Chapter 14

  Nidus stared at me with those sharp, unfazed eyes, his words echoing in my head like a riddle meant to unsettle. “You don’t understand,” he had said, his tone neither condescending nor kind, but with a weight that suggested I wouldn’t like the answer if I pried deeper.

  But I wasn’t about to let it go.

  “What don’t I understand?”

  I shot back, my voice laced with disbelief. His entire existence felt like an anomaly, a puzzle that refused to fit into the jagged rules of this place. The experience at the cell block had made it clear that this realm was no haven for those who faltered. Weak ‘pawns’ weren’t given second chances—they were erased.

  Thinking back to the god awful screams, I was sure of it.

  And yet, here Nidus was, defying that very logic. Too old he says and yet still… alive.

  “Why would they let you live?”

  I pressed, narrowing my eyes. “Why would they allow anyone like you to remain, to keep living when everything about this place screams otherwise? You’re too old. You’ve given up. You’re a contradiction to everything this supposed realm stands for.”

  He didn’t flinch, didn’t even bristle at the accusation. Instead, his lips quirked upward in a faint, almost self-deprecating smile.

  “I don’t know,” he said simply, his voice as calm as ever.

  “I’ve asked myself that same question countless times, but I don’t have an answer. Maybe they see me and the others as mere weeds—unimportant, insignificant. Maybe I’m just below their notice, a speck in their world too large for me to comprehend.”

  His honesty caught me off guard, but it didn’t satisfy me. It didn’t explain anything.

  “Or maybe,” he continued, his gaze turning distant, “I play some hidden role in their grand design. Something I’m not even aware of. Something none of us are aware of.” He shrugged, his nonchalance infuriating.

  “But I don’t know, and I’ve stopped trying to figure it out. Being alive is enough for me.”

  The sheer resignation in his voice sent a ripple of contempt through me, though I hid it well. This man—this supposed survivor—had completely lost his ambition. He spoke like someone who had already decided he wasn’t worth the effort it would take to fight for freedom.

  Then came the words that only deepened my disdain.

  “Perhaps I’m not destined to leave this place,” he said, his tone almost wistful. “Perhaps others are. Those who are destined to succeed will, and the rest of us…” He gestured vaguely at himself.

  “…simply remain.”

  Destiny. I hated the way he said it, as if his fate had been carved in stone long before he ever set foot in this wretched realm. As if he had no say in his own survival.

  I bit back my frustration, keeping my voice steady. “That’s pathetic.”

  He met my gaze, unflinching, but there was no anger in his eyes. Just calm. Annoyingly calm.

  “Fine,” I said, leaning forward, my voice sharp.

  “Then answer me this. If you’re just a pawn like the rest of us, how are you able to do what the warden does? How can you command obedience with a single word? ‘Pawn.’” I spat the word, loathing the taste of it.

  Nidus tilted his head slightly, as though contemplating to tell me. Then, without a word, he raised a hand and tapped a single finger to his temple.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I snapped.

  “It’s in here,” he said vaguely, his voice low and deliberate.

  “My head?” I asked, my brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

  He didn’t elaborate. His expression remained resolute, his lips pressed into a thin line as if he had already said too much.

  “Explain,” I demanded, my voice rising. “What does my head have to do with anything? How does that give you the ability to control me?”

  But he just shook his head, his silence a wall I couldn’t break through. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said again, his tone softer this time but no less frustrating.

  “Stop saying that!” I barked, slamming my fist against the table. “If you don’t want to explain, fine, but don’t sit there and act like I’m too stupid to get it. Just tell me the truth!”

  He sighed, his shoulders sinking slightly. “It’s not about stupidity,” he said, his voice weary. “It’s about experience. Some things you can only understand after you’ve been through them, lived through enough. And you…” He looked me over, his gaze assessing.

  “You haven’t experienced nearly enough nor will you understand the reason why I can’t elaborate.”

  I opened my mouth to retort, but no words came. His answer wasn’t satisfying—it wasn’t even an answer at all. But the way he spoke, the weight behind his words, made me hesitate. For the first time, I wondered if there really was something I was missing, something he understood that I couldn’t grasp yet.

  I hated it. But I couldn’t deny it.

  “So what now?” The words slipped from my mouth, low and deliberate.

  My eyes were fixed on Nidus, trying to decipher the mystery sitting across from me. His expression didn’t shift, but the pause before his response stretched on longer than I expected, as though he was gathering his thoughts.

  For a moment, the silence was deafening, the weight of it pressing against my chest. I glanced at the girl, still unconscious, her breathing steady but shallow. The uncertainty of our situation tightened around my throat. Finally, Nidus spoke, his tone quieter than before, almost reflective.

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  “I’m not entirely sure,” he admitted, his words measured. “Why I helped the two of you, I mean.”

  I frowned, his admission catching me off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting upward as though searching the ceiling for answers. “I could’ve ignored you,” he continued, his voice calm but tinged with something I couldn’t quite place—regret, maybe?

  “I could’ve walked away, left you there to fend for yourselves. Truth be told, that’s what I should have done.”

  “Then why didn’t you?” I asked sharply, my suspicion flaring again.

  He looked at me then, his pale eyes locking with mine. “I don’t know,” he said simply. “Something told me to stop. Call it a gut feeling, instinct, or whatever you want. I don’t really understand it myself.”

  I stared at him, searching his face for any sign of deceit. There was none, just the same calm, detached demeanor he always wore.

  “I gained nothing by helping you,” he went on, his tone steady. “And I didn’t expect to. Healing you, bringing you here—it wasn’t some scheme. It just… felt like the right thing to do.”

  His words unsettled me. They didn’t align with the Nidus I thought I’d figured out—the cold, detached man who had long given up on hope. But, what kind of person acted out of kindness in a place like this, where survival was everything?

  “You healed us,” I said slowly, narrowing my eyes. “And you didn’t even know I had those… keys?”

  He nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “That was a surprise, I’ll admit. Finding those in your possession.”

  “Then why help us?” I pressed. “If you didn’t know about the keys, if you don’t even care about them anymore, then why go out of your way?”

  Nidus sighed, his gaze dropping to the table. “Perhaps it’s because…” He paused, his fingers tapping lightly against the wooden surface as if searching for the right words.

  “Perhaps it’s because I’ve been alone for so long. Longer than I care to remember. Maybe, somewhere deep down, I just couldn’t bear to see more people vanish, to see more lives snuffed out before they even had a chance. Maybe…” He hesitated again, his voice softening.

  “Maybe it was just a reminder of something I’ve been trying to forget—that I’m human too.”

  The admission left me cold. Something about the way he said it, the emptiness in his tone, made me realize just how deep his solitude must have run.

  “But what about the others?” I asked, my voice quieter now. “You always mention them, so how could you be alone?”

  Nidus let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “The others,” he repeated, his tone almost bitter. “They’re not like me. Most of them keep to themselves, hidden away in their corners of this realm, too paranoid or too broken to come out. And the ones who do interact…” He trailed off, his expression darkening.

  “Let’s just say they’re not the kind of company you’d want to keep.”

  A shiver ran down my spine at the implication, a cold, gnawing dread settling in my stomach. “Can you elaborate?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

  “They’ve… devolved,” he said, his words careful, as though he didn’t want to explain.

  “Whatever humanity they once had is long gone. This place does things to people the longer you remain here, things I can’t even begin to describe. You were lucky it was me who found you. If it had been someone else…”

  He didn’t finish the thought, but he didn’t need to. The weight of his words was enough. My mind raced with possibilities, each one more horrifying than the last. I glanced at the girl again, her fragile form a stark reminder of how vulnerable we both were.

  For the first time, I felt a flicker of gratitude toward Nidus, though I didn’t dare let it show. Instead, I fixed him with a hard stare, trying to push past the unease clawing at my chest.

  “So, what now?” I asked again, my voice steadier this time.

  Nidus leaned back, folding his arms as though the weight of the conversation had finally settled on him. “You can do whatever you want,” he said flatly, his tone neutral, yet carrying an undertone of weariness.

  “It’s your choice, after all. You could wander around this realm, see what it has to offer. Maybe uncover things even I haven’t found. There’s plenty of oddities here, enough to keep you busy for a while.”

  I stared at him, my lips pressed into a thin line. He spoke as if this world was some grand adventure, but the hollowness in his voice betrayed that sentiment. He continued, his gaze distant, as if replaying memories I couldn’t see.

  “You could even entertain the idea of exploring the furthest reaches of this place,” he said. “Go deeper than anyone has ever gone, try to find an escape route that doesn’t involve those keys.” He nodded toward my pockets, where the two red orbs sat, heavy with unspoken significance. “But…” He paused, a faint, almost bitter smirk crossing his face.

  “That would be a waste of time.”

  “Why?” I asked, though part of me already guessed the answer.

  “Because I’ve tried,” he said simply. His eyes darkened, and for a moment, I could see the exhaustion etched into his features.

  “Countless times. No matter how far you go, how determined you are, you’ll always end up back where you started. The borders of this realm don’t work the way the real world does. They’re not fixed. They… bend, twist. It’s like this entire place is a giant loop, a trap designed to keep you here.”

  I frowned, the revelation unsettling. “You’ve been to the edge?”

  “Many times,” Nidus said with a hollow chuckle.

  “And every time, I returned to the same damn spot, as if the realm itself was laughing at me. That’s when I knew—this place isn’t real. It’s a mockery of the real world, a prison meant to test us, or maybe just break us. And the only way out…” He trailed off, his eyes flickering towards me.

  “…well you already know.”

  But before I could fully process his meaning, he added something that caught me off guard.

  “Of course,” he said, leaning forward slightly, “you could also go looking for the others. But I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  “Why not?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

  He let out another dry laugh, the sound devoid of humor. “Because most of them aren’t worth finding. They’re silent beyond normality” His expression darkened. “And like I’ve said, some are too dangerous.”

  “If you’re lucky, you’ll find someone like me,” he continued, his tone faintly mocking. “But chances are, you’ll run into something far worse. And even if you survive them, there are still the kobolds and the guardians to worry about.”

  My ears perked up at the word. “Guardians?” I repeated, latching onto the unfamiliar term.

  Nidus raised an eyebrow, his expression briefly curious. “The rocky ones,” he said, as though the answer was obvious. “The ones you’ve probably seen already. The golems.”

  “They’re mostly harmless,” Nidus continued. “Docile, unless you provoke them.” His smirk returned, faint but amused.

  I recalled that moment vividly, the thunderous crack of lightning and the chaos that followed. “So they’re not just mindless constructs?”

  “Far from it,” Nidus said. “They’re the defenders of the keys, the guardians of this realm’s secrets. They don’t attack unless you give them a reason to, but their purpose is clear—to protect the keys at all costs. As for how they came to be…” He shrugged. “That, I don’t know. They’ve always been here, patrolling the domain, as if tethered to it.”

  A question formed in my mind, one I hesitated to ask but couldn’t ignore. “What happens if someone destroys one?”

  Nidus’s gaze sharpened, his expression shifting into something unreadable. For a moment, he looked at me, then down at my pockets, as if sizing me up. “You’re assuming it’s possible to destroy one,” he said finally, his voice low.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, my unease growing.

  “They’re not like us,” he said. “They’re not flesh and blood. They’re… something else. I’ve never seen one destroyed, and I doubt it can be done. But even if someone did manage it…” He trailed off, his lips curling into a faint, sardonic smile.

  “Another would just take its place. This realm is mysterious in many ways.”

  Nidusshifted slightly in his chairl, his gaze steady and his tone calm as he spoke. “So, I suggest you break those keys and get on outta here,” he said plainly, as if the solution were the simplest thing in the world.

  “Give one to the girl and be done with it. It’s not like you can leave this place while keeping one in your possession, can you? I highly doubt that. So, there’s no point in keeping the other.”

  His words lingered in the air like smoke, filling the silence between us. Then, with a faint smirk, he added, “Besides, I think the listening girl over there would kindly welcome the gesture. Isn’t that right?”

  His eyes flicked to her with an almost mocking amusement, and I instinctively turned toward her as well. At first, I thought he might’ve been joking—just throwing out a wild accusation for the sake of his own amusement.

  But then I saw her stir. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she straightened from her feigned slumber, pushing herself up into a sitting position with a complicated expression that danced between guilt and defiance.

  My chest tightened in surprise. I hadn’t expected her to actually be awake. I thought back to how my entire attention had been on Nidus the whole time, oblivious to anything else. Had she really been listening this entire time?

  The girl glanced at Nidus first, her jaw tight and her lips pressed into a thin line, then shifted her gaze to me. She avoided direct eye contact at first, her expression guarded, as though she wasn’t quite sure what to say or how to explain herself.

  I took the opportunity to study her closely.

  Her hair was a deep, inky black, streaked with uneven strands of lighter gray, as though it had been bleached by prolonged exposure to something unnatural. It hung in choppy layers, framing a heart-shaped face with pale skin that seemed almost translucent in the dim light. Her almond-shaped eyes were a startling shade of amber, glowing faintly with an eerie warmth that seemed to contrast with the coldness of this realm.

  A small scar ran along the edge of her left cheekbone, almost invisible unless you were looking closely. Her features were youthful, but there was a sharpness to her expression—an edge that hinted at futile survival.

  “How long have you been listening?” I asked, my tone harsh as I narrowed my eyes at her.

  The girl finally met my gaze but remained silent, her lips parting slightly as if to speak before quickly pressing shut again. She shifted uncomfortably, her eyes flicking between me and Nidus as though weighing her options.

  Before she could answer, Nidus chuckled, his tone light but tinged with amusement. “From the start,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as though he found the entire situation endlessly entertaining.

  The revelation made me bristle slightly. I glanced back at the girl, who looked away from Nidus, focusing her attention on me instead. Her silence hung in the air, heavy and unspoken, but her expression was enough to confirm the truth of Nidus’s words.

  “Anyways, that’s the most logical plan from my view,” Nidus continued, his voice drawing my attention back to him. He gestured vaguely with his hand, as if to dismiss any lingering doubts.

  “Break the keys. Leave this place. It’s not complicated. Besides, it’s not like I care where you got two keys from—it’s no longer my business.”

  His eyes gleamed with curiosity as he leaned forward slightly, studying me with an almost predatory intensity. “But,” he added, his tone softening into something more genuine, “I am curious to see what happens when you destroy one. I’d like to witness that for myself, with my own two eyes.”

  The faint smirk on his face returned, but this time, there was something different about it—something lighter. It wasn’t just amusement anymore; it was anticipation.