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I saw her.
Not as the woman in the corridor, but as the ethereal being of my past.
Her radiant smile, her flowing hair — a cascade of shimmering violet — and her eyes, oh those eyes, filled with galaxies of stories and dreams.
We were dancing, twirling in a world devoid of prisons and pain.
But even as the joy of the memory threatened to envelop me, a shadow loomed, turning the vivid hues of the dream into stark monochromes of reality.
I snapped back to the present, the weight of my past crushing down on me.
It had been years since those times.
It might as well have been millenia.
Times when love was more than just a fleeting emotion, when promises were not mere words, and when Violet — my Violet — was still with me.
A sudden pang of guilt washed over me.
If it were truly her, if by some cosmic twist of fate she had found her way to Ikmal, I owed it to her, to us, to find out.
But even as my mind raced with possibilities, a blinding flash of violet light filled my cell, making me shield my eyes instinctively.
The brilliance of it was both familiar and foreign.
It felt like an echo of our past, yet tinged with the urgency of the present.
I took a deep breath and found the inner peace I had spent years becoming attuned with.
The light faded slowly, leaving me blinking in confusion.
What was happening?
Was this another manifestation of my tortured psyche, or was it a sign, a beacon leading me to the answers?
My thoughts were interrupted by a sound that was rare in the solitude of my cell — a knock on the door.
I approached cautiously.
Prison etiquette did not include courteous knocks.
It could be a trap or perhaps another twisted game orchestrated by the prison authorities.
But as I neared the door, an unmistakable feeling surged through me, a magnetic pull I hadn’t felt in eons.
Standing still for a moment, I took a deep breath.
I had faced countless challenges, both within these walls and outside.
But the possibility of coming face to face with a ghost from my past was perhaps the most daunting.
* * *
In the quiet corridors of Ikmal prison, silence rarely meant peace.
Rather, it was the unsettling prelude to the storm.
With each passing second, my unease deepened.
