Declared insane for what he had supposedly done, he was sent to reside in the bowels of the prison. He’d been thrown into a cell carrying nothing but the weight of false accusations and the fragile hope that truth might still matter. But once enclosed inside the walls of the prison, no one gave a damn if he was innocent or not. Day by day, piece by piece, they stripped everything from him, leaving something far darker in its place.
He’d entered prison an innocent male, but they had turned him into a killer.
While the majority of the prison had a veneer of civility, the three lower levels were a whole different world. Even the guards didn’t give two shits about what went on below unless it was during feeding time or when they had to descend into the pits of hell to let the animals out for recess.
There was something about confinement that changed people down to their very core. Being locked away didn’t just take away their freedom. It destroyed identities. Who they were on the outside no longer mattered. Their former selves simply didn’t exist any longer. In a place where trust was dangerous and vulnerability was punished, transformation wasn’t a choice.
It was inevitable.
Morality was a luxury no one could afford if they wanted to keep breathing.
While Mordecai had always been a warrior, prison changed him into something far more dangerous. He was forged into a sharp, unyielding weapon who didn’t mind getting bloody. Those who had initially considered him nothing more than a pampered lord quickly found out just how wrong they were. He met their assaults with a calculated kind of brutality, not from madness or cruelty, but from sheer determination and necessity.
The only thing anyone respected was pure strength, so he forced himself to become one of the strongest supernaturals inside the prison walls. He became the sort of threat that made everyone else fear him. One that struck back a thousand times harder if attacked. Since he only retaliated if provoked first, most of the inmates were smart enough to give him space after learning how he operated. Of course, a few newbies liked to try their luck on occasion, but they swiftly learned the error of their ways.
Those who rivaled him in power were cut from the same ruthless cloth. They were predators who understood exactly what it cost to survive, and none of them wasted energy on pointless bloodshed unless they were forced to. In the lower levels, open war between the strongest inmates didn’t just leave bodies behind.
It destabilized the fragile balance that kept everyone else in line.
Over the years, the strongest amongst them had fallen into a wary sort of alliance. It wasn’t friendship in any true sense of the word. There was no trust, no loyalty, and certainly no actual affection. There was only mutual understanding that chaos served no one. They did not share confidences or make promises. They divided territories, shared boundaries, and exchanged information when necessary.
Usually, they didn’t give a shit what happened unless it upset the order of things. If a riot threatened to spiral too far, one of them would step in. If a newcomer grew reckless enough, they dealt with them swiftly and without remorse. Each of them remained a loner in their own right, but they maintained the illusion of cooperation.
The wardens tried not to release more than a few members of the alliance at the same time, ensuring the different groups always included someone who could take charge and maintain order if necessary. Since it made their jobs easier, the guards gave them enough autonomy to deal with things their own way. Some would call it special privileges, but it was simply respecting the hierarchy.
Besides, fewer guards were hurt that way.
Mordecai was used to the way the others avoided him as he prowled around the indoor garden he was allowed to visit once a day. Some of the inmates whittled away the time by working, harvesting vegetables, or picking fruit from the trees. Othersrelaxed on the stone benches or sprawled out on the lawn, using the time to bask under the magically simulated sunlight.
There were even a few people writing letters to exchange with the next group of female inmates who would be in the garden during the next shift. Occasionally, the messages found their intended recipients, passed along through chance and discreet consideration. More often, the letters became unexpected gifts to strangers. Some of the letters offered words of comfort, confession, or curiosity, while others included random tidbits of information that might help someone acclimate to the harsh environment.
With no other means of communication between units, the hidden letters formed a fragile, secret network of connection. They were carefully concealed in corners, tucked beneath loose stones, or slipped into cracks in the common areas. Of course, the wardens knew about the letters, but since they found no harm in them, they didn’t bother putting a stop to the exchanges.
Out of idle curiosity, Mordecai would sometimes read a few when he came across them. He never lingered too long over the words, and he always returned each letter exactly where he had found it. He knew someone else needed them far more than he did. In a place where days blurred together, people clung to anything that broke the monotony.
For a while, survival itself had given Mordecai that sense of purpose. The need to stay alert and to protect himself had kept his mind occupied and his body engaged at all times. He’d lost count of the people who had tried to kill him over the years, but he remembered every life he had been forced to take.
And he blamed each and every one on the bastards who had framed him.
Focusing on survival had been a crude but effective way to combat boredom. However, that outlet was all but gone now, leaving behind a hollow emptiness he couldn’t escape. The onlything he could do anymore was enjoy the little slices of normalcy he could find throughout the long days and endless nights.
Patrolling the perimeter of the garden was a routine he had developed over time. He knew exactly how many steps it would take to complete the circuit without counting anymore, but he still enjoyed walking the familiar path.
He was used to most people, including the guards, avoiding eye contact with him. Those who were brave enough gave him a brief nod of greeting, which was returned with the same curtness. Outside the walls of the prison, those nods were the equivalent of hours of small talk over coffee and donuts. He paused to exchange a few brief words with one or two people, and noticed that all of their voicessounded rough from lack of use.
Most of the indoor garden was enclosed by stone walls, but one side of the room was comprised of nothing but an uninterrupted expanse of thick glass with a clear view of the shimmering blue lake. The light that filtered in through the window would have been enough to illuminate the entire room with its pale blue hue, but the ceiling was also enchanted to reflect an image of the real sky.
No matter how nice it seemed, there was no mistaking that it was still a cage.
The whole time he had been imprisoned there, he had never once seen so much as a ripple caused by a living creature in the lake. The absence felt wrong. Completely unnatural. He couldn’t decide if nothing could get close to the prison because of the numerous safeguards that were in place, or if there was something else wrong with the water that made it impossible for living things to survive.
Either way, it was fucking disturbing.
The lake wasn’t merely an obstacle. It was an impenetrable barrier and far deeper than most people realized. Whether bydesign or by something far worse, it meant escaping through the water was impossible. Even if someone managed to slip past the guards and through the numerous safeguards to make it beyond the walls, the lake would surely be the end of them unless they could manage to find a boat to use.
Mordecai had stopped wondering how many desperate souls had tried and failed to escape the prison since its creation. The only thing he knew for sure was he wasn’t one of them. Of course, he’d considered it…briefly. Every prisoner fantasized about it a time or two, but very few actually tried.
Besides, he was too damn lazy to try.
