Cursed Odyssey

"He asked if I felt like a completely different person for the past few days!" Joseph's voice came out as a harsh whisper as they maneuvered around the scattered boulders, wheelbarrows scraping against stone. "How absurd! How would that help his case?" His knuckles went white gripping the handles. "How did you answer? You're already suspicious of me, calling me 'Not Zephyr' and—"

"Don't worry." Samsara's smile held no warmth whatsoever. "I denied it all."

Joseph blinked, genuinely caught off guard. "But how..."

"Lie detectors don't work on me. Neither do honor vows." Her tone was matter-of-fact, casual as discussing the weather. "I have Chi to thank for that."

Something flickered in Joseph's eyes—a spark of understanding, maybe hope.

"What's with that face?" She leaned forward until they were almost touching, studying him. "Isn't that what you did to get out of your murder charge?"

"N—no. I don't know how to do that. I'm genuinely innocent."

"Oh really?" She pulled back with a soft chuckle.

"Do you think he asked that to everyone? Maybe we should ask Skylar to—"

"And why would we ask her?" The temperature in Samsara's voice dropped several degrees. "If you ask me, that girl is trouble. We told her to stay put, yet she's been following us the entire time."

Joseph's eyes widened. He glanced around without making it obvious he'd caught on.

"You seem way too trusting." Samsara shook her head. "Even if she were trustworthy, she wouldn't be able to say anything. We're all under honor vow spirits that prevent us from discussing what happened in that room. The only reason you know any of this is because those vows hold no power over me."

"I see." Joseph's response came slowly, thoughtfully.

"I'd keep an eye on all of them, by the way. Especially her."

"I... I know." Joseph took a deep breath.

"We don't have much time to freely discuss." Samsara's pace quickened slightly. "I assume this wasn't the only thing you wanted to talk about?"

"Yes." Joseph's voice dropped to barely audible. "The truth is, I've been experimenting with Chi for a while now. I seem to have developed a new technique I'd like to show you and test out."

Her lips curved with genuine intrigue. "Show me. There are several eyes on us, so only do it when we pass behind boulders and I give the all-clear. Understood?"

"Understood."

The anticipation thickened as they continued through the maze of rock and stone. Joseph's heart rate picked up—not from fear, but pure curiosity about what he might accomplish.

Behind a particularly large boulder, hidden from guards and inmates alike, Samsara gave a subtle nod.

"Now, Zephyr."

Oddly, Joseph hesitated. A full second passed before Samsara whispered again.

"I said now!"

"Oh—"

Joseph centered himself, extending both hands with fingers splayed. He focused intently on the space before them, whispering under his breath as he invoked the essence of his technique. The air seemed to thicken around them as he focused his energy outward, projecting the scene for the world to see.

'Temporal Echo, Act 1.'

*SNAP*

A faint shimmer appeared in the air like heat waves on summer asphalt. The scene around them shifted into outlines of white mist—reality itself bending to reflect sights and sounds from mere seconds ago. The echo was imperfect, translucent and blurred at the edges, but unmistakably a snapshot of the past.

Samsara's eyes widened.

"Incredible. This is Chi manipulation?"

The echo faded as quickly as it had appeared, leaving only the stark reality of the mines.

She kept her voice low. "I've never seen such a thing. If I didn't feel any Chi in the air, I'd have assumed this was arcane."

"I wish I had something arcane." Joseph pouted. "And I also wish you recognized it so I could get free advice. But yes, I assumed it'd be more complicated than usual techniques. I can capture moments in the past and replay them, but only for a very brief period. My current max is around five seconds. It's activated by snapping my fingers together with both hands."

Samsara remained silent, processing what she'd witnessed. "Fascinating," she finally said, genuine respect in her tone. "You've got quite the talent, Zephyr. I can see this being incredibly useful."

"If you don't mind, there are some other things I wanted to test out."

---

For the next few minutes, Joseph and Samsara experimented with several concepts for Temporal Echo that Joseph had in mind.

He discovered two key developments:

Projecting only sound.

With one snap, by focusing and refining his energy, Joseph could project only sounds from the past without visual elements. Just like normal projections, he could control whether only he heard it or everyone around him. This type of projection could record much more time—upwards of thirty seconds—and used considerably less energy.

Saving a recording.

By snapping his fingers twice, Joseph could save a projection to be displayed later, like a camera's save folder. However, this folder could only hold five recordings at a time. For a sixth to be added, one of the existing files needed to be deleted and replaced.

"Impressive ability." Samsara beamed beneath her blue mask.

"As long as I stay under the radar, I can use this to find a way out of here." Joseph clenched his fist and looked upward at the bright blue sky barely the size of his finger.

"Sounds like you already have an escape plan?" She leaned closer.

"Yes. And I'm gonna need your help to achieve it."

"As long as it's nothing absurd, I promise to help. I want nothing more than to escape this place by any means necessary. I must."

Something flickered in her dark blue eyes—moisture threatening to spill.

"If we stay walking much longer, the guards will grow suspicious. Let's find a pocket to mine, and we'll talk there."

Since Joseph had spent all his time before this mining for Rayah, his barrow sat empty. In comparison, Samsara had nearly filled her quota, along with most other prisoners who had slowly begun vacating the mines.

Making sure there were no listeners, they talked, plotted, and schemed for hours. Their entire escape plan hinged on this one conversation. Every detail was scrutinized and analyzed hundreds of times—it would decide their fate for the foreseeable future, and required utmost trust from both parties. They both had blackmail on each other regarding their secret Chi abilities, which made trust more likely.

Samsara was the first to fill her barrel. After completion, she began mining to help fill Joseph's. Though they were among the last to finish, it was all worth it.

"From now on, I'm gonna develop a tick of snapping. But every time I snap with two hands, you'll know I'm activating my temporal echo." Joseph whispered as they pushed their barrows toward the entrance.

"That would be for the best."

"Hey, Samsara. Do you mind if I ask why you have that cloth over your mouth? I haven't seen any other prisoner allowed to cover half their face like that. Or anything beyond the standard attire."

"It's a long and personal story. We don't have time for me to tell you."

The air turned stale as they exited the mines—a shift from the damp chill of the cavern to the musty warmth of underground passageways. Joseph, anxiety flickering in his eyes, pushed his crystal-filled wheelbarrow alongside Samsara. His hands occasionally twitched, fingers instinctively snapping together in his newly developed tick as they entered the elevator back to their cell.

Suddenly, as they disappeared from view, a crimson figure emerged from behind a nearby rock. It peered with narrowed eyes, gaze following their retreating forms intently.

"Zephyr and Samsara?" Skylar murmured under her breath, a wheelbarrow filled with crystals at her side—crystals she had finished collecting long ago. "What could those two possibly be up to?"

---

Samsara had gone ahead of Joseph so they could enter the cell at different times, raising less suspicion. Though he thought a fifteen-minute difference was excessive, he complied without argument.

After a long day mining, the sun had begun to set, orange hues turning bluish dark as lanterns and torches within the hall automatically lit. Escorted by a guard through the darkness, Joseph neared his cell. As he did, he began to hear unusual, loud noises.

The tone was exceptionally vibrant, and Joseph knew exactly why. Opening the door and being allowed to enter—

"HEY HEY HEY! Just in time to party! WOOOOO!" Gwynn greeted him.

"For the love of the Twenty-Two, keep your trap shut. I didn't ask for any of this." Flynn rolled his eyes.

"How about you shut up instead, party boy." Gwynn snickered. "It's your move."

On the stone floor, Gwynn and Flynn sat using debris edges to scratch the ground like pencils as they played what could only be described as a normal game of tic-tac-toe.

So they have this kind of game in this world? The thought briefly crossed Joseph's mind.

Arthur, who sat close by, was unusually silent—not urging them both to quiet down with bulging veins and a chip on his shoulder. His face held a vacant, almost gray pallor, a slight twitch on his bitten lips as he blankly spectated the game.

Rayah was in her corner, sleeping with her face toward the wall, an empty soup bowl similar to the one he'd drunk from that morning resting by her left shoulder. The luster he'd once seen in her white hair was now filthy and full of gray and brown—the longer she spent in this prison, the less exquisite and more fragile she appeared, like rusting metal.

Samsara, who had arrived minutes before him, sat solitary in her own corner, watching silently and diligently like a hawk. A sight everyone seemed to have long gotten used to.

"Hey hey! Our favourite little bucket of joy! Come join us!" Gwynn cheered.

"I'm not that short!" Joseph spat on instinct, "I assume this is all because Gwynn is getting released today, right?" Joseph asked, sitting down to spectate with a breath.

"You mean Flynn, right?" Gwynn raised an eyebrow.

"Oh—yeah. My bad, I sometimes mix up the names in my head."

"How could you mess it up? Gwynn is retarded, and Flynn is the literal personification of meathead."

"HEY! Who you calling meathead?! It looks like you just lost." Flynn placed an X in one of the corner squares.

"Huh? Lost? How?!"

"Well, no matter where you put your O, I'll still get three in a row. I have two places I can place to win—here and here." He began laughing in victory. "This is checkmate, 'retard'!"

"HEEEEHHHH. Bro, that's not faaaiiirrrr." He began crying, before his mouth turned into a sudden smirk. "Is what I would say if I didn't let you win on purpose since it's my last time seeing you!"

"Huh? Stop coping, little man. Either accept defeat or play again. Hey, Arthur, you think this idiot actually threw on purpose?"

"..."

"Arthur?" Flynn asked again. "Arthur?" But Arthur gave no response, not even the slightest reaction. It was almost as though he lived in his own separate world.

"Hey, Arthur? This is like the eleventh time they called you." Joseph leaned closer.

Those simple words seemed to puncture the bubble of Arthur's world as some color returned to his face.

"Eleven? Was it really eleven times? Was I really that out of it?"

"Probably not, you just seemed out of it and they asked you more than once so—"

"Out of all numbers, why eleven? Why is that so funny?" Arthur held his stomach from laughter.

"I don't know. Does it really matter?" Joseph's face appeared genuinely confused.

Before that conversation could lead anywhere, the creaking sound of their cell door opened as the last of their cellmates finally returned from the mine.

"Hey guys. Took me longer than I thought to finish my quota today." She timidly waved.

Hmm? That remark caught Joseph's attention. Knowing her mining speed, she should have finished far before Samsara and I. Why would she lie?

"Oh! Flynn!" Skylar's smile trembled. "I was worried you'd be gone before I got back! Thank the Twenty-Two I didn't miss the chance to say goodbye!"

"Yeah, I'm still here. Unfortunately." Flynn groaned. "So, Princess Gwynevere, ready to get your ass kicked, little girl? Or do you want to just admit I'm better and save yourself the embarrassment?"

Before Gwynn could respond, they were met with yet another, more abrupt interruption.

It seemed the guard who had led Skylar back also came for another purpose.

"Flynn Novus, I am here to escort you to your auction and release. Please follow me."

"About time." Flynn stood up, yawning. With a final glance around the cell, he turned to his cellmates. Awkward silence filled the cramped space.

"You know I'm gonna miss you, right? You better write me letters every day." Gwynn piped up, his voice wavering ever so slightly.

"They don't accept letters here, you dingus." Flynn mocked, though a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Then write me in your head so you don't forget about me!"

"Trust me, I would if I could. I tried, but you're impossible to forget." Flynn groaned before his features softened. "Take care."

Skylar stepped forward then, her gaze unexpectedly soft. "Flynn," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "good luck. Just... stay safe, okay? You better not die on me! Promise we'll meet again!"

"Wow wow! Where did all that come from?" Flynn chuckled. "I promise I'm not nearing any afterlife anytime soon. Don't worry, we'll definitely meet again! Now, you better stay safe until it's your turn out, okay?"

"Of course! I'll look forward to it!" Skylar managed a small smile.

Joseph watched the exchange, feeling like an outsider intruding on an intimate moment. Still, he stepped forward, clearing his throat. "We didn't get to talk much, but I've always wanted to get to know you more."

"Stand proud, Zephyr, you're stronger than you think. Dreg or not, I saw you like a lost little brother. Just promise me not to let 'her' order you around too much. You're both prisoners now, you know? Try and stand up for yourself here and there."

"I guess I'll try." Joseph nodded, but in reality, he disregarded every word. "Take care, unc…"

"Unc? Come on…" He chuckled, scruffing his growing stubble.

He smiled, then Flynn's eyes finally landed on Arthur, the one he knew most out of all of them. He had expected him to be jovial, crack some jokes, wish him luck and good fortune. But ever since they'd gotten back from the mines and his time for release had neared, he'd seen no such thing from him.

Arthur's usual stern demeanor had begun to show cracks. It was then he finally spoke, his voice laced with eerie somber-ness.

"Just keep an eye out, okay? Fight to the bitter end, no matter the circumstance. No matter what. Just don't let me find you lying with the rest."

His words were unusually cryptic. Fight? What fight? What circumstance? What rest?

His voice harbored an unusual tone, and his ticks and expressions conveyed emotions a child would have a hard time concealing, no matter how strong or hardened. Through his experience on Earth, Joseph knew this all too well—it was a sadness that bore no hint of joy, like the passing of a loved one.

"Arthur?" Flynn's brow knit with concern, but before he could respond further, the impatient guard cleared his throat loudly.

"Prisoner Novus, time to leave."

Flynn nodded, finality settling over him. With a gruff "See you around," he turned and followed the guard out of the cell. The heavy iron door slammed shut behind him, the echo reverberating through the room and the hearts of those left behind.

"I'll be waiting."

That voice—yes, he was most certainly crying.

Hours passed, and not a word was spoken.

Only the usual hums, groans, and clanks of the prison, the flicker of flame, the chirping of crickets, and the occasional low snap from Joseph's newfound tic punctuated the air.

Rayah had not moved from her spot in ages, seemingly long fast asleep.

Skylar stayed awake, her sniffling face mostly covered by her hands and long crimson hair. Her reddened eyes wandered aimlessly throughout the cell, landing on Joseph more often than not.

Samsara, who had been leaned forward and attentive, was now relaxed and staring at the ceiling as though deep in thought.

Gwynn leaned against the wall, eyes rimmed and cheeks hollowed and red—evidence of recent tears—while Arthur's face returned to its ashen mask, devoid of any previously shown emotions, as he tapped his fingers on the ground and stared.

Joseph outwardly mirrored something intermediate between all three of them—observant, pondering, with a pang of sadness.

His pupils wandered across the cell bars, then to the ground at a half-filled bowl. He stood up and with a zombie-like strut picked it up, gulping down some of it.

*BLEH.* Gagging slightly, he threw the rest lightly at the center of the cell bars.

But unlike last time, the outcome was different.

"FUCK!" The ground rumbled slightly. "You tryna die, kid?! Do you have any idea how insufferable these uniforms are to clean?!"

There was an unexpected target who had gotten splashed with cold, salty soup. Despite all that pressure, Joseph's gaze remained distant, unnervingly melancholic as he responded.

"I apologize, sir."

"Sorry won't cut it! You're sleeping in the gutter tonight!"