I had enough invisibility paste in my system for about one hour, plus two equal reserves in my backpack—one for me, and one for Demios, provided I found him. It took me a while to familiarize myself with the prison layout, especially with the cages on the bottom level.

Blaze and Caia left with the Correction Officer, while I continued to check every cage. The search process gave me an opportunity to get a better look at the prisoners. They all looked malnourished, weak, and simply out of their minds. Some were unconscious, lying on their bellies. Iron cuffs restricted their movements, the rough, unpolished metal digging into their bony ankles and wrists. Most of them had been in there for weeks, months, even years, but a couple seemed rather new to the “party” and had slightly more alert eye movements.

I had a feeling they’d be more useful to me than the others. Looking through the entire prison for Demios was going to take more than one hour, if I relied solely on myself. It couldn’t hurt to ask one of the inmates.

There was one, in particular, who caught my eye. A young Iman male, maybe in his early twenties. His brown clothes were tattered and dusty, and the wounds on his bare shins and forearms were scabbing. He glanced around, exuding an air of hopelessness that gave me a mild stomachache. I moved closer to his cage, and noticed his blue eyes—pupils strangely dilated. Based on what Heron had told me about the side effects of mind-bending, this Iman was definitely under the Mara influence.

I couldn’t reveal myself, but I needed to talk to him.

Here goes nothing…

“Please don’t be alarmed,” I said slowly.

The Iman’s head shot up, then turned left and right, his eyes wide as the color drained from his face.

“I’m right here,” I whispered, stepping forward. “You can’t see me because I’m cloaked.”

“Da… da… daemon…” He was horrified, slowly slipping to the back of his cage. His mouth opened as he prepared to scream from the bottom of his lungs.

Of course he thinks I’m a daemon. I’m freakin’ invisible!

“No, no, no, I’m not a daemon! Please, please be quiet,” I breathed, my voice trembling. “I’m here because I need to find my friend. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. I would’ve already, if I wanted to.”

He breathed heavily, almost hyperventilating, as he processed my words. He exhaled deeply, his shoulders dropping as he concluded that, indeed, I wasn’t going to hurt him. He was definitely more alert than the others, but still physically weakened.

“What… What do you want?” he mumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest, his cuffs jingling with each movement. “Who are you? How do I know you’re not a daemon, just playing with my head?”

That last one was a stretch. Even he probably knew it, given how his voice pitched higher toward the end of the question.

“I’m definitely not a daemon because if I were, I’d literally be draining the life out of you, and you probably know that, after last night.” I groaned, rolling my eyes. He couldn’t see me, though, which was a shame. It would’ve made my statement a lot more dramatic. “I’m Fiona, and I’m using the same cloaking spell that the daemons are using.”

“How… How did you get it?” He blinked several times, visibly dazed.

“That’s a long story. What’s your name?”

“Merin,” he replied, not sure where to look, since he could see right through me.

“Merin, why are you in prison?” I asked, trying to get the ball rolling, as I noticed him slowly loosening up.

“I… I stole gold from a Mara lady,” he sighed, guilt drawing shadows on his pale face. He wrapped his arms around his calves, pulling his legs closer to his chest. “I don’t know how long I’ll be here… A few months, maybe a year… If I live that long.”

“Why wouldn’t you live through it? Are they hurting you in here?”

His bitter chuckle made me rethink my question. He looked terrible, obviously not the recipient of any five-star treatment.

This is prison, Fiona. And it’s not your world. Focus!

I would’ve made a fantastic human rights campaigner, had I not been born and raised in The Shade.

“Did you not see those creatures trying to kill us last night?” he muttered, resting his forehead on his knees. “Not that I could see them, per se… but I could hear them. The others screaming and crying out in agony… They didn’t reach my cage, but the others behind you… they didn’t stand a chance…”

I glanced over my shoulder and saw the empty cages—six of them, to be precise, the iron bars bent, the locks broken, and the shackles discarded in a corner.

“What happened to the bodies?” I asked.

“The Correction Officers took them away, I guess… I don’t know, I’m mostly sleeping these days…”

“Merin, I don’t think the daemons will come back,” I told him. “We’ve sealed the tunnels, and we put a protection spell over the city. Hopefully last night was the last time you will see them.”

He shrugged, then let a sigh roll out of his chest. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, though he deserved to be in here. You’re supposed to pay for your crimes, after all.

“Hopefully,” he echoed.

“How did you know about the daemons? How did you know they’re called daemons?” I asked.

“They’ve been… part of our folklore for ages,” he murmured, staring blankly ahead. His tone felt a bit automated. “They’re evil and big, with red eyes and long claws… and they eat your soul.”

“Was last night the first time you saw them, so to speak?”

Merin blanked out for a moment, as if looking for the memory. He shook his head.

“I… I think so. I’d remember it. Right?”

“Why are you asking me? Were you mind-bent?” I replied.

“Would I know if I was mind-bent?” The corner of his mouth twitched. Yeah, he was definitely mind-bent, and I wasn’t going to get much out of him regarding the prison.

“That makes sense… sort of,” I muttered. “Listen, Merin, I need your help. If you can, that is. I’m looking for my friend Demios. Arrah’s brother? He worked in the Roho mansion. Do you, by any chance, know him?”

“Mm-hm…” He nodded slowly. “Most of the Imen my age know Demios. He used to be such a rascal when we were kids. One time, he almost burned down the White Star Hotel by accident, and we—”

“Merin, I’m in a bit of a rush here,” I interrupted him. On any other occasion, I probably would’ve endured one or two childhood memories, but my clock was ticking. I was maybe fifteen minutes away from needing a refill on my invisibility spell, and I had to be in Demios’s presence when that happened, so he could see me. “Do you know where they’re keeping him?”

“I do,” he said, pointing up above his head. “They let the inmates from above out once in a while, for ten minutes. He came by to see me. He’d heard me scream when they first brought me down here, begging to be reformed, not jailed. I wasn’t that lucky…”

Merin’s attention span was downright dismal.

“Where are they keeping him?” I persisted.

“Up on the third level,” he conceded. “Cell number twenty, he told me. As if I could do anything with that information while I’m stuck down here…”

“Well, turns out you just did something with it right now.” I wished he could see me smile. “Thank you, Merin, you’ve been really helpful. I promise I’ll speak to the Correction Officers in charge and see if we can get your sentence reduced or something.”

I was being honest. Of course, I wouldn’t tell them about how he helped me get to Demios, since I was going to break Arrah’s brother out of jail. But I was definitely going to speak to Lord Kifo about it… Maybe make up a little story about how he provided important information regarding last night’s daemon attack. Whatever worked.

“Thank you,” Merin replied, tears glazing his eyes as he pressed his lips tightly together.

“Hang in there,” I whispered, then left him and snuck up the metal stairs leading to the cellblocks above.

I walked past a Correction Officer, then checked the top side of the cells as I moved forward. Number five… ten… fifteen… twenty.

There was a young Iman lying in his scruffy single bed, staring at the ceiling. His facial features were the only thing he had in common with Arrah. His eyes were dark brown, and his hair was long and black as a crow’s feather. I found the striking difference between Demios and his sister quite odd; Arrah had a beautiful pair of pale green eyes and light brown hair.

I fumbled through my pockets for my lock-picking tool. It was a simple metal object resembling a very slim nail file. I couldn’t see what I was doing, but this wasn’t my first lock—nor was it going to be my last. My fingers worked on instinct until I heard the much-needed click, and I slowly pushed the cell door open.

Demios shot up into a seated position, his eyes wide with fear. Since he couldn’t see me yet, I could only imagine the horror going through his head, as he probably expected to get his soul eaten or something.

“Please don’t scream or anything,” I whispered, and pulled the cell door shut behind me, careful not to make any unnecessary noise. “I’m not a daemon. I’m not here to hurt you, I promise.”

He raised his eyebrows and gave me a brief nod. I realized then that he was looking right at me. I glanced down and noticed the invisibility spell fading away, revealing me.

“I can see that now… That you’re not a daemon, I mean,” Demios replied. “They’re ugly, scary beasts…”

“You’ve seen them, too?” I felt my jaw drop.

“Only in books.” He shrugged and moved to the side of his bed. His pupils were also dilated, but he seemed much calmer, more composed than Merin. A better sight than the Imen in the other cages, too. “I heard them last night, but… I couldn’t see them. Only white lights leaving the cages…”

“Oh… you witnessed the whole soul-eating part, then,” I said, then flipped back into my state of urgency. It was only a matter of time before a Correction Officer passed by Demios’s cell. I listened carefully to the footsteps, which were currently on the other side of the block. “Demios, I’m here to help you.”

“Help me how?”

He’s as blank as the other one…

“I’m going to get you out of here and take you to your sister,” I replied, and took my little jar of invisibility paste out of my backpack, holding it out for him to see. “Eat half of this, and we’ll be out of here in minutes.”

“Wait… Wait… Hold on.” Demios frowned, then shook his head. “I’m in prison. I committed a crime. I belong here.”

“Are you sure about that?” I raised an eyebrow, somehow sensing exactly how deleted his brain was. Once more, Heron’s accounts of extreme mind-bending came to mind, and Demios looked and sounded like an excellent example. His movements were slow, his responses even slower—not to mention the blank look on his face, the mild slur in his speech, and his dilated pupils, all signs of Mara intervention. He nodded, his lips parting as if his jaw couldn’t keep up with the rest of his head. “Okay, why are you in prison, then?”

“I… I committed a crime…”

“What crime?”

“I… I… I think I…”

I could almost hear his train of thought derailing and crashing into a dark abyss. He had no idea why he’d been jailed in the first place. His brow furrowed as he scratched the back of his head, struggling to remember.

“That’s what I thought,” I muttered. “You’ve been mind-bent, Demios. You don’t belong here. Your sister sent me. She knows you’re innocent.”

“You know my sister?”

“Yes, and I promised her I would help. Do you want to see Arrah again?” I asked. He nodded in response, so I gave him the jar. He took it with trembling fingers and stared at the shimmering paste inside for a moment, before he gave me a questioning look. “Eat half of that. It will make you invisible, like I was just now. I’ll need the other half. Once we vanish, we’ll be able to move freely and quietly get out of this place. They won’t even know what happened to you.”

The Correction Officer’s steps seemed closer than before. I needed Demios to move fast, so I removed the lid from the jar and took his hand, helping him scoop out some of the paste. He finished the rest of the movement and swallowed the glimmering cream, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth. He cringed a little.

“Yeah, not exactly honey and plums, I know.” I scoffed and consumed the rest of the jar before I put it back in my bag. No way was I leaving any evidence behind. I took Demios’s hand and helped him up, then hooked his finger into one of my pockets. “Okay, we’re about to vanish now. Whatever happens, do not let go of me, okay?”

Demios gazed at me with fascination. We were shimmering away, and disappeared before I heard the Correction Officer move forward on the other side. We still had about thirty seconds to get out without bumping into the Mara.

“Remember, Demios,” I whispered. “Don’t let go!”

“I won’t let go,” he breathed.

At least he was paying attention.

I fluffed up the raggedy pillows and sheets on Demios’s bed, enough to make it look like he was still in bed—at least from a distant, casual angle. We then left the cell, and I carefully pulled the door shut behind me and put the lock back in place.

It would require an extra ounce of attention from a Correction Officer to notice something wrong in Demios’s cell. If the universe worked in our favor, they wouldn’t notice he was gone until morning, at least.

I took a deep breath, and we quietly slipped down the stairs, all the way to the bottom level. My heart was pounding in my chest, but I took comfort in the fact that Demios was still clinging to my pocket—he was obeying me, which was important if we wanted to get out of here in one piece and without triggering any alarms, or, worse, some massive Iman-hunt…

We reached the gate through which Caia and Blaze had come through. I picked the lock, then gently opened it, and went through, frequently looking over my shoulder to make sure no one was looking our way. Fortunately, the Correction Officers were scattered above, their backs to us.

I closed the gate behind us, and then went up the stairs. About two minutes in, I could hear Demios breathing heavily. It was a long way up, and he didn’t have the physical strength to keep up with my usual speed.

“I’m guessing we’ll have to take a couple of breaks along the way.” I sighed. “It’s a long way up, my friend.”

“It’s… It’s okay… I can do it… But yeah… Breaks… I need… I need a break…”

Demios was already out of breath. I stretched my neck around, bracing myself for a slightly longer trip back to the top. It was either that or carry him on my back, and I didn’t want it to get to that just yet.

I’d had a long freaking day already, and I was exhausted. That bed at the Broken Bow Inn was already on my mind. And so was Zane and my experience as his prisoner. Weirdest six or seven hours in my life.

“Ready to go?” I asked, eager to drop him off at the South Bend Inn, where his sister was checked in, along with the other Lords’ servants.

The sooner I got Arrah on our side, the quicker I could just sink into a bed and black out for a few hours. Demios didn’t answer.

“Demios?”

“Yes?”

“Are you ready?” I reformulated my question.

“Yes, I nodded yes…”

“I can’t see you, buddy.” I almost stifled a grin before I remembered he couldn’t see me either. “Let’s go.”

We kept moving. It wasn’t long before he needed another break.

By the third pause, however, I groaned with frustration and grabbed him, tossing him over my shoulder like a bag of potatoes. He whimpered for a while, but eventually got accustomed to being carried up hundreds of stairs.

“You’re strong,” he croaked at one point.

Indeed, I was. But I was also very tired. Every minute that passed made me cry out for my bed. The adrenaline was finally leaving my body, and exhaustion was slowly settling in.

Just a little more, Fi. Just a bit.