The air in the prison cell grew heavier, thick with tension as the blindfolded boy’s words settled between them like dust. His tone had been light—almost amused—but there was a weight beneath it, something sharp and unreadable.

  Cale’s spine went rigid before he forced himself to rex, exhaling through his nose.

  He already knew this guy—tall, calm, and far too collected—was no ordinary prisoner. And even though they'd spoken before, facing him again made Cale’s stomach tighten with unease.

  Adin, still propped against the cold stone wall, pressed a hand to his side. His face, mottled with bruises, was pinched in wary focus. He watched the boy closely, as if trying to solve a riddle he didn’t know he’d been given.

  The boy tilted his head. Thin slits ran down both cheeks, faintly twitching—as if they reacted not to sound, but to tension in the air. His eyes were hidden behind a blindfold, frayed and greyed with age, but somehow Cale still felt the weight of his gaze—like invisible hands brushing against his skin.

  Then the boy smiled. It was small, barely a shift of muscle, but it made something crawl down Cale’s spine.

  “Rex,” the boy said, voice soft and disarming. “I’m not here to fight. Just wondering why you two are sitting in my corner.”

  He gestured vaguely with one hand, as if the cell’s damp stone belonged to him by right.

  “I mean, I get that you're new and all,” he went on, “but even in here, there’s such a thing as manners. You should really ask before you take someone’s spot, you know.”

  Cale blinked, thrown off by the statement.

  “But… didn’t you say I could sit here st time?” he asked slowly, his brows drawing together.

  He gnced at Adin before turning back.

  “I asked you when I got here. You said you didn’t mind.”

  “Me?” the boy echoed, resting his chin between his thumb and index finger. “Did I really? Hm. Doesn’t sound like something I’d say.”

  Cale stared at him, unease blooming in his chest.

  What’s going on? Is he messing with me? Or does he really not remember?

  “Hey, Cale,” Adin muttered low enough that only he could hear, “didn’t you say you met this guy already? Why’s he acting like it’s the first time?”

  “I don’t know,” Cale murmured back. “I remember meeting him. I’m sure of it.”

  Across from them, the boy cocked his head.

  “I’m still here, you know,” he said casually. “So, who are you guys, anyway?”

  Adin straightened, deciding to py along.

  “My name’s Adin, and this is my friend Cale. We’re new arrivals—just got tossed in here.”

  He extended a hand politely.

  “If you don’t mind me asking… what should we call you?”

  The boy blinked behind his blindfold.

  “Adin and Cale, huh…” He sounded out their names like they were strange fvours. Then he shook his head. “Nope. Never heard of you.”

  A pause. Then:

  “But You can just call me Youthful Guest.”

  “Youthful Guest?” Adin repeated, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yup,” the boy said pinly, stretching his arms. “Don’t mind you sitting here, just don’t disturb me.”

  With that, he turned and walked leisurely to the corner by the bars. He picked up a faded pair of blue prison robes from the floor, shook the dust from them, and rolled them into a makeshift pillow. With a fluid motion, he y down and rested his head, sighing as if the stones beneath him were a feather bed.

  Adin and Cale exchanged a long, silent look.

  “Didn’t you say his name was Thorn?” Adin whispered.

  “That’s what he told me,” Cale replied, eyes narrowed. “Back when I first got tossed in.”

  “Then why’s he calling himself something else?”

  “No idea,” Cale muttered. “Maybe he forgot. Or maybe he just wants us to think he did.”

  Adin's gaze then drifted back to the boy.“He’s awfully chatty for someone locked up in a pce like this... don’t you think?”

  “Gotta pass the time somehow,” Cale said, shrugging as he leaned back against the wall.

  A flicker of golden sparks danced in his palm, then with a soft pop, a round metal can appeared in his hand. He took a long sip, then held it out to Adin.

  “Want some?”

  Adin raised an eyebrow. He hesitated for a moment. “Do you have enough for ter?”

  “Yeah don't worry about it, the amount of water this thing can store is crazy.”

  Adin nodded slightly, took a sip, and passed it back. The can disappeared into another brief fre of sparks.

  Time dragged on. The cell grew colder, quieter. They spoke only occasionally—small talk, including pns that they—just to fill the silence pressing in on their minds.

  Eventually, sleep came for them both. Adin fought it longer, but bruises ached and his thoughts grew sluggish. In the end, he gave in, letting his head rest back against the wall. His eyes closed. His breath evened.

  Across the cell, Youthful Guest y motionless, a faint frown appearing on his lips.