A week had passed since Zen arrived in the Iron Maw. A week of quiet torment and strange clarity.
The days in the prison blurred together lined with pain, silence, and the ever-present pull of the spirit tubes. But despite everything, he'd noticed one thing:
He hadn't dreamed. Not even once.
No nightmares. No whispers. No haunting echoes clawing at the back of his mind. His head didn't feel like it was being split open by some unseen force.
Instead, a terrifying silence filled his sleep—deep, dark, uninterrupted. And ironically, it was the only peace he'd known in years. Found not in freedom, but in a dungeon that devoured souls.
"Am I dead? Or is this a trial?" he wondered. "There's no clue. But given the place and the circumstances... there's a seventy percent chance this is a Tower trial."
What was the objective, though? What was he supposed to do to pass?
He had no idea.
He'd been here for a week and hadn't found a single solid lead. The only thing that made sense was… a prison break. He was in prison, after all. Maybe escaping was the goal. It was the only logical thread he could follow, though he wasn't entirely sure about that either.
And then there were his cellmates. Strange, contradictory beings.
He was still thinking about that contradiction as he stepped back into the gloom of his cell. The others filtered in behind him, silent, each shrouded in their own cloud of exhaustion. But Zen had started to notice things.
They were… different.
Outside the cell—in the feeding lines, on the path to the tubes, under the eyes of the horned guards—they looked like everyone else. Hollow. Mechanized. Dead in all the ways that mattered.
But inside?
Inside the cell, they came alive.
Caeser would complain and toss insults like a man who still believed words mattered. Sometimes, Zen caught him practicing with a sword. He didn't know how Caeser got a weapon in here, but the guards didn't seem to notice… or maybe they didn't care.
Emith, big and quiet, would hum low earthy tunes while stacking smooth stones into tiny towers. Izora danced sometimes—flames flickering around her fingertips like she wasn't afraid of being seen. And Elli, always gentle, always watching, smiled as if she still remembered what warmth felt like.
When he first arrived, everyone except Elli had been a little cautious around him. They hadn't shown it outright, but Zen had felt it. The subtle glances. The quiet distance.
It faded over time. Except for Caeser. He still watched Zen carefully. Still wary. Maybe it was because Zen was new. Or maybe it was something else.
Izora and Emith were the most active. Emith had a shy, grounded nature, while Izora… she was fierce. Fearless. But she cared in her own way. They often tried to joke with Zen, even though he rarely responded. They invited him to sit with them, to join in those small, human moments—like they believed he could still laugh, too.
He noticed.
Even when he tried to remain distant, he felt it—the pull of their strange warmth. Their quiet, unspoken bond. It tugged at him.
Their laughter. Their arguments. Their presence.
It cut through the cold.
Zen had caught himself watching them when he thought no one noticed.
It wasn't normal.
Not in this place.
They still laughed. They still felt. They still lived.
They had something the others had lost.
Hope.
It confused him. And comforted him. Both.
What made them different?
What were they hiding?
And more importantly—how were they holding on to something so fragile, in a place so cruel?
Zen didn't have the answers.
But in that flicker of life behind the cell bars… he saw the first spark of something that might matter.
He didn't know what it was.
But he couldn't look away.
And that troubled him.
Because whatever this feeling was—he didn't understand it.
Zen stood in the corner of the cell, arms crossed, eyes distant—lost in thoughts he couldn't quite untangle—when a spark of sound cut through the quiet.
"What are you thinking about so seriously, quiet guy?"
Izora's voice, light and teasing, broke through the fog in his head. "Come on, tell this big sister."
She approached with her usual bounce, the flicker of lazy flames curling around her wrists like playful serpents. Izora never sat still—never let the cold take root in her. She talked too much, moved too much, burned too brightly for a place like this. But maybe that was why Zen had started to find her hard to ignore.
He shook his head faintly. "It's nothing."
"Pfft. Terrible liar," she grinned, plopping down beside him with casual ease. "You've got that weird face on again—like you're solving a curse backwards."
He didn't respond.
"Come on," she pressed, nudging his arm with her shoulder. "Big Sis Izora's all ears."
She always pushed. Not cruelly. Not forcefully. But insistently—like someone who refused to let another soul disappear quietly into the dark. Zen had seen it. Every time Caeser got too aggressive with Emith, it was Izora who jumped in first, her fire flaring brighter, her voice rising above the chaos. She and Caeser fought often, but there was something unspoken beneath it—something fierce and protective.
"Let it go, big sis," Emith said from his corner, his voice, shy as always. He was stacking stones again, palms careful. "I don't think he likes talking. He's just a kid, after all."
Zen blinked.
Emith glanced up, thoughtful. "I've seen soul devourers before. Big ones. Massive. Look at him—he's so small. Kinda… cute, honestly."
Izora burst out laughing. "Ha! See? Emith agrees. He's cute!"
Zen looked away, unsure how to respond to any of that.
Across the cell, Caeser groaned so loudly it could've rattled the bars. He pushed off the wall, arms crossed, scowl deepening like thunderclouds.
"Cute? You two are out of your minds." His voice was sharp. "Do you even know what a soul devourer is? They're not just scary stories—they're the real Monsters. Their hunger knows no bound. They consume everything. Souls. Memories. Everything."
He jabbed a thumb at Zen. "And you're calling that cute? We don't know what he is. What if he's faking it? That's how beasts work—they look weak, harmless. Then the moment you drop your guard—bam, your soul's already halfway gone."
Silence followed. Even Emith paused, a stone still in hand.
Izora's flames hissed, flickering higher for just a heartbeat. Her smile didn't vanish, but something colder gleamed beneath it.
"You done?" she asked flatly.
Caeser narrowed his eyes but didn't answer.
She turned back to Zen with a shrug. "Don't mind him. He's just an angry mutt."
Caeser bristled. "What did you call me?"
"Mutt. A smelly one."
And just like that, the argument ignited.
They squared off fast—Izora crackling with fire, Caeser with sword. Fire and sword clashed. Sparks flew.
Across the cell, Elli sighed.
She'd been watching. Always watching.
The way they all slowly circled around Zen—Izora leaning in, Emith chiming softly, Caeser showing his doubts. They were orbiting him now, drawn in without even realizing it. Like moths to a strange, silent flame.
And now, they were fighting.
Again.
She pushed herself to her feet and drifted toward them, her presence soft but commanding, like a ripple cutting through still water.
"Hey," she said quietly, stepping between the two just before sparks turned into fire. "Stop it. You're scaring him."
Izora blinked. "Tch. Fine. This Big Sis is backing off."
She held up her hands in mock surrender, flames flickering out with a puff.
Caeser huffed. "Weakling," he muttered under his breath.
And then… he froze.
Because he felt it.
A gaze. Cold. Cutting. Like a blade pressing against the back of his neck.
He turned slightly—and met Elli's eyes.
Still soft. Still gentle. But there was something behind them.
Caeser looked away fast.
He mumbled something, backed off like a scolded dog, and slunk into his corner, muttering curses only he could hear.
The room quieted again.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
Zen nodded. Just once.
Elli stepped closer.
She raised her hand and gently pressed two fingers to his forehead. Zen didn't flinch—he knew this by now. It had become part of their routine.
Every day after the tubes drained him near-empty, she shared a sliver of her spirit energy. Just enough to stabilize him. Just enough to stop the trembling. He never asked and he never resisted.
Warmth flowed from her into him, calm and steady.
When his breathing slowed and his shoulders eased, she pulled her hand back.
"Feeling better?" she asked.
"…Yes," he murmured.
Elli felt the sincerity in it, even though he didn't say much else.
She gave a soft smile and reached into her robe. From a hidden fold, she pulled out a small, glowing fruit—soft orange skin, veins of emberlight pulsing through it.
An embervine fruit.
Zen's eyes widened.
He stared at the fruit, then looked up at Elli. His lips parted, like he wanted to ask something—but the words never came.
She didn't say anything either.
She peeled fruit slowly, letting the sweet scent drift between them.
"I don't know what happened to you," she said softly, her voice steady, "what made you so cautious. But… it's not a bad thing. It let you survive in this cursed world."
She paused, offering him a piece of the fruit.
"But that doesn't mean you have to shut everyone out. No one can survive in the world alone. We all need someone to rely on."
Zen didn't speak. But he didn't look away, either.
"But if you never give anyone a chance," Elli continued, "how will you ever know who's worth trusting? I know it's hard. Especially in a place like this. But… we're all stuck here. That means we're in this together. Even if we're a mess. So give us a chance."
Then she broke off a piece and held it out to him.
Zen hesitated for a moment… then took it—and ate it.
Elli smiled softly. "Tell us about you when you're ready."
Across the cell, the others were definitely eavesdropping.
Izora let out a small, triumphant laugh and nudged Emith with her elbow.
Emith gave a quiet nod of approval, a rare smile flickering across his face.
Caeser had a expressionless face.
Even in silence, the cell felt a little warmer.