The white light was still there, steady and unblinking.
Kael sat on the floor, his back against the wall, legs pulled close to his chest.
He hadn't slept. Not after that dream.
"What the hell am I doing...?" he whispered.
He covered his face with his hands.
His breathing was fast, as if the air wasn't enough.
"Sara is still locked up. I'm... still here. And they're still winning."
He struck the floor with his fist.
Not in anger—out of helplessness.
"She trusted me. And I... I gave myself up like trash. Like I had nothing left to fight for."
He stood up suddenly, pacing back and forth like a trapped animal.
"The book spoke to me. It wasn't just a dream. I know it.
'Are you going to give up so easily?' it said.
And I... I didn't even know what to answer."
He stopped in front of the door, staring at it like he could burn through it with his thoughts.
"This isn't who I am. It's not who I'm supposed to be. Not after everything that's happened.
Not after Ismael. Not after the governor.
Not after Sara."
His voice broke when he said her name.
"She shouldn't be locked up. Not because of me.
Not because of this damn power.
Not because of this damn book!"
He shut his eyes. Sara's face appeared, clear as day. Tired, but strong.
The way she had looked at him during the video call...
There was no hate. No fear. Just trust.
"I can't just sit here waiting for things to change...
I have to do something.
I have to get out of here. For me. For her. For the voiceless."
He clenched his jaw.
"If no one else will do it... then I will."
⋆⭒✧༺༻✧⭒⋆
Kael walked to the back wall.
No windows, no slits, not even visible screws. Everything was solid, seamless—designed to contain something worse than a human being.
"Not even a bomb can damage it, they said..." he muttered. "But even perfect prisons rely on the people running them."
He turned around, eyes on the camera in the corner.
It rotated twice every minute. He'd counted.
"A system doesn't fail because of its design. It fails because of people."
He recalled their faces. Different guards every day.
But one showed up more often than the rest.
A young man. Tense. Not very talkative.
He looked at Kael with a strange mix of fear and curiosity.
"He's the weak link..." Kael murmured.
He sat down again. He couldn't rush this.
He had no weapons. No allies.
All he had was his mind, his body... and just enough time to decide when to strike.
"If I face them head-on, they'll crush me. But if I make them drop their guard... if they think I'm still broken..."
"I need to give them what they want. Just a bit more.
Make them think I'm still obeying. That they've got me under control."
He clenched his fist.
"And when they relax... I strike."
He knew he couldn't escape alone.
He had to find Sara.
He had to get her out too.
"One shot. That's all I need," he said.
He closed his eyes, visualizing the path. The routine. The guard shifts.
Every detail, every step, every mistake his captors made could be his edge.
The way out wasn't breaking the walls.
It was breaking the routine.
⋆⭒✧༺༻✧⭒⋆
The food came at the usual time.
A metal tray shoved through a narrow slit, barely a few centimeters wide.
Kael looked at it, but didn't move.
Instead, he remained in the opposite corner, head down, hands in his pockets.
They were watching through the camera. He knew.
And he... was acting.
"Not hungry, huh?" he muttered, like talking to another Kael—one still caged on the inside.
Ten minutes passed. No voices. No footsteps.
He slowly got up, as if still exhausted.
Picked up the tray, sat back down... and began eating.
Slow. Robotic. Like someone already defeated.
But every so often, his gaze slid toward the camera.
They were noting it down. Recording. Becoming convinced.
That's what he wanted.
When he finished eating, he placed the tray back in its spot. Lay down. Closed his eyes.
He counted the seconds.
One... two... three...
Eighteen minutes later, the hatch opened.
A gloved hand retrieved the tray without even glancing inside.
Kael didn't move.
But he heard it all: the wheels, the metal, the faint sigh of the one doing it.
Done.
Step one: routine intact. Trust in place.
⋆⭒✧༺༻✧⭒⋆
The next day brought no surprises.
Tests. Blood. Needles.
And silence.
Kael cooperated. Answered basic questions. Maintained the same dull tone he had rehearsed in his mind. Not submissive, not defiant. Neutral. Invisible.
That's what they wanted. A functioning subject. Not someone who asked questions.
Dr. Elian ran more physical tests. She observed everything with cold clinical calm.
"You're responding well to the treatment," she said.
Kael nodded, barely looking at her.
"What about her?" he asked.
Elian looked up.
"Sara?"
Kael didn't reply, but the answer was obvious.
"She's fine," she said. "In another wing. Safe. For now."
Kael lowered his gaze. Pretended to process the information.
But inside, every word was becoming a map.
Another wing.
That meant she wasn't far.
They wouldn't move her too far if they wanted to keep pressuring him easily.
That detail was crucial.
"Can I see her again?" he asked.
Elian hesitated.
"I don't think that's a good idea. The commander said, for now..."
"I just want to know she's okay. One minute. She doesn't even have to talk to me."
She looked at him in silence. Then noted something on her tablet.
"I'll check."
Kael nodded. Didn't push further.
Just watched her leave.
And when the door closed... he smiled. Just a little.
He now knew two important things:
One, Sara was close.
Two, Elian was starting to waver.
That was a good start.
But he would need more than information to get out.
He needed a distraction.
A crack in the structure.
An opportunity.
And if it didn't exist...
He'd have to create one.
⋆⭒✧༺༻✧⭒⋆
Night came again. Or at least, what he had come to understand as "night."
The light stayed on. The cameras kept spinning.
But his mind was no longer trapped.
It was working.
From his corner, he reviewed everything.
The guards' shifts.
The time they changed the trays.
The sluggish technician who always left the rear hallway door just slightly ajar.
Every tiny flaw was a possibility.
Every detail, a weak point.
Kael took a deep breath.
He wasn't afraid anymore. Just pressure in his chest.
Not for himself.
For her.
"I'll get you out of here, Sara..." he murmured. "Even if I have to tear this place down with my own hands."
He stood. Walked to the wall. Placed his open palm against the metal.
He remembered the book.
"Won't you protect the innocent?"
He remembered Luisa. The ones who were no longer here.
And then he said:
"I didn't come this far just to end up as some experiment."
He turned to the camera and stared directly into the lens.
He didn't speak.
He didn't smile.
He didn't shout.
He just stood there, steady, eyes locked on the glass.
And in that single gesture, he said it all.