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I thought back to the day I had learned Kuana was being held at Ikmal prison.
Even without proof, I somehow knew it to be true.
Getting into Ikmal was not hard — especially as a female — but getting out was a problem.
That was when I approached some informant contacts I’d made over the years and they put me in touch with Ikhax.
He would provide me with an escape — along with one other prisoner — in exchange for information.
And now that I was in the prison, he wanted what I knew.
“So…?” he said, letting the unasked question hang between us.
I cleared my throat, my palms sweaty despite my attempt to remain composed. “Ikhax, I have the information,” I began cautiously. “But there’s been a… complication.”
His eyes narrowed, one of his arms instinctively reaching out to grip the counter beside him, conveying a sense of restrained anger. “Complication? What kind of complication?”
I hesitated for a moment, trying to choose my words carefully. “I’m not yet ready to leave the prison. I have certain… things I need to do first.”
Namely, convince Kuana to leave with me!
Ikhax’s eyes, already piercing, seemed to drill into me. “You’re playing games with me, Violet,” he hissed.
“I assure you, I’m not,” I responded, trying to keep my voice steady. “You’ll get your information. I’ve come too far to back out now.”
Ikhax’s gaze lingered on me for a few long, agonizing moments. “Our deal was specific. You give me details about the research center that went up in flames five years ago, and in return, I grant you a way out of this prison, along with one prisoner of your choice. It was a simple, straightforward transaction.”
I nodded, memories of the explosion and the subsequent loss filling my mind.
But I couldn’t let Ikhax see my emotional vulnerability. “I understand. And I fully intend to uphold my end of the bargain. I just… I need a little more time.”
His four arms waved animatedly, his frustration evident.
Then, I blinked.
Suddenly, I found myself not in Ikhax’s cell, but standing on lush, green grass.
The sudden change disoriented me, the bright sun above blinding after the dim corridors of the prison.
I blinked and tried to process the rapid shift in surroundings.
Beautiful, vibrant flowers surrounded me, their fragrance intoxicating.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” came Ikhax’s voice from behind.
I spun around, finding him leisurely picking a gleaming red fruit from a tree. “Ikhax? What happened? Where are we?”
He grinned, his four arms each occupied with a different task — two plucking fruits, one stroking the petals of a flower, and the fourth waving a small creature away. “Ah, Violet, welcome to my Fabrication.”
“Fabrication?” I echoed, looking around in bewilderment. “This feels…. real.”
Ikhax chuckled. “It is real, to an extent. It’s a skill our species mastered long ago — a way of diving into the psyche, creating a shared world. A world where the only limit is imagination.”
“But… why?” I pressed.
He approached me, holding out one of the glistening red fruits. “Privacy. Out there,” he said, gesturing vaguely upwards, “we can be overheard, watched. But in here? We’re in your head. It’s just the two of us.”
Eyeing the fruit hesitantly, I reached out and took it.
