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Ceara’s audacity and the sheer power of his ability had given us the upper hand.
Breathless and elated, we continued our sprint to freedom.
The alarms still blared around us, but with Ceara’s gift guiding our path and our shared determination fueling our steps, the dream of escape felt within our grasp.
* * *
The echoing of the prison’s alarm was deafening, the crimson hue of the emergency lights creating a labyrinth of shadows and illusions.
But Ceara’s hand in mine grounded me, and every sense was heightened.
The coldness of the steel beneath my boots, the sharp tang of metal and disinfectant that hung in the air, and the frantic beating of my heart created a symphony of intensity.
As we sprinted through the corridors, an authoritative voice resonated through the speaker system, instructing all prisoners to return to their cells.
For a moment, I was reminded of schoolyard drills, where we’d be ushered back to safety by our teachers.
But there was no safety here.
Some prisoners obeyed immediately, filing into their cells like conditioned animals.
Others seemed confused, caught in the crossfire of their desire for freedom and the compulsion to follow orders.
The atmosphere was charged with uncertainty, fear, and the tinge of hope.
We rounded a corner, and the metallic aroma of sweat from the gathered prisoners assaulted my nostrils.
Their conversations, filled with speculations and anxieties, buzzed in my ears, creating a cacophony that I had to push through.
Suddenly, the distinct sound of guards’ boots pounding against the metal floors grew louder.
Without hesitation, Ceara yanked me into a different corridor, trying to evade them.
My eyes darted everywhere, searching for an exit.
But as we continued, it became painfully clear that we were being cornered.
A sudden chill ran down my spine, every fiber of my being screaming that we were trapped.
Sure enough, as we skidded to a stop, guards were closing in from both directions.
Their stern faces hidden behind masks, their eyes cold and unyielding.
As despair threatened to envelop me, a sneering voice rang out. “No guard to protect you this time…”
My heart dropped as I recognized him.
The prisoner who had attacked me just days before.
He stood with a cruel smirk playing on his lips, muscles tense, ready for a fight.
My fingers tightened around Ceara’s, drawing strength from his presence.
Ceara stepped forward, placing himself between me and the imminent threat. “We don’t want trouble. Let us pass.”
The malicious laughter of the prisoner sent shivers down my spine.
But before he could retort, a shout from a guard drew our attention.
