Ambrosius tore through The Institute hallway, sword in hand. The Director was ahead of him, running for her life. It didn’t take long for him to catch her, and soon he had her shoved against the stone wall, sword at her throat.

“You killed Ballister.” Ambrosius growled. “There’s only one punishment in the kingdom for murder!”

“Mercy! Please!” The Director cried out.

“No. I couldn’t give mercy to Ballister, so won’t give mercy to you.”

He drew the sword back and rammed it home. Blood spurted, staining The Director’s white dress. She coughed reflexively. Bright red spittle splattered across Ambrosius’s face. Then through the pain, The Director smiled a cold, snake-like smile.

“Who’s the monster now?”

Ambrosius jolted awake. A string of dim lights draped overhead illuminated the room. He was in the hideout. It was night.

“Nimona?”

No answer. Ambrosius pushed himself half-upright on the couch. His heart was still racing. He rubbed a hand across his face, checking for blood. It was clean.

Ambrosius exhaled loudly and fell back onto the musty cushions.

Memories of the dream haunted him. He knew it hadn’t been real, but The Director’s words echoed in his mind.

Who’s the monster now?

Suddenly, the word that had triggered Nimona felt heavy. So much baggage from centuries of fear and contempt that had turned to disgust and outright hatred… It was terrifying to hear it directed at him. He’d felt justified in his dream though! He’d been enacting judgment for the good of The Kingdom. It hadn’t been murder, it had been justice. Right?

Ambrosius sat up. He needed a walk. He didn’t care that there was probably a manhunt for him going on - after a week of being trapped in the windowless psych ward, he wanted to get outside. Besides, he was far enough from the city lights that no one else should be out. And if he was seen… well, it wasn’t like his life could get any worse at this point. He had no way of proving his reasoning in attacking The Director so many days ago, and on top of that, he had one of the most recognizable faces in the kingdom. As good as Nimona’s intentions had been in breaking him out, the only future he saw for himself was behind bars. It was only a matter of time.

His leg had stopped bleeding, so he found a large piece of wood he could use as a crutch, and headed outside. The night was crisp, with a strong breeze that whistled through the trees around him. Ambrosius could easily see the wall encircling the kingdom from here - it looked within easy walking distance. He headed for it, hobbling as he went. If there were any cameras on the wall, they’d be watching outside the perimeter, leaving him unnoticed.

Ambrosius’s mind lost focus as he went. Too many thoughts were swirling in his head. Thoughts about The Institute, The Director, Ballister…

Suddenly, Ambrosius felt the whole weight of his grief. He hadn't had a chance to process it with a clear head yet, and it hurt so much…

He could remember the oily scent of Ballister’s hair. The feel of his supple skin pressed against his own. The taste of his lips when they kissed. And his eyes… There were always wrinkles under his eyes when he'd smiled. Ambrosius wondered what his smile would have looked like in another twenty years… sixty years… however long the two of them had lived. He wondered what their house would have looked like. Would they have picked something new and freshly built, or old and waiting to be remade?

There would have been a kitchen where Ballister could show him the kinds of food his family had once made, now lost to time. Ambrosius had had a book of recipes from his mom’s side, too - food he’d wanted to show Ballister someday. A day that would never come. Ambrosius blinked tears from his eyes. So many hopes and dreams, disappeared into the ether. Nothing was left for him. Even the packet of Ballister’s ashes was gone.

Ambrosius was so lost in thought, he almost didn't notice when he'd reached the wall. He looked up at the towering structure in the moonlight, running a hand over its ancient stone base. He’d never been out here before. He walked alongside, following the slight curve until he heard an unearthly noise. It sounded like a howl, but longer. A monster? Inside the wall? Nimona had gotten inside the wall - what if another had too?

Ambrosius knew he should be scared of that possibility, but the mental numbness that followed his grief just left emptiness in its wake. He didn’t care that this was a public safety risk - it wasn’t like he was in any shape to do anything about it. Besides, Nimona hadn’t seemed dangerous… although if this one was and it killed him, maybe he’d be remembered as a martyr instead of a disappointment.

Another mysterious howl rang out. Dull curiosity overcame Ambrosius’s vague sense of self-preservation, and he followed the noise to a tangle of plants growing against the wall. He poked his crutch into the mess of green, half expecting something to leap out at him and tear off his face. At least then maybe he wouldn't be recognized if he went into the city.

Nothing happened. He prodded around the plants, his crutch scraping against stone… until it hit air where the wall should have been.

Surprised, Ambrosius pulled the plants away, exposing what originally must have been a drain under the wall, but had crumbled and eroded into a passage almost a meter in diameter. The howling was coming from inside.

Ballister would have long since said they should leave and report this. He had always acted with caution. But Ballister was gone. No one was around to stop Ambrosius’s impulses. He wanted to see a real monster. If it killed him, all the better. The world would move on without him, the same way it had done with Ballister.

The passage was dark. Ambrosius had to crouch down on all fours, dragging his bad leg behind him. The howling grew louder. Louder. And then… It stopped.

Ambrosius pushed forward, determined to find the source of the noise. There was light ahead. Moonlight. He emerged from the passage into a field of tall grass. He looked up. Behind him, stone and concrete towered into the sky. He was outside the wall.

He should have been terrified. This was actual monster territory. Anything could be out here. But instead, he stood there, leaning against the wall, waiting for something to come and snatch him up. He waited for a while. Then a breeze struck him and the howling began again from inside the passage. It had been the wind howling the entire time.

Ambrosius slumped back against the wall, disappointed. Where were the monsters? For that matter, where was the wasteland of death he'd been told about? All he could see were grassy hills with mountains in the distance. No signs of hulking, ravenous beasts that stalked the land night and day. No rotting carcasses of unfortunate creatures strewn about like so much refuse. Nothing. The place looked like it had never been touched by anything larger than a rabbit.

Ambrosius clenched his fists. The monsters had to be out there somewhere.

“I'm here! Come and get me!” he shouted, his voice echoing off the wall.

He waited.

Nothing happened.

Nothing at all.

There was nothing out here.

Ambrosius felt his arms go slack as he slid down the wall to a sit. Had there ever been monsters prowling out here? Or had everyone been wrong? Had they always been wrong? How had this never come to light? Had The Institute been hiding this? Had they been lying to everyone for centuries just to keep the populace fearful enough to obey any order?

Ambrosius looked up at the wall behind him.

How much of his life had been built on lies?