The Stars Give No Hope

Five

   Kai cringed when he looked at a discarded limb in the room as he entered it. But he didn't see the familiar android. And his stomach dropped. He was getting used to physical pain, but emotional was very different.

   He sharply looked away, not wanting to believe that she was gone. She may have been dead, but now it would be for sure.

   He was getting sick of his own thoughts. Words that whispered, images that flashed, screams that echoed.

   His thoughts never gave him a break.

   But now, he was grateful, because His Sweet was going to provide with a distraction. A painful one, but it was much better than his own thoughts. They approached the licking flames that have been replaced by the illusionary ones, probably prepared by a servant. He loved the smell of the fire, announcing its presence.

   The only thing that he hated about those flames, was how they increased both of the Royals' similarities. But it had to do. He didn't want his mind wandering to Cinder anymore. His Sweet was the one who made him happy.

   Or was he?
...

   Thorne was the personification of silence right now, while his mind was absolute chaos, drifting him down a pit of pain and so much guilt.

   He didn't know how much time had passed, but he had kept quiet through a lot of it. Unsurprisingly, Jacin was quiet too. It calmed Thorne a bit, for it was better than the alternative. He had gone through it already this same night. Or was it morning? Maybe the next day? Thorne bit his fingers. It was better not to think how much time they spent here.

   He lifted his head, and looked over to Jacin, who looked outside of the bars while slumping at the far wall to his left. Looked, but not seeing. Thorne decided this was enough silence, for it was slowly deafening him.

   "Hey... Jacin?" His voice was barely above a whisper as he asked for the other's attention, and the former guard's head snapped to him, eyes no longer glazed over, but still emotionless. Dead's the word, he thought.

   He continued once he gained attention. "Y-You think Cinder... survived it?"

Jacin knew what he was talking about, Thorne knew. It was the first time they actually mentioned this subject. Both were too worried, and it was felt. Maybe it was better knowing that she was dead than not. Jacin had that luxury, he knew about Winter, even if it sounded harsh. Jacin's eyes were suddenly infiltrated by an emotion he couldn't recognize, but it was one nonetheless. That was another relief. Jacin was still strong.

"... Maybe. How... much blood did she lose?"

   Thorne sighed. "A lot."

   Jacin wasn't satisfied with that answer. He reluctantly kept talking, reliving what he saw hundreds of times in the hell that was his dreams.

   "I couldn't check if... she was very pale or somethin'. I just saw that she was stabbed in the heart, and couldn't fight back... I think I would've guess easier if I did see her up close, but I couldn't."

   Stars above, he didn't know how long ago he had spoken for that long, but he had. He remembered with mirth the time when he talked like there was no tomorrow, needing to tell every single joke that came to mind.

   Jacin answered. "Then we'll need to... hope?" He said those words as if that was a foreign word. Maybe it was for them. "You w-would think," he chuckled, no real emotion behind it- yet again with the death inside that guy- and continued his statement, "that she would be the vengeful one."

   Thorne understood. He was right. That woman had wanted nothing but revenge ever since that revolution started and everyone knew it. The bane of that imposter's existence couldn't be promptly killed or left behind to die with the ruptured heart. She was torturing every single one of her friends and followers, why wouldn't she torture the one that started all of this?

   And why was he just a bit more relieved at that discovery? Did he want her to get hurt? No. No, he just thought that... maybe she could actually fix all this. But that was close to impossible, wasn't it?

   Yep, hope is definitely foreign to them now.
...

   Cress looked back to the wonderful and almost scary adventures she had when she had escaped her prison. Which was that satellite.

   One of the most beautiful things, among the trees and the sands and the blue sky, was the stars. She thought she'd grown tired of them after watching them for seven years, but seeing them on Earth, below them on a traumatizing, hot landscape, was more than just beauty to her eyes.

   Now, she would never see those gems in the sky again. Or, for at least a long time. She had to think of a plan to get out of here, and bring her friends along with her. Or even, dare she think it, kill that insane queen and maybe finish what they started, putting Cinder as Queen and be guided by Kai. She hoped the latter would be mentally functional for that, for the last time she saw him, he very much worse for wear; and she hoped the former was alive. That crazy queen could do anything. If she was that angry at Cinder for recording and publishing her true gruesome image, then maybe it made sense that Levana had killed her.

   Her heart cried out for their dire situation, for her friends, for... for Thorne, and she had to take a shaky breath to calm herself. She couldn't.

   That frustrated her. She was being weak again, overcome with grief and fear instead of just thinking about what to do so that the misery would be cut short. She had been to weak and vulnerable for too long.

   She tried to take another deep breath, satisfied that her anger at herself led away the fear. And she thought. Different plans, different outcomes. Different situations. She had to have a plan, something for backup if the friend she counted on was in no condition to help or to breath at all

   She tried to think of how she would get out of the cell in the first place. She would need a distraction, but also to have her cell door open. Maybe someone was here? Maybe someone would want to help?

   She focused on keeping her fear out of her voice as she tried to use it after some time, the only exceptions being her screams and whimpers in the Punishment Hours.

   "He-" She cut herself off, sensing a tremble and a squeak in her first try at forming a coherent word. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Hello?" She yelled, still sensing her voice hoarse, but satisfied.

   She waited one, three, eight seconds before she heard a grunt and noise that sounded like someone dragging themselves. Nothing else. She tried again. "Is someone there? I-If you are, p-please answer!" She was practically begging at this point.

   Another rustle. She saw movement then, in a cell diagonal to hers, on the right. Hands gripped the bars in the cell. A disbelieving voice answered her.

   "M-Miss Cress?"

   Recognition hit her, and she thought who it could've been that answered her.

   "I-I'm sorry," she stuttered. "But, who are you?"

   "... I am His Majesty's former advisor." There was still hesitation and shock in his voice. But his words made her gasp.

   Konn Torin.