Of Immortals and Men | COMPLETE

Chapter 19 Redemption of the Emancipated

Chapter 19

Redemption of the Emancipated

“Freedom is what you do with what's been done to you.”

~ Jean-Paul Sartre ~

  

          The pitch black air around him appeared to thin as small rays of lights threatened to purge it through the creaks of the stone walls. He was used to the lack of illumination, and the concrete feel of the floor became second nature to him. It was not even bothersome like it had been the first few years.

          “Hey, you do hear that right? There’s a big commotion out there.” The sound of his old friend’s voice broke the silence he longed for. It was never quiet with him around.

          “I’m not deaf you know.” He paused, thinking about his next conclusion. “I can feel Ezekias’s mana; this seems to be his doing.” He said factually.

          The other person scoffed, and although it was darker than night itself, he could clearly see the glow of his bright violet pupils. After being incarcerated for so many years, the inhuman eyesight he possessed had gotten used to the lack of light. Nevertheless, there was no telling how that would affect him once he was freed—assuming that was Ezekias’s intent.

          “You don’t say? I thought it was just a regular human trying to open up this old place for kicks.” The satiric tone mocked him, as if doubting his intelligence. It was something he was very well accustomed in hearing, but it never ceased to annoy him.

          “I’m sorry, I forget that speaking with you is a waste of my breath. Even one of those corpses would lead a more intriguing conversation.” He was angered now but that just made the other person more amused.

          The laugh in his tone was blatant. “Ah, if only air could kill us; you would have been the first to go, given since you consumed your portion years back.”

          He scowled in further discomfort. “I think the lack of blood desiccated your brain, if I run out of air then you do to, smartass.”

          “A vampire of my caliber and age would never be claimed by something as pathetic as lack of air.” The vampire defended indignantly.

        “Of course, neither I would die by something as meaningless as that, but you spoke in a hypothetical manner. I am just making it clear how stupid you are by saying that my tantrums would have consumed my air and gotten me killed in the beginning.” He pressed further.

          The vampire still remained firm on his assumptions. “They would have. I made you crazy the first five years.” Once again, he could see the grin on his old thin and dry lips.

          Rolling his eyes, his frustration grew. “Hey, dumbass—”

          “Name calling will not get you anywhere.” But he ignored the comment and continued as if he had not been interrupted.

         “There’s no possible way for me to consume my air alone without consuming yours as well. It’s not like we each have our own portions.”

          The dried up vampire seemed to process this; he was quiet for a few seconds as his old eyes stared back at his prison mate. “What are you saying, Locke? There’s no way a royal such as myself would breathe the same air as you.”