Chapter 4: Falling to Earth
Ark Skybox: Warden's Office
It was a quiet day, the kind that felt almost peaceful, in a place that never truly knew peace. Alexander had been informed that the Warden wanted to meet with him personally, to settle his affairs. The guards made it sound almost ceremonial, like some twisted honor—though Alexander had long since stopped caring about the trivialities of the Ark's chain of command.
The guards led him into the Warden's office. It was far more luxurious than any space in the prison. The air smelled of leather and old wood. A vast bookshelf lined one wall, filled with books that seemed out of place in such a sterile environment. Drawers and cabinets were scattered about, filled with documents that didn't concern prisoners. Even the paper on the desk felt different—thicker, finer, as though wealth was etched into the very fibers.
"Come in, Alexander. Sit down." The Warden's voice broke through the silence, signaling the guards to bring Alexander inside.
He walked in, doing his best to ignore the sense of unease creeping up his spine. He didn't care for this room, or the man behind the desk. He could already guess what was coming. But he sat down anyway, his hands resting on his knees, trying to maintain some semblance of calm in front of this man who thought himself untouchable.
"Nice to meet you, sir," Alexander said with a carefully neutral tone, but the look in his eyes betrayed how little he cared. He had already accepted his fate—nothing that came after was anything but formality.
The Warden raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by Alexander's casual demeanor. "Now, son, be careful with that tone. I'm not one of those guards you can talk to so casually. Speak when spoken to, or keep it shut." His voice was cold, a thinly veiled threat. He exerted his authority, leaning back in his chair, as if the power he held over Alexander was something to be proud of.
Alexander's eyes narrowed, but he didn't react outwardly. His mind was elsewhere—on Harper and Murphy, on the fact that today was the day he'd been expecting. He would not play into the Warden's games.
"Understood, sir," he said flatly, biting back the disgust he felt. His eyes briefly flickered around the room, noting the expensive details, and he thought, Power truly corrupts.
The Warden seemed satisfied for the moment. "Good. Now, tell me, Alexander, what is your last wish? Something I can grant you before... well, you know."
The guard next to him seemed to hesitate, emphasizing the words in a manner that suggested superstition. Nobody said "floated" aloud. It was said that anyone who uttered the word would find themselves meeting a gruesome fate. Most simply avoided saying it directly. They called it "flowing into the void" or "being sent away." As if words themselves could make it real.
Alexander's heart rate quickened at the mention of his impending death, but he forced himself to remain calm. He had no desires, no hopes. His life was already forfeit, and anything else was just... a distraction.
"Unless you're offering me a pardon, there's nothing I want," Alexander said, his voice devoid of emotion, his eyes locked onto the Warden's as if daring him to do his worst.
The Warden studied him for a long moment, intrigued by the audacity in Alexander's eyes. "Interesting. You know, you're the first prisoner who's ever dared to look me in the eyes. You've got balls, kid. I'll give you that."
He leaned forward, lowering his voice to a whisper, almost conspiratorial. "Let me ask you something. If I were to offer you more life, how much would you be willing to sacrifice? What would you do for the chance to live?"
Alexander's eyes widened, his pulse quickening. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to hope—Could this be real? His heart raced, and he leaned in slightly, trying not to let the Warden see his eagerness. But there was something unsettling in the way the Warden's words hung in the air. What would the price be? And was he willing to pay it?
"I'd do anything," Alexander answered, his voice tight with a mixture of desperation and determination. "Just give me more time. More life. I'll do whatever you ask. But..." He paused, glancing away as if weighing the consequences. "I want something in return. I want you to protect my friends—Murphy and Harper. And if you can, get rid of their sentences. They don't deserve this."
His words hung in the air, the sincerity in his tone unmistakable. He was ready to sell his soul if it meant keeping his friends safe. His eyes flickered with barely contained anger and desperation, but also something else—ferocity. The Warden's next words would change everything.
The Warden studied him carefully, his face unreadable. Then he leaned back in his chair, taking a slow breath, as if considering the proposition. "I can arrange that," he said, his voice cool. "But there's something else I need. A task for you, if you want my help. Something big."
Alexander's heart stuttered in his chest. This was it—the moment when everything would either fall apart or come together.
"I need you to kill Chancellor Jaha," the Warden said, his voice low and almost intimate, as if Alexander were being asked to do something as simple as turning in a report. "Do this for me, and your life will be spared. I'll make sure your friends are safe, and I'll give you more time. You'll have your life back."
Alexander's world seemed to shift beneath him. The request was outrageous, unimaginable, but... it made sense in a twisted way. If I do this, I might actually live. He clenched his fists, his mind racing. But there was something more disturbing about the Warden's request—what would it cost him, really? The Warden wasn't asking for a simple favor. He was asking for a betrayal of the highest order.
Back in the Skybox
Harper ran through the halls, her footsteps echoing, frantic. "Murphy, wait up!" she called, but Murphy was already at the door, his face pale.
He opened the door to Alexander's room, only to find it empty—no trace of his presence, no sign that he'd ever been there.
"What the hell happened here?" Murphy shouted, his voice breaking with disbelief as he scanned the room. Alexander's belongings were gone, swept clean from the room. It was as if someone had erased him entirely, leaving nothing behind.
"Murphy, what's wrong?" Harper asked, entering the room, her brow furrowed. She looked around, her heart sinking. She had known Alexander long enough to understand that his room would never look like this—empty, devoid of his presence. It was like the world had swallowed him whole.
"They took him, Harper. We lost him." Murphy's voice cracked as he punched the wall in frustration. His hand bled, but he didn't seem to notice. He sank to the ground, his anger and confusion giving way to a painful emptiness.
"No, not Alexander. He can't be..." Harper's voice faltered, but she didn't finish the sentence. Deep down, she knew Murphy was right. Anyone who left the Skybox like this never came back. The room itself was a cruel reminder of that fact.
"Harper, calm down," Murphy said softly, trying to hold her back as she fought to rush out of the room. "I can't lose you too." His voice was laced with pain, and Harper could hear it clearly. He wasn't just worried about Alexander—he was worried about her.
Harper stopped struggling, feeling a strange numbness wash over her. She looked around, desperately searching for any sign that Alexander had left something behind, some clue that he wasn't truly gone.
Her gaze fell on the desk next to the lamp, where a letter was placed. She walked over slowly, her hands trembling as she picked it up. It was addressed to Murphy. Her heart sank.
Murphy, too, had noticed it. With a surge of desperate energy, he snatched the letter from her hands and tore it open, reading the words quickly, his eyes scanning the page with an intensity that bordered on frantic. It only took him a few moments to finish.
Then, all the fight drained from him. He crumpled into himself, his shoulders shaking as tears began to fall. The strong, hardened prisoner everyone had known was gone, replaced by someone broken, someone who had lost everything.
"Murphy..." Harper whispered, but he didn't respond. Instead, he curled in on himself, his sobs echoing through the empty room. His world had shattered, and he could no longer find a way to pick up the pieces.
Harper slowly took the letter from him, her hands still shaking. She read the words, each sentence a gut punch. Alexander's goodbye, his final words, were a death sentence for her heart. He had pushed her away. He had told her everything he wished he could have said, but in the worst way possible.
Her breath caught in her throat as the weight of his words hit her. I regret not telling you I loved you...
"Alexander!" Harper screamed, her voice breaking as she collapsed to the floor. The pain was too much, too sharp, and for a moment, she couldn't even tell if she was still breathing. Her whole body felt numb, her mind unable to process the reality of what had just happened.
Murphy and Harper barely noticed when the guards called for "lights out." Their world had collapsed, and there was nothing left to hold on to. They were trapped in the memories of happier days, when they were together, laughing, surviving together.
But now, they had nothing left.
To be continued...