The black spots dancing before Luka's eyes slowly began to dissolve, leaving behind a stinging residue that felt like needles pricking his retinas. Lane's voice—heavy and chilling—still echoed in the chambers of his mind like a lingering ghost. As his vision finally cleared, a cold wave of dread washed over him, turning his blood to ice.
The heavy iron door of the dungeon, which Luka had just seen opening to admit those horrific guards, was shut tight.
Luka's throat went bone-dry. There were no guards. There was no lingering scent of fresh torch smoke, nor the rhythmic thud of iron-soled boots. In the flickering, dim light of the ancient wall torches, the dungeon was enveloped in its usual, suffocating silence. The rusted surface of the door looked as if it hadn't been disturbed for centuries, mocking Luka's memory. He was still standing near the threshold, exactly where Lane had violently yanked him back. He felt as if he had just woken up from a soul-crushing nightmare, yet the horror he had witnessed was still raw, burning behind his eyelids.
Luka's legs felt like leaden weights, but driven by a desperate need for answers, he stumbled back toward the dark corner where Lane sat. He came to a halt directly in front of him, his gaze fixed intensely on Lane's eyes.
"Lane, what just happened here?" Luka asked, his voice low but steady with a demanding edge. "Tell me the truth. Don't you dare tell me I saw nothing... I saw it all with my own eyes, and so did you. I know you know something about them."
Lane slowly tilted his head upward. In the trembling light, that familiar, innocent smile was still etched onto his face—a mask of purity that remained eerily unshaken. But as Luka's words hung in the air, the mask began to fracture. Luka noticed a strange, glistening moisture pooling in Lane's eyes. They were brimming with so many unshed tears that it looked as if they would spill over at any second. Yet, despite the obvious agony reflected in his gaze, he forced his lips to stay curved in that haunting smile. It was a desperate attempt to cage a soul-deep trauma behind a facade of normalcy.
Suddenly, the silence was broken by the sound of small, hesitant footsteps. A little girl from among the prisoners was approaching them, clutching her tattered clothes, her eyes wide with confusion. She stopped near Luka and whispered, "What... what were you doing there? You were standing by that closed door for so long, as still as a stone statue. The door never even opened once."
Luka felt as if a heavy weight had been placed on his chest. The door never opened? The thought hammered against his brain.
Then, the girl turned toward Lane. "Lane Bhaiya..." she asked timidly, "Why were you pulling this brother's hand so hard? There was no one there. But you acted like you were saving him from some great danger. Why did you do that to him?"
From the shadows near the wall, an older boy with hollow cheeks spoke up, his voice dry and laced with suspicion. "I saw it too. You were just staring at the solid iron. Then suddenly, this boy," he gestured toward Lane, "lunged from his corner like a predator. He grabbed your arm so violently I thought the bone might snap, and then he clamped his palms over your eyes."
A heavy, uneasy tension settled over the room. The other children were looking at them as if they were part of some strange, disturbing game.
Then, Lane slowly stood up from the darkness. Despite the tears still shimmering in his eyes, his face bore that same sweet, angelic smile. He walked toward the little girl with a calm, graceful stride and gently placed his hand on her head, stroking her hair with a tenderness that seemed out of place in such a hellhole.
"Luka and I... we were both just playing. We were only having some fun, you don't need to worry at all," Lane's voice was as smooth as silk, projecting a sense of calm that felt almost magical.
He looked deep into the girl's eyes and continued, "Were you scared? Don't be afraid, we were just joking around with each other. I've been watching you, and you haven't slept yet. That isn't good. Go to sleep now... we just felt like playing a prank."
As Lane spoke, the suffocating atmosphere of the dungeon seemed to lift. The little girl, lulled by Lane's soothing words and gentle smile, relaxed and accepted the lie as truth.
But Luka, standing just a few feet away, felt a shiver run down his spine. He watched Lane effortlessly weave a veil of 'innocent fun' over a horrifying reality. Lane looked back at Luka, his forced smile still intact and his eyes still wet, leaving Luka alone with a terrifying reality that no one else in the room was allowed to see.