Skaarin led Lucrys down the steps. He watched as Lucrys stopped to pet a flower above them, then turned back to the door. He undid the multiple locks, singing each time he came to a new one, as though they were parallel to his mind, the keys twisting through streams of bolts as each piece of the music box cranked throughout the cluttered expanse. As the final lock clicked into place, he threw the keys into the air and clapped his hands. “Here we are, then,” he chimed.

     He led Lucrys into a thin hallway with cells spanning across one wall. Hand-sized slits in the wall above the doors made up the only windows to the distant world beyond. Light drifted in from the windows, trying to find its way through the overgrown grass that wanted to consume it. The shadows of the grass danced along the wall, as if playing an act for those behind the cell doors. “This is where you’ll keep for a while, friend,” Skaarin said. He led Lucrys down a hallway to the left, across from two cells.

     “Wrong room, Skaarin,” Nii’rah piped from her cell. He turned to see her smirking through the bars wryly. He couldn’t hold back.

     “Whatever would put those words in your mouth?”

     “Look at his frame. He looks starved beyond death. You think he’ll last in a dungeon?”

     “If he stays quieter than you, it won’t matter,” Grenivous chimed in from the cell beside hers. “Your screaming kept me up for hours.”

     Skaarin walked to Grenivous’s cell. “I think she sounded beautiful. It was more like music,” he said, dancing in front of the cell. “Shall we see if you can sing a better tune, my lovely Grenivous?” Skaarin’s calm, dark eyes bore into the man, causing him to shudder and sink into his cell. Skaarin laughed. “Keep quiet, you two! Don’t annoy poor Lucrys here with your banter, now.”

     Skaarin walked back to an absent-minded Lucrys. “Shall we continue on,” he purred, lightly pushing Lucrys toward a large door set into a wall farther down the hallway. Lucrys’ feet kept moving when Skaarin halted. “No, no,” Skaarin stopped him. “That won’t do. My office and the less important prisoners are down that way. This is your room.” He unlocked a large, metal door and struggled as he pulled it open. Light entered the small room to reveal a second door.

     “It’s for precautionary measures,” Skaarin said. “Can’t have you running amok, can we?”

     Lucrys came to as Skaarin shut the door behind them.

                                                                 ◊ ◊ ◊

     “This part always ticks me off,” Skaarin gritted his teeth.

     Lucrys felt cold. His heart was thumping slowly. He looked to where he’d heard Skaarin in the darkness.

     “And now I get to fumble around after I find the key to find the damn lock.”

     “Where are we,” Lucrys asked.

     “Finally come to and came about, huh?” Skaarin began punching the metal door. With a final curse he turned back to Lucrys. “You like to distance yourself, don’t you?”

     “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Lucrys chuckled nervously. His nails began to click, but he stopped when he noticed the motion.

     “You didn’t hear much during your trial, did you? If you were actually around to listen, you’d know that you’ve been sentenced to a cell and stuck with me. Where’s this lock at?”

     Lucrys heard Skaarin slam himself into the door; clicking his tongue as he searched for the lock.

     “Oh, Lucrys,” he yelled abruptly. “I’m Skaarin. Skaarin, Lucrys. Play nice, blah, whatever you will. The whole introductory thing and what have you.” The door squeaked open. “There we go.” He slapped Lucrys on the back. “Lucrys, welcome home. I’d tell you that there’s a hole in the middle, but you wouldn’t get the reference. We’re on the wrong planet for Poe, and no one ever seems to know about the Lords’ literature.”

     Skaarin’s words trailed off. Lucrys stepped forward. He stumbled around in the dark room for a moment. He kept close to the rounded wall. It was cold. He ran his hand along it as he walked. Stone, stone, stone, stone. Wood. He brushed the unfinished, splintered planks until he came to a knob. He tried the door, but it wouldn’t open. He followed the wall again. It led him into small crevices here and there, but he figured they were there to keep him confused about the size of the cell. He walked along faster, tripping when he hit a knee-high slab.

     “And that would be your bed,” Skaarin sang. “The other door I heard you shake is my other office. That’s,” he paused. “Well I guess it’s usually off limits, isn’t it?”

     “Why am I here?” Lucrys asked. “Did Alucin call for the citizens to be his next victims?”

     Skaarin shot Lucrys a quizzical look he couldn’t see in the darkness. “You don’t remember?” he asked. You were seen murdering some poor bastards out on the streets in Nuu’reil.”

     “We aren’t in Nuu’reil?”

     “We’re in the dungeons of Castle Tunuurel. It’s part of Nuu’reil. Are you going to skip over the fact that you’ve killed people? That’s a bit heartless, don’t you think?” Skaarin walked about the room, his footsteps echoing with each click of his toes. He tapped a few extra times, attempting to make the room seem even larger to Lucrys.

     Lucrys sat on the stone slab. “Fuck,” he stammered. “It wasn’t a dream.”

     Skaarin’s hand came to rest on Lucrys’ chin. “Do you remember it,” he asked. “Would you give a play on the act?”

     Lucrys brushed his hand away. “I had a dream with some carcasses floating around me.” He stuttered, “I sometimes have moments where I’m sent to another world and murdered by,” he paused to find a word. “By demons,” he finished. “It happens over and over. I thought it would happen again, so I started carrying a knife with me…” He looked down quickly and shuffled nervously.

     “It’s gone,” Skaarin reassured him. “So, you killed the four lucky souls because you thought they were a figment of your imagination? That’s quite a way to go, isn’t it? Murdered by a mad mutt that can’t tell up from right; what a way,” he whistled low.

     “God, I really killed them.” Lucrys reeled. “Those were people.” The bile was hot and foul. It spewed forth in an instant, mixing with the tears erupting from his eyes as he remembered the four corpses in his dream. “What the hell have I done?”

     “You’re quite sane when you’re sane, aren’t you,” Skaarin asked in disgust.

     “What have I done?” Lucrys repeated. He convulsed violently and grabbed his head. “Fuck, it hurts,” he screamed. He collapsed upon the ground, shaking.

                                                                 ◊ ◊ ◊

     “And there you go,” Skaarin sighed. “Off again. Fuck, Lucrys, I thought you’d hold a while more than that. There’s a blanket on your bed. King Latrus,” he growled the name before exhaling and composing himself. “Your young king is kind enough to let you keep well alive. He despises death. Although the stench of corpse pillars and wondrous flesh-eating created his fucking castle.”

     He watched Lucrys squirm and cry for a moment, before he heard laughter. He staggered backward. “Well that’s sickening,” he mused. Lucrys twisted about, laughing and screaming through gasps of pain. Skaarin studied him calmly as he lost his ability to think. Watched as Lucrys cackled and screeched and forgot about his realization.

     Skaarin nodded, annoyed. “I’ll be back later on. I don’t think Grenivous will appreciate the noise.” He waited dramatically for a moment for the noise to stop. “Lucrys?” He put his hand to his ear. “I’m not going to keep prying!” He kicked Lucrys until he lay bloody and unconscious.

     Skaarin laughed. “You couldn’t just shut up,” he screamed. “Really? You’re that fucking slaught? The damn grave robber knew something, after all!” He kicked Lucrys’ limp body a few more times. “Shit, I’m already letting myself go.” He snarled, stepping on Lucrys’ hand. He let out a long sigh and tilted his head back in the darkness.

     Skaarin chuckled hysterically and pulled out a needle. “I hate doing it this way,” he groaned. He wiped his eye and took a deep breath. Slowly, accurately, he slipped the needle into his iris. He shuddered as he injected the serum into his eye. He pulled the needle out and shook himself, disgusted. He shut his eyes for a moment, allowing the mixture to settle with his vision. When he opened his eyes he could see the dull colors of the cell clearly. He looked down to the boot that rested on Lucrys’ hand. “Well, might as well,” he chimed. He crushed his heel into Lucrys’ hand repeatedly, cracking and smashing the bones. “Crunch, crunch, and fucking waste,” he yelled. “Waste and wither like the rotted, rotten fuck you are.” He dropped to his knees and sent the syringe through Lucrys’ hand, breaking the shaft off before throwing the rest aside. He tapped his fingers on his kneecaps as he stood. “I’ll be back later,” he murmured. “I believe I’m keeping people up past their bedtime with our rowdy fun.”

     Skaarin locked the cell. “Happy, Grenivous,” he asked dryly as he passed the door. “Lucrys’ already asleep. He won’t keep you awake tonight.”