunte sardonically. The boy was glaring murderously at Daunte through the bars. "Well, deal with it. You'll get nothing else from us, you traitorous heathen."

Daunte stared blankly at him. He knew he shouldn't have been surprised by the hostility from the Sheikh's soldiers, but he shifted with discomfort at the hate in Lanny's face. "I…"

"Lanny?"

Lanny snapped to attention, as did the other guard, as two other figures came down the steps. Daunte quickly stepped away from the bars as he recognized the Sheikh uniform the man in front wore. Keiran Umed. And…he recognized Mihr walking behind Keiran, and his shoulder tingled with pain once more.

"Lanny," Keiran said at length, looking down at the mess of food on the floor. "Can you explain that, please?"

"H-He did it!" Lanny lied, jabbing a finger at Daunte. "I set the tray down and he shoved it off the stand!"

"Oh, it isn't nice to lie," the woman quipped playfully from her cell.

Keiran's eyes lifted and they stared at Daunte. "I have taken you in and have treated your injuries. I don't appreciate any hostility shown to my soldiers."

Daunte gaped at him, and then gaped at Lanny. Lanny also looked surprised that Keiran believed him. "Lanny, go and get another breakfast for the prisoner."

"W-What?" Lanny sputtered. "S-Sir, I don't think we should take food away from the other soldiers just because this heathen wasted food!"

"I don't punish prisoners by starving them," Keiran told him sharply. "Now, please go and get another breakfast for him."

"I-I…yes, Sir." Lanny saluted and glared at Daunte once more before hurrying back up the stairs.

"Well," Keiran said, turning to face the bars. "Since you're responsible for this mess, you're going to clean it up." he motioned to the guard, who stepped forward to unlock the cell door.

"Please don't be so hard on the boy," the woman said, though her tone was still playful. "It's not his fault that Lanny dropped his tray on the floor."

"I don't think I need to remind you to not speak to any of my soldiers, my Lady," Keiran told her curtly. He turned back to Daunte and gestured to the mess on the floor. "Clean this up. We'll speak afterwards."

Daunte bit down on his lower lip. While he appreciated that Keiran Umed was not punishing him by depriving him of food (a punishment he was all too familiar with), he hated being punished for something that wasn't his fault.

But I'm simply cleaning up a food spill. This isn't as bad as everything else I've already endured.

Thankfully it was a quick clean. Daunte scooped up all the wasted food off the floor and threw it out. Then he took a wet rag and cleaned up the cereal and milk. Within a few short minutes there was no trace of a mess, even though the smell of food only served to make Daunte hungrier.

"Good," Keiran said. The guard shoved Daunte back into his cell and closed the door. "Your name is Daunte, correct?"

"Yes," Daunte said numbly.

"You're probably wondering why I'm keeping you alive instead of giving you an honorable death as promised."

Daunte was curious, but he said nothing.

"You impressed me with how long you were able to keep up with Mihr," Keiran said. Mihr stepped forward to stand beside him. "Mihr also, was impressed with your skills."

"I've faced men twice your age with years of battle experience who were never able to match me so easily," Mihr said. "Not to mention the fact that I only was able to face you because you sacrificed yourself to save a superior officer. There's not many people out there, man or woman, with such a good constitution."

"H…" Daunte shook his head. "How long have I been here?"

"Three days," Keiran said bluntly. "Your allies in the Liberation Army have fled their headquarters. We've found no traces of them. While I spared you in part out of my respect for you, I also spared you because I thought you had some monetary value as a hostage."

"M-Monetary value?"

"Your capture by me is public knowledge. I had thought that the Liberation Army would have some care to try and rescue you, given the fact that you risked everything to rescue Varnaz Behzadi. Ideally I thought this would bring them back out into the open while they tried to rescue you. Alas…" he opened his hands and shrugged slightly.

"…Alas?" Daunte asked softly.

"I've received no demands from the Liberation Army, and I've seen not a hair of them since the battle. None of my scouts have seen them either. I know that plenty of soldiers had escaped, but no one has moved against us." Keiran paused before he continued. "They seemed to have abandoned you, Daunte."

Daunte shook his head furiously and looked away. He didn't want to believe it, that the Army would abandon him. He didn't want anyone dying on his behalf, so he was glad that nobody was currently visible. But…

They didn't forget me. They couldn't have. They haven't made a move because our defeat was so complete and debilitating that they can't spare any resources to rescue me.

"For all intents and purposes they have abandoned you to your fate," Keiran continued. "So I'm here to offer you a deal. I will set you free and not turn you over to the Theocracy if you provide me with information about where the Liberation Army's current whereabouts are."

Daunte looked back at him defiantly. "I don't know where they are. And even if I did, I would never tell you where they are."

"While your grandstanding is admirable, I don't think you know Bearyl Lutis as well as you think you do," Keiran responded back. "Bearyl Lutis was a Cleric who was once in line to join the Cabinet of High Clerics. Alas, he was exposed as having accepted bribes during the course of his four years as a judiciary Cleric and was defrocked. His reformation of the Liberation Army wasn't out of some desire to better the country. His motivation was clearly spite—revenge, as you will, against the Cabinet of High Clerics who exposed him as the corrupt clergyman he was."

Daunte's nostrils flared. As much as he disliked many of Bearyl's actions, as far as he was concerned bribery accusations paled in comparison to the actions of actual murderers. "So Nether Gate dismissed him for bribery? Since they're a league of killers, I'm not going to be offended by anything they accuse the Liberation Army leader of!"

"Nether Gate?" Keiran echoed slowly. He looked at Mihr. "What is Nether Gate?"

"I don't know," Mihr answered him.

"Nether Gate is an assassins group from Falena," Daunte said hotly. "They killed the real High Clerics and took over their positions in government!"

"Ah." Keiran looked back at Daunte. "That sounds like one of Bearyl Lutis's propaganda tools for Army recruitment. I wouldn't believe everything that man tells you, Daunte. He's already promoted falsehoods against the Theocracy before. Did you know he's spread lies that the Theocracy was responsible for the Kõrkus Massacre? Or how about his accusation that the Theocracy manufactured the Plague that virtually wiped out Farna? The man will stoop to any lows to justify waging war against the Theocracy."

Daunte swallowed thickly. While he wasn't sure about what caused the Plague, and he knew from Roen that the Theocracy wasn't responsible for the Kõrkus Massacre, he definitely believed that the Cabinet of High Clerics was made up of Nether Gate assassins. It wasn't just Bearyl Lutis who had said such—Caesar had said so, and even Oboro said that it was so. But he knew that telling Keiran such things wouldn't make a difference, because Keiran believed them to be a lie.

"I'm still not going to tell you anything," Daunte retorted finally.

"I hope you realize that if you don't tell me anything that I will be compelled to turn you over to the Theocracy," Keiran responded. "Do you know what the Theocracy does to heretics, Daunte? Your execution will be very public and will be very painful."

"I don't care! I'm not going to turn on the Army or my brot—" Daunte stopped himself, but he realized he said too much. No! He's going to find out everything about me!

But Keiran moved not a hair from Daunte's outburst. "I would think about it, Daunte. Within the week you are going to be escorted to Mlkwt Alsmwat to face your charges. I don't anticipate Bearyl Lutis doing anything for you before then, so please consider my offer." He turned to go.

"Oh, don't leave so soon, Sheikh," the woman called out to him. "Why don't we take some time and get to know each other?"

Keiran paused and turned to address her. "A date hasn't been set, my Lady. Until that time comes you will behave yourself and keep to yourself. Is that understood?"

"…Of course, my Lord," the woman responded, sobering up very slightly.

Keiran turned to head to the stairs, just as Lanny was coming down the stairs with Daunte's breakfast. "See to it that you don't drop the tray this time," Keiran told him curtly.

Lanny stiffened, and Daunte watched the Sheikh and Mihr leave with shock. H-He knew I didn't cause that mess? B-But why did he make me clean it up?

"Here's your breakfast," Lanny said sharply, shoving Daunte's tray onto the tray stand. Both the milk and cereal spilled, but it didn't create the mess that had happened before. Daunte gratefully took the tray, noting that the food quality was sub-par, but leagues better than what he'd gotten in the Dark Chasm.

The woman called out to Lanny playfully again, despite Keiran's warning, but the teenager stormed back up the stairs. Daunte ducked his head over his head, trying to push down the nauseating fear he felt as he ate.

If the Army doesn't come for me, I'll need to escape on my own. I need to get out of here before they send me away.

Time passed excruciatingly slow in Daunte's cell. Unlike the Dark Chasm, where he had to perform harsh manual labor, he was simply stuck in his prison cell. The woman across from him continuously tried to strike up a conversation with him, but mostly he just wanted to be left alone. He was able to get a name from her at least—Priscilla—but the hours still dragged on for him.

"—just the worst!"

Two days after Keiran visited him, Daunte was startled by the loud complaining occurring outside his window. He climbed up onto his bed and grabbed the bars over the small windows to pull himself up. Outside he could see that it was still morning, and he saw two-uniformed soldiers standing three meters away arguing.

"Look, I'm just following orders," the soldier on Daunte's left said tersely. "I'm not going to the Sheikh to make demands about guard rotation, Hamal. You're off the schedule for another week, so just take the time to recuperate."

"I'm fully healed!" Hamal argued. "I swear to Nagar that my injuries from the battle are healed! I passed my physical and I've been cleared to return to work! Please, let me come back! I can't afford to take any more time off from work!"

"Hamal, the schedule is final. Unless you can find someone willing to give up their shifts to you, I'm afraid my hands are tied."

"But—"

But the soldier simply shook his head at Hamal and turned to walk away. Hamal watched him go, and he trembled with fury. "Damn it!" he cursed. He punched his own thigh in frustration. "If I don't get back to work and get a paycheck, I'll be short for my bills this month!" he continued to grumble as he stormed away.

Daunte lowered himself down and sat down on the bed. So he was injured during the battle against the Liberation Army? I…don't know how to feel about his predicament.

Lanny brought him his food and continued to smart-mouth him. When he brought Daunte his lunch later on that same day, he set the tray down and promptly stole hale of Daunte's sandwich and bolted back up the stairs. It was very clear to Daunte that Lanny did not like him, but Daunte said nothing and ate what was left of his lunch.

It's okay. I've faced much worse than a kid antagonizing me.

"—what are you doing here, then!"

"I told you I have no choice!"

Daunte paused in eating and looked over his shoulder. He could hear talking from outside his window once again. Curious against his will, he set aside his tray and rose up once more. He was startled to find two pairs of boots so close to his window that he could smell the mud on them. He drew back slightly, but still hung onto the bars.

"So you left your wife with a healer while she was going through contractions?" one soldier said. "Why would you report for your shift if she's about to give birth?"

"I-It was too short notice to call in for my shift," the soldier to Daunte's left said shakily. "I've already received a warning for tardiness. I don't want to risk receiving corporal punishment—and possibly being demoted. I won't help my family if that happens."

"So you choose to not be there for the birth of your firstborn child? Don't you think your priorities are kind of askew?"

"Look, my wife said it was okay for me to come in—"

"And you believed her?"

"I would do anything to be at her side right at this moment! But unless you know of anyone who could cover my shift on such short notice, I'm stuck! Do you know anyone?!"

"I…uh…" the second guard faltered.

"There, you see? So unless you have a means to make this situation better for me, don't criticize me!"

Daunte hesitated. This reminded him strongly of the argument he'd heard just that morning. He wondered if he should tell this soldier about the other's dilemma, or he should remain silent because of the fact that he was a prisoner.

After a moment, he cleared his throat. "E-Excuse me."

"Huh?!" both soldiers jump slightly. "W-What was that?!"

"Down here," Daunte called up to them.

"You!" the first soldier snapped, kneeling down to his level. "How dare you speak to us, heathen?! Get back in your cell!" he grabbed at Daunte's hands, trying to peel them off the bars.

"I-I know how to help you!" Daunte choked out, squeezing his palms to hold on.

"Help me?" the father-to-be quickly knelt down. "What do you mean?"

"Aw, don't listen to him!" the other soldier scolded. "He's just trying to stir up trouble!"

"T-There's another soldier looking to pick up shifts," Daunts said quickly. "His name is Hamal, and he was out in that yard just this morn—" he lost his grip and tumbled backwards onto his bed.

"Hamal," the father-to-be said. He jumped to his feet. "I know who that is. I-I'm going to go find him right now!"

"In the middle of your shift?" his companion said, standing up.

"Do I have any other choice? If I can get someone to cover my shift, I can head straight home to my wife!" he took off without another word.

The other soldier watched him leave in silence before he knelt back down and pressed his covered face to Daunte's window. "Hey, you."

"Y-Yes?" Daunte scrambled off the bed and stood up.

"Why would you help him like that? You're our enemy."

Daunte shrugged stiffly, debating if he should smart-mouth the soldier, be silent, or be honest. Finally he said, "I-It felt like the right thing to do."

The soldier stared at him for a long moment. He seemed genuinely surprised by Daunte's gesture. After that moment he rose back to his feet and walked away.

Daunte let out the breath he hadn't realize he'd been holding in. I…I DID help him, didn't I? Even though we're enemies. But he's still a person, and he should be with his family.

The thought however made his heart clench and he hugged himself. I want to go home, too. But where is home anymore?

The following day wasn't any better for Daunte, even as he heard something uplifting outside.

"Hamal, what are you doing? You're not scheduled for today!"

"Of course I am. I swapped shifted with Rale for the next few days. Said he needed to be home for the birth of his child."

"Oh wow, his wife gave birth?! Good for him! Do you know if it was a boy or girl?"

"I heard it was a boy. But I also heard his wife needed a cesarean because the baby was facing sideways."

"Sideways?!"

"Yeah. I guess it was a good thing I was able to switch shifts with him so quickly because he made it back in time to get that news."

"Thank Nagar for that!"

Daunte managed a smile at that. So his wife and baby are okay. That's good.

"Here's breakfast."

Daunte slowly rose to his feet as Lanny appeared. Per usual the guard delivered Priscilla her tray while Lanny delivered his. The boy glared at Daunte as he faced the bars. "Enjoy," he said sardonically, and promptly dropped the tray. It didn't hit the floor this time, but it did hit the tray stand with a loud 'clang'. Daunte jumped at the sound, as did Priscilla and the other guard. Everything spilled over onto the tray, creating a mess.

Lanny looked at Daunte challengingly, but Daunte said nothing. He calmly slid the tray towards himself and carefully balanced it and set it on the floor. His meal wasn't a total loss, but everything that had been dry food was sopping wet. Daunte bristled inwardly, but still he said nothing.

Priscilla, however, wasn't silent and huffed at Lanny. "Don't you think you've taken this too far? That poor boy has done nothing to you, and yet you treat him like garbage."

"Hasn't done anything?" Lanny echoed. He quickly turned to face Priscilla. "Hasn't done anything?! You know nothing! This heathen killed my brothers and sisters! My soldiers-in-arms! Do you have any idea how many families have lost fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters because people like this decided to wage war against my country?! All the funerals we've conducted, the grieving families, everything—none of this would be happening if it weren't for people like him!" Lanny turned to glare at Daunte. "You—some spoiled punk who doesn't have a clue about how the real world works! This mild discomfort I've given you pales in comparison to the pain you've already inflicted!" he laughed hollowly. "You probably don't even know what true suffering is!"

Daunte was speechless. The emotional pain Lanny barked at him ripped through him. He understood where Lanny was coming from. He may have taken a stand against the Theocracy, but even he understood that even the vilest person had a family who loved them.

But he…he also understood true suffering. It was probably what inspired to say, "I was at the Dark Chasm."

Lanny eyes went wide, and Priscilla sucked in a sharp breath. Daunte stiffened as he realized his mistake. He's going to figure me out, and then he's going to report it to the Sheikh!

Lanny moved in closer until he was standing right in front of the bars. "What did you say?" he asked in a small voice.

Daunte gulped audibly, and hugged his arms. "I…I'm sorry," he said instead of answering, looking Lanny in the eyes. "I'm sorry for the soldiers you lost. B-But I'm sure you realize we were acting in self-defense during that battle. Your Army ambushed us—"

"And your Army was advancing upon this Garrison anyways!" Lanny shot back. "So we were acting in self-defense too!"

Daunte closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It came out shaky. "I know. And I'm sorry. I know that I've caused a great of pain to the families of the soldiers you've lost, and I know my words won't make things better. But I am sorry, Lanny."

Daunte slowly opened his eyes to look at the young soldier. Lanny was still looking at him with shock. Without another word, he turned and slowly headed up the stairs.

"What a mature boy you are, Daunte," Priscilla called out praises to him. "It's nice to see such a nice young boy in such a hostile environment."

Daunte said nothing to her. He walked back over to his bed and sat down. He lowered his hands and looked at the back of his right hand.

He knows now, and that means the Sheikh will figure me out. I don't know if the Liberation Army will come for me, but I know I can't stay here. I must escape.

Thanks to his anxiety, the day dragged on even longer. Surprisingly the soldier on guard duty said nothing to Daunte about his confession about being a Dark Chasm escapee, but Daunte knew that he didn't need to say anything. Lanny would surely do all the talking for him.

Priscilla once again tried to strike up conversations with him, but Daunte wasn't in the mood to talk. He was on edge and couldn't relax. Whenever he heard footsteps approach he would start to hyperventilate, expecting the Sheikh to come down there to question him. To ask to see his hand.

Yet…nothing happened. Lanny came down two more times to deliver their lunch and supper, and the boy said nothing to Daunte. He no longer antagonized Daunte, but he didn't look Daunte in the eye, either. His behavior wasn't reassuring at all.

Night had fallen, and Daunte tried to distract himself by getting ready for bed. But he was too high-strung on emotions to even feel tired, and ended up simply making and unmaking his bed. As the guard lit torches, another soldier hurried down to them and whispered quickly to the guard. The guard stiffened and both ran back upstairs. Daunte watched them go, and swallowed a hard lump in his throat.

I need to go. I need to go!

He tugged on his cell door, trying to find a structural weakness, but the door barely budge. Then he went over to the window and tried tugging on the bars. All that succeeded in him doing was losing his grip and falling backward, hitting the bed but bouncing and landing hard on the stone floor.

"Sweetheart, what are you doing?" Priscilla called from her cell.

Daunte lay there on the floor, stunned from the sudden impact. The intense pain however served to quickly fill him with rage and he shouted in anger. He stood up and turned over his bed. In the far corner he saw a crate, and he quickly turned that over. He turned to find something else to lash out at, but stilled when he felt a sudden brush of air behind him. He quickly turned around and knelt down. Because of how dark the prison cells were he couldn't see anything in this corner, so he reached out with his hands and touched the wall. He felt the damp, stone wall and rubbed his fingers against them until they encountered something different.

It felt like…bars.

Daunte blinked once, and then twice. Yes, it was definitely bars underneath his fingers. He slid his hands around the bars and tugged slightly. His heart jumped as the bars moved. They seemed to slide on hinges. He pulled a little further up, and saw that he was lifting the bars all the way up until they were horizontal to the ground.

Daunte held it open and dipped his hands underneath the grate. The removal of the bars created an opening that was barely twenty-five centimeters tall. But he was certain that it was large enough for him to squeeze through.

I don't know why a grate like this is in a prison cell, but I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth. I'm leaving.