Ashes to Ashes | ✓

11 || The Downfall of Kou

Felix had never failed so spectacularly. He had never been caught and thrown into a dungeon. There was one instance he could recall where he had been spotted after a kill and a pair of guards had rushed him, but nothing had come of it. Nothing more than an earful from his master.

He had some semblance of an idea of what a dungeon was like, but there was nothing quite the same as experiencing it firsthand.

The guard with the large scar across the bridge of his nose shoved Felix through the open door of the cell. His shoulder collided painfully with the rough stone flooring, and he winced as he righted himself. Scarface pulled the squeaky door shut; the click of the locks followed, sealing his fate.

Felix sighed. Master is probably rolling over in his grave right now. Cringing at the layer of dirt coating his palm, he pushed himself to his feet and made his way to the door of the cell.

Niveus Castle's dungeon was built like a maze. There weren't many cells, as most of the passageways were dark, damp, and empty. The jangling of keys echoed loudly through the stillness as Scarface rejoined the second guard who had brought him here—a tall man with broad shoulders and a rumbling voice. They spoke to each other in their own tongue, laughing at something. In the hands of Broad Shoulders, there was Felix's cloak—and every knife he had on his person. His heart sank a little.

Despite what Cinere had ordered, they searched him anyway. Unlike in Furvus, the guards of Niveus didn't stop at one boot knife.

No, he reminded himself, snapping back from the door. A frown twisted his face. Not Cinere. Aiko.

Anger melded with his frustration. How could he not see it? How could he miss what was right in front of him? His ears burned with embarrassment; he was grateful for the shadows hanging over the room if only to cover the redness in his face. Before he knew it, his fist crashed against the door. Pain laced through his knuckles and he pulled away with a hiss, cradling it against his chest.

Failure was painful; it was sharper than the throb in his knuckles. It choked him like water in his lungs.

And yet, some part of him was relieved. It was small, only a faint flicker stirring deep within him. If he was locked away here, he would never have to kill again, nor would he have to face Dinah and the unspoken consequences of his failure. In that sense, was it not freedom?

He took a look around him. Dirt-covered stone walls surrounded him on three sides. On the front side, metal bars stretched from the floor to the ceiling, crossed by another strip of steel for extra strength. It reminded him of a cage, sending a shiver down his spine. Despite his hatred of this, it played out in his favor. Through the bars, he had a perfect view of the long, dark hallway that stretched out ahead. At the end of the hall, only one of the two guards remained. Felix guessed it was Scarface who had been left behind, judging by the jingling of keys at his waist when he moved.

Felix stepped back until he hit the wall behind him. Sliding to the floor, he raked his fingers through his hair. He might as well resign himself to his fate—even if it was dingy, dirty, poorly lit, and smelled of mold.

With no window to the outside world, he had no way of knowing how much time had passed before the echo of footsteps came down the hall. A voice, soft and feminine, opened a brief conversation with Scarface in the Nivean tongue. At the sound of it, Felix's heart leapt to his throat. He shoved himself to his feet and raced to the bars at the front of the cell.

There, at the other end of the hall, stood Aiko. Dust clung to her clothes from the Core, and her long curls had become tangled and wild. She still only wore one cuff, reminding him that the other one was clamped around his wrist. Its weight seemed to pull him closer. His throat tightened, even as her name sat on the tip of his tongue.