Xanthus’s blood pulsed in his throat as the guards led him deep into Panthon Prison. The water seemed to thicken and darken. The cells were packed with inmates. Each wore the same expression—a mixture of shock and elation. Half of the criminals here had been brought in by Xanthus. He’d never dreamed he would one day be a prisoner alongside them.
“Oran… Ry…” His voice growled low. “The female is not what she seems. I am giving you fair warning. If you find yourself on the wrong side of this, you will assure your death. And it won’t be delivered by me, but by someone infinitely more powerful. But if you help me, you will not go unrewarded.”
“Shut up, prisoner,” Ry said, poking the point of his harpoon at Xanthus’s back, drawing blood.
Rage and despair nearly overcame Xanthus when they reached the deepest prison cells or ‘the belly of the beast’ as they called it. The cells here were small, so small that a Dagonian couldn’t swim, couldn’t even move. Each cell was a living coffin. Whether you were put in head first or tail first would determine how much you suffered here.
Tail first—you would still be able to catch the occasional fish that swam close to the bars of your cell. Head first—you had no chance. You’d waste away and die a slow death. Some of the Dagonians down here were nothing more than skin and bones. Their near immortality allowed them to live quite a long while despite their emaciated conditions, but each moment was wrought with a hunger so fierce they were soon driven mad.
Xanthus heard the wailing of other prisoners. He’d always hated this part of the prison. The endless suffering, the way each Dagonian, no matter how strong-willed, succumbed to the misery here was difficult to witness. No one who had been here for any length of time could escape the madness. He knew Sara’s only hope was for him to convince one of the guards to help them.
“I will give you one final warning, honorable guards.” Xanthus spoke low. “Don’t listen to my father, brother, or the counsel on this one. They are wrong, clinging to twisted beliefs. In this case, it will lead to a great number of deaths and suffering for us Dagonians. You don’t know who it is you hold in this prison. Help her and you’ll find protection, but harm her in any way and there will be no mercy.”
Oran turned to Ry. “Maybe we should listen to him. Xanthus has always proven honorable before.”
“Are you siding with a cur lover?” Ry shouted and curled his lips in disgust.
“But he said she isn’t what she seems. I think we should believe him.”
“Well, I think you may need to be taken before the counsel yourself. You know the punishment for disobeying a counsel order.”
Oh yeah. Oran’s life as a soldier would be over.
“You’re right,” Oran relented. “He’s got to be lying.”
“I know I’m right. This pathetic Dagonian has decided to side with the human murderers. He deserves our worst.”
Xanthus didn’t like the sound of that. But he’d reached Oran on some level. It might not take much to push the soldier into helping him.
Ry opened a cell that had recently had its bars replaced. They looked shiny and strong. There would be no breaking out of this.
Xanthus resisted the urge to try to reason more with the guards. He didn’t want to appear desperate, despite feeling just that. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and gave them a hard look that promised retribution. Oran took one look at his face and quickly turned away.
“In the cell,” Ry said.
Xanthus began to back his way in.
“No. You go in head first.”
“You really want to do that?” Xanthus sneered. “The counsel might be angry if I’m not alive to answer for the many soldiers I killed this day. But hey, it’s your life.”
Doubt clouded Ry’s eyes for a brief moment and then it was gone. “If you’re that important to them, they’ll ask for you long before your life expires. Now move.”
Xanthus inched his way into the dark, stony cell. He felt as if he were entering his own coffin. Perhaps he was. His mind raced. Should he have continued to fight after Sara was captured, regardless of whether or not they survived? Death may have been a better option. He hoped not, but at this moment, he had serious doubts. As bad as he found his own situation, he was tormented not knowing what was happening to her. The guards were not known for their gentleness, but so help him, if they laid a hand on her, he’d send them all to Tartarus to answer to Hades, or better yet, he’d send them to her father.
With that thought, a light switched on in Xanthus’s head. A smile spread across his face. There was hope after all. Once the guards were gone, he spoke the words that would bring him unimaginable pain.