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I’d lost count of the days we’d spent hidden, patiently waiting.
My natural curiosity chafed at Thillak’s evasiveness, and while our stolen moments gazing at the stars or entwined in each other’s arms kept my anxiety at bay, my impatience grew.
The confines of the cell and the monotony began to wear me down.
One particular afternoon, as I idly flipped through an old, tattered book of poetry (a find Thillak had delightedly gifted me), the door to our cell burst open.
Thillak, usually so composed and measured, appeared animated, his eyes alight with an excitement I hadn’t seen in days.
Tossing his hooded cloak to one side, he quickly advanced toward me.
“Isla, it’s happening. The moment we’ve been waiting for,” he panted, slightly out of breath.
I stood, dropping the book in surprise. “The… thing?” I asked hesitantly.
He nodded, his grin wide. “The very one.”
Before I could press him for details, he handed me my robe, swiftly but tenderly wrapping it around me.
His fingers brushed against my skin, sending a familiar thrill down my spine.
Leaning down, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss on my lips, and the savor of him — a hint of mint and that indefinable flavor that was uniquely Thillak — flooded my senses.
“Stay close,” he whispered, taking my hand and leading me out of our hiding place.
The prison was a hive of activity.
Everywhere I looked, inmates were bustling about, talking animatedly and gesticulating wildly.
The walls echoed with the sounds of shouts, laughter, and the distant clanging.
The atmosphere was so thick with excitement; it was almost palpable, like static before a storm.
Despite the commotion, Thillak seemed to know exactly where he was going, expertly navigating the chaotic corridors.
Instead of heading towards the gathering crowd and the source of the commotion, Thillak pulled me in the opposite direction, leading us deeper into the prison’s bowels.
The deeper we went, the colder it became.
The smell changed too.
Gone was the musky, sweat-filled aroma of the upper levels.
Here, the air was damp, filled with the earthy scent of moss-covered stones.
I shivered, both from the cold and the unease.
“Why are we heading down?” I whispered, my voice echoing in the stone corridor.
“You’ll see,” was all he said, squeezing my hand reassuringly.
After what felt like hours, we entered a vast chamber.
It was dimly lit, the occasional glow stick illuminating parts of the room.
In the center, I could see a structure resembling a spacecraft.
Its edges were worn, and it gave off a low hum that vibrated the ground beneath our feet.
