Release

What does one call a blackness so black that shadows look like bright orbs of light? What does one call an expanse so deep, so wide, yet so full of nothing that it becomes impossible to not get lost in it?

Utter emptiness.

Desolation.

Void.

Evil. Kai swore that he could sense an evil presence in the darkness with him. Even though he was completely numb, he knew he could feel the darkness tickling the edges of his conscience.

Good. Evil. Was there any difference between the two? Was a snake condemned for consuming a rodent? Did the rodent to anything wrong to deserve this terrible fate? Perhaps.

Ah. Here was a better question: was the snake evil? He was simply catching a meal to survive. Did that make him a murderer? Perhaps.

Another scenario: a woman walks down a dark alley and is assaulted by a man. Who is at fault? The answer, of course, is the man.

But what of the woman? What part did she play in this terrible philosophical musing? Well, one might say that she should not have been walking down that dark alley in the first place. While this was undoubtedly true, there were other factors that played into it. She had been carrying a large bag of valuables. Her skirt had been well above her knees, and her tunic tight, exposing every curve.

She should have seen this assault coming. But did that make it her fault? Perhaps.

Kai was so confused. His sanity was spiraling six feet under. Who was at fault? Overlord? Himself? Cole? He needed someone to blame for this mess he was in. Cole was the one who had kidnapped him in the first place. Kai was the one who allowed himself to get caught.

But Overlord...need Kai say more? He was evil. Perverted. Not just tainted, not just stained. He was wicked through and through.

So, therefore, this mess was Overlord's fault.

Perhaps.

Kai opened his eyes, then shut them. Then he did it again. There was no difference between the two. He tried to lift his hand in front of his face, but couldn't see or feel it. Had he even lifted it? He imagined himself balling his hand into a fist, but could not feel any muscle response. Since his ears were under the water, he would not hear, either. Not that there was anything to listen to, except maybe the distant sound of his own heavy breathing.

This was torture, plain and simple. That was the only word to describe what he was going through. He was trapped in a tiny, claustrophobic box filled with water that, he had to admit, made him a little nervous. What if it covered his face and drowned him? Of even worse, what if it started dripping on his forehead? Kai shuddered (did he really? He couldn't feel it).

How long had he been in here for? Two hours? Four? It had felt therapeutic for the first hour of so, but now he just wanted out. He hated being trapped like this. A candle did not belong in a box with no air.

Uh-oh. That was another thing.

What about ventilation? Surely this thing did not have any holes in it for breathing; it was too dark. Was he going to die from asphyxiation? He could already feel the air growing thin, hot, and-

Stop it! He told himself. You can't feel anything, remember? Your imagination is just overreacting again.

Overreacting? Anything but. He was underreacting.

Ooh! He just made a new word!

Pull yourself together, Kai snapped. You can do this. You're staying in here until he drags you out on your ear.

Who would drag someone out on their ear, anyway? Didn't that expression mean by their ear?

Insanity. Hmm. What an interesting word. In and sanity put together. You would think that in sanity would mean that you were sane. Nope. It meant the opposite. Why? Because linguists love to confuse people. It was so illogical.

Illogical. Hmm. Another interesting word. Ill and logical put together. Now this one made sense to Kai. Essentially, this compound word meant that, to be illogical, was to literally have ill logic.

Kai could almost feel his brain slipping away, like grease down a dark drain. Spiraling. Round and round, round and round, round and-

Kai was getting desperate. Even though there were no physical bonds, he felt immobilized. Captured by invisible shackles. No way out.

Was he trembling? Who could tell? His body was like a dead weight. In a fit of anger and frustration, he threw his arm out and hit the wall, splashing water everywhere in the process.

Pain. Kai gasped. His arm hurt. The blow echoed in his mind, making him shudder.

Hold on...

He reached out and pinched his arm. It hurt! Had the liquid run out of potency?

Or had he just imagined it all?

Kai groaned inwardly, feeling foolish. Had the plinker messed with his mind, making him imagine the numbness?

That would actually make sense since he had not started feeling the effects until after the Overlord explained to him what was in the needle. His mind, being weak and susceptible to manipulation, had fed his subconscious with a false idea of being completely numb, when in reality he was just zoning out the pain on his own accord.

Acceptance.

As soon as he realized the truth, the floodgates were opened. Pain washed over him like a wave, overwhelming him. His head and shoulder throbbed, his stomach's claws returned, and a terrible ringing invaded his ears.

So now, Kai thought, flinching, the question remains. What did the Overlord shoot into my body?

Zane ran back to the cave as fast as he could, leaving Jay to help Cole along at a much slower pace. The first rays of light were starting to show on the dark horizon, revealing dull grey clouds.

Running, he thought. Why am I always running?

His breathing was heavy and rapid as he came to a stop at the foot of the hill. He whirled his head left and right, looking for stone warriors that obviously weren't there.

He scrambled up the hill as fast as he could, then slid into the hole. "Lloyd?" He called out as his feet made impact with the floor at the bottom. "Lloyd!" His voice echoed loudly in the empty room.

Empty.

No, no, no! Zane looked at the crumpled blankets on the floor and shook his head. The prince was not here.

He crawled back out of the hole, heart racing. What to do, what to do. Lloyd was gone. The prince was gone. This was not good.

He pulled at his hair. The Green Knight was gone. The one destined to fight the Overlord and end the war was gone.

"Lloyd!" He shouted into the open air as he flew down the hill and ran into the trees.

What in the name of the First Spinjitsu Master was he doing? If Lloyd was gone, that meant that those stone warriors had captured him. This noise would only draw them back to him.

He needed to calm down. Deep breaths. He inhaled deeply, filling his chest with the dense, humid air.

That actually did feel better. He exhaled, then began to walk calmly in the direction of the river. He needed to get back to the others and tell them what he had- or rather, what he had not- seen.

"Geez," a familiar voice met Zane's ears, making the Nindroid raise his head and whirl to face it. "What's with the noise? You don't need to shout. I was right here."

Lloyd. Zane's heart began to settle as he saw the tall form of the shirtless prince. "Where were you?" He asked. "Why did you leave the cave?"

Lloyd crossed his arms over his bare chest as he came to a stop at least ten paces away. "Why did you leave the cave?" He retorted. "I was trying to follow Jay."

"We saw a cloaked figure," Zane explained. "Did you see him?"

Lloyd hesitated, looking into the dark woods behind him. "Uh..."

Zane held up a hand. "You know what? Forget that question for now." He made a rushed gesture for Lloyd to follow him, then started jogging tiredly- he was winded from running for so long earlier that night with Cole- toward the river.

"Where are we going?" Lloyd asked. He fell into stride beside Zane easily, being less tired.

"Back to the others," Zane explained. "We need to help them get to the cave before the stone warriors find us."

"Ah," Lloyd said. His torso was covered in a sheen of sweat that glinted in the grey light. "You know, I really don't think that we have to worry about the Overlord's men bothering us tonight."

Zane searched the sandy, brushy expanse for any sign of their companions. Using his enhanced hearing, could pick out their footsteps, Cole's ragged breathing, and Jay's whispers. They were still a ways off. "What makes you think that?" He asked.

Lloyd looked uncomfortable with the question. "I don't know," he said. "I just... My gut tells me that we're safe."

Overlord walked into the chamber with confidence. It had been eight hours since Kai entered the tank. Surely by now, he was out, tattooed, and broken.

Overlord scanned the dark room, then settled his piercing green eyes on the tank in the corner of the room. The door was shut.

"Herez turi Sanguine kake'ele?" Overlord asked the stone warrior guarding the entrance. Was Sanguine still in the hole?

The four-armed guard nodded. "Ket."

Yes. Sanguine was still in there.

Overlord blinked, looking between Kozu's face and the door to the tank. Amazing, he thought, crossing his arms over his chest. Thirty-two hours in chamber four, then eight hours in chamber three?

Normally, a man would last an average of a day under the dripper, and then fight through four hours of sensory deprivation. Kai had surpassed every expectation.

It came as no surprise to him that his enemy had chosen this man to be one of the prophesied Elemental Knights. The Overlord's Dark Knight had amazing physical strength; the ability to cope with long sessions of physical torture. His Sanguine Knight coped with even longer sessions of psychological torture. What would the Blue and White Knights do?

Overlord twisted his lips into a wicked grin. He could not wait to find out.

Cole observed his teammates silently from his position on the cot. His shirt was now buttoned up- thank the First Spinjitsu Master that they hadn't seen his scars- and his wet boots were in Jay's hands; the thief was busy getting them dry. Grey morning light was exploring the floor next to the cave entrance.

Lloyd stood with his back against the dirt wall, arms crossed over a black shirt that Cole had loaned him. "What happened out there?" The teen asked, eying the cup of red wine in the Black Knight's hand. "I'm not gonna lie. You look terrible."

Cole felt terrible, so he could only imagine how he must have looked with his sunken green eyes, tangled black hair, and ashen skin. He tipped up the glass, allowing the warm, bittersweet liquid to pour down his throat. He was not going to get drunk... Or so he told himself.

That experience with the river...it made him shudder every time he thought about it. The way that it gurgled as it flowed around his feet, as if laughing at him. The way that, when Zane touched it, his hand turned grey.

He could not explain how the water made the human body look grey. It just did. Like when one placed a hand into the flames and it came out black. Water was dangerous. Why did everyone deny it? Why were some people so comfortable with the pain that swimming brought? Who were the madmen who danced in the rain, or walked on hot coals?

"Cole?" Lloyd raised an eyebrow. "What's up?"

Cole growled, reluctantly lifting his gaze. "The ceiling," he said.

Lloyd blinked. "Er...no. That's not what I meant."

"Of course it's not," Cole took another sip. "You're a big dreamer. You think beyond the confines of your home or, in this case, cave. So the correct answer would be, the sky is up."

Lloyd uncrossed his arms. "Does anyone else know what he's talking about?" He asked, annoyed. "I don't appreciate being made to look like a..." He trailed off, making a face.

"Like a stolid, daffy teen?" Cole supplied.

Lloyd's face contorted. "Yeah? I think?"

Jay snorted. "You just proved his point, Your Majesty." He looked over at Cole. "Hate to change the subject, but you have any hobbies?"

Cole rotated his wrist, swirling the wine in his glass. "Besides kidnapping obnoxious nobles and making fools of them?" He asked. "Nope. Why do you ask?"

Jay gestured to Cole's hands with a rag. "You're still shaking," he said.

"So?"

"So," Jay sighed, "you're still stressed. It's not good. Find something that you love- something that calms you- and do it."

Cole nodded at Lloyd. "I was doing that already," he said. "Were you not listening to our deep conversation?"

Jay gave him a look that seemed to say, "Knock it off; you know what I really meant."

Cole threw his empty hand into the air. "Then what would you suggest, doctor?" He asked angrily.

"Do you sketch?" Jay asked patiently. "Cook? Or maybe you bake-"

"I don't have an oven."

"Or do you invent stuff?" Jay continued, undaunted. "Tinker with gadgets, transportation vehicles, etcetera?"

"No," Cole sighed. "I don't have any real hobbies, okay? Can we drop it?"

Zane, who had been quiet up to this point, snapped his fingers. "Didn't you say that you were a dancer?" He asked.

Cole flinched. "...Yeah," he said. "But I don't have any music. And it's been years. Most of my songs needed a partner, anyway."

"Hmm," Zane looked distant. "Did you dance to recorded music, or was it all live?"

Cole's head was starting to throb. He took a long gulp of the wine. "Off limits," he growled. "I don't talk about my past. It's behind me, and I need to move on."

"But maybe moving on isn't what you need," Zane argued. "Maybe you need to confront it and-"

"No," Cole said firmly. His deep, firm voice echoed through the cave.

"Yes," Zane answered with an equally demanding tone. "Now answer the question. Was your music recorded?"

"Why is this so important?" Cole shot to his feet, then pitched forward. His vision was swirling. He dropped his half empty glass with a loud clatter.

He had not had that much alcohol. Why did he feel drunk?

Jay, who was still sitting on the floor, lurched forward and caught Cole at the last second. "You see?" He said, frowning as he turned Cole over and shoved him away distastefully. "The hormone rush is still messing with your brain. You can't even keep your balance. Do something that will relax you."

Cole sat upright dizzily. "My...cup, he said slowly. "It spilled."

Zane rushed forward to clean it up. "Do you seriously have no hobbies?" He asked as he picked up the cup and accepted a rag from Jay. "Surely there's something you enjoy doing. You have an empty shelf over there. Are there any books in those crates?"

Cole hesitated, eyes drifting over to the wooden boxes. "Ah..." He floundered.

Zane looked satisfied. He dropped the cup into the pool of water and turned to look at the crates.

"Don't touch those," Cole stuttered. "There's...personal stuff..." Gripping the edge of the cot, he managed to get to his feet. "Get your...hands..." Zane was reaching for the crate closest to him; the one next to his box of spare clothing. "N-no, Zane. Not that one. Stop!" He tripped again, but managed to catch himself this time. Man, but he felt nauseous.

He shouldn't have left that crate out in the open.

Zane opened it up and peeked inside. "What's this?" He asked, a smile growing on his face. "A violin?"

Snap. Cole cringed.

Lloyd straightened and bolted over to Zane's side. "Really?" He asked. "How cool is that? My old nurse used to play one of those."

"You have a nurse?" Jay asked as he got to his feet and joined the others by the crate.

Cole staggered, then fell backwards onto the cot. This was bad. That was his sister's instrument. It was...special. Sacred. And Zane was touching it like he owned it.

"I used to have one," Lloyd said defensively. "When I was like...ten. Don't judge me. She played pretty music."

"Was she one of those old, motherly nurses with the grey hair and a huge bust that-"

Zane held up a hand. "Stop, Jay," he said. "That's enough." He turned to look at Cole, the violin- her violin- in his hands. "Was this your sister's?"

Cole snarled like an animal. "Put it back," he said. "It's not yours."

Zane crossed the distance between them in an instant. He pushed the beautiful wooden instrument in Cole's hands, then set the bow beside him on the blanket. "What is it with you and avoiding the simplest questions?" He asked. "Can you play the violin?"

Cole's mouth hung open as he watched the three sets of eyes on his; four blue, two green. "No," he lied. "I can't play it."

Zane eyed him a moment, doubtful. "Not at all? You don't even know the basic fingering?"

Why did everything have to be so hard? "Yeah," he answered. "I...I know a little, but not much. My ears aren't good at picking up-"

"Oh, stop it," Jay said. "If you don't have a hobby yet, you might as well start here. Pick up that violin and see if you can make some halfway decent music."

They all looked curious; expectant, even. Cole reluctantly picked up the wooden instrument, running his trembling fingers along its smooth neck. He wanted it. He wanted it so badly.

"Well, go on," Lloyd said. "I may not be witty, but I can tell when a guy is making excuses. You do know how to play. Why are you holding back?"

With a resigned sigh, Cole plucked the G-string. The result was a deep, resonating thrum that made the instrument vibrate. It made his mind race. Those nights when mother would pretend that the violin was a guitar, and she would pluck at the strings at random as she sang, making Via cry out in annoyance, insisting that if it didn't have frets, it shouldn't be plucked.

He went to the D-string next. It was higher, sounding more like a twang. The A-string was even higher.

By the time his fingers reached the tiny E-string, his heart felt calmer, if not a bit heavier. Like mud settling in a puddle.

He cringed when he heard the noise that the final string made, then allowed himself a small, inward smile that didn't quite make it to his face. That rogue E-string had never kept its tune. After turning the knob and plucking it again, he reached for the bow.

"Hold on," Jay said. "I thought you said your ears weren't good at picking up the-"

"Zip it," Cole said, though his voice had begun to soften and crack. He lifted the violin to his chin and tried to hold the neck with his left hand. He did not have much control over his fingers, though, so this was a hard thing to accomplish.

Once again, he reached for the bow, then lifted it to the strings.

Now he had to ask himself what song to play. Not something fast; his hands were too unsettled for that. Something slow, but not too simple.

Cole found that, once he let go of his mind, his body worked on its own to create a melody. He forgot about his timidity and his fractured soul, and simply let the music do its work.

The song started slow, filled with melancholy, but not desperation. It was the song of a man who had given up, and was content to stay at the bottom of the dark pit he had dug.

This seemed to impress his audience of three, so he picked up the tempo a bit, letting the music bounce. The man was looking up, wondering if being content was really all that great of a decision.

His fingers lost their tremble, and he allowed his eyes to flutter shut. His bare feet were tapping the floor, creating a beat that propelled his song to greater heights.

It was refreshing. Like a walk through the Northern spruce trees, with the warm sun caressing his back as a breeze from the east ran through his hair. Refreshing, like a stroll with his sister. They would walk through those trees together, and she would point out all the different plants with childlike delight. Her precious bouquets that she would pick and bring back for him, filled with wild geraniums, bluebells and forget-me-nots.

Cole's hand danced across the fingerboard as his other arm ran the bow over the strings. His song slowed momentarily. Via had been running through a meadow late one fall afternoon. Cole had tried to convince her to put on a coat, but she had stoutly refused. She held a yellow buttercup in her hand and was reaching to pick another, but a large white daisy caught her eye. She ran to pick it, but ended up tripping on a stone.

Cole had, of course, ran to her aid. She sat on her knees, paralyzed with fear as she looked at something on the ground before her.

A deep violet monkshood bud.

Poor Via had been too terrified to move. Her hand was bleeding, and she claimed that had fallen on one of these deadly plants. Was she going to die? She asked him over and over again.

No, Cole had assured her. If she had actually fallen on a monkshood, her throat would have become swollen almost immediately. Since she was still breathing, she would be fine.

All the same, the poor girl had been too scared to move. Cole had picked her up, washed her wound in the creek, and picked a few dandelions for her. By the end of all that, she was finally convinced that she was not going to die, and she accepted the flowers with a small grin. Her hand had a painful, itchy rash that persisted for several days after that, but she had been otherwise unharmed.

Cole found that his feet were moving faster. The tempo was rising, the song picking up speed again as he tried to reach up and touch the top of that dark pit.

But he had been assisted when he dug that pit. The Overlord and Kozu had been beside him, shovels in hand, digging his grave with a wicked passion. He was going to need help getting back out again. He could not do it alone.

But was he ready to ask for help?

When he finished the song, he was still in that dark hole. But his desperation had returned, his passion filling him with a bright light that made his face glow like a solar fire, chasing away the darkness of insensitivity.

His eyes snapped open. He was in a cave. Grey light illuminated the stone. He was standing, bow and violin held in both hands as he stared at his audience, shocked. What had he just done?

He had opened the cage, that's what. His soul was testing its wings, fluffing its feathers to see if it could maybe take flight once again.

The door was open, but was he ready for the freedom?

Jay looked like someone had hit him with a thousand volts of electricity, with his slack jaw and bugged-out eyes.

Lloyd was smiling, but otherwise unmoved.

Zane looked about ready to burst with a hundred different emotions and responses. He, too, was smiling, but in a way that seemed much different than Lloyd. The nobleman's smile seemed more knowing than anything else. "You were smiling," he said finally. "Can you see yourself? You look so much different now."

Cole blinked. "I..." When had he stood up? He had no recollection of doing anything with his muscles. "I feel different. It's..." He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. He wanted to dance. He wanted to sit and stare at the wall and slowly sort this out. "...What did I just do?"

"You just made my nurse look like an amateur," Lloyd said. "That's what you did."

Jay cleared his throat, then reeled his expressions in. "You now have a hobby," he said.

Cole sat down, stunned. His eyes were moist. Hugging the instruments close, he sniffed. "I felt...alive," he said.

Zane set a hand on his shoulder. Cole flinched. "It's beautiful," he said. "Thank you for sharing a tiny sliver of your talent tonight."

Cole set the instrument aside and grunted. "Don't ask again," he said. "I'm too busy to waste my time with such a foolish thing."

But he knew. Oh, he knew that deep in his heart, he was grateful that Zane had found Via's favored toy. It had been so long since he'd played for an audience, and it felt good.

"What song was that?" Lloyd asked. "I've never heard of it before."

Cole shrugged. "It doesn't have a name," he said. "I just started playing, and...that's the tune that came out." Slowly, he returned Zane's smile, face flushing. "I'm not that good," he said. "Stop gaping like fools. Via was the good one."

Jay laughed softly. "Then the day that I hear Via's music is the day I hear angels sing," he said, "because I seriously thought that you were the good one."