Page 11 of The Bonds of Indigo

As the door shuts behind me, I take in the room. It’s small, plain. A wooden desk sits near the center, an open laptop and a single manila file laid neatly on top. Two bookshelves line the wall—more binders than books, all perfectly ordered.

The only splash of life in here is a multicolored rug, its warmth clashing with the cold gray of the rest of the space. Two windows break the monotony of concrete, one cracked open just enough to let in the faint scent of salt and the last light of day.

“Sergeant Butcher⁠—”

“Oh woah, no, please don’t,” I huff and shake my head adamantly. “I’m retired and only called for contract purposes with the militia, Warden. No ranks here. Simply Butcher.”

He smiles, the motion carving deeper wrinkles into his golden skin and pulling his eyes nearly shut. It’s genuine—at least, it looks that way.

“Butcher, then. It’s that rank of yours that got you in here, so we can dismiss it between us.”

It isn’t said with any hint of condescension, thankfully. I’d hate to have to degrade him by making him call me sir.

“When I got a call from a rather interesting man, saying you were on your way… I’ll admit, I was curious.”

“Are we acquaintances of the same interesting man?”

“No. He didn’t even provide his name, just yours. It was all I needed. I’m ex-frontline militia. Didn’t climb the ranks, but everyone, even the grunts, know of your name.”

I definitely don’t need my ego stroked, but I’ll take it anyway.

“Good to know this wasn’t out of the kindness of your own heart. That would have worried me.” The edge of my lip pops up in a smirk.

He laughs while adjusting the collar of his black officer’s suit. “No, definitely not. Especially when it comes to inmate 0338.” There’s slight discomfort in the way he says the number. “So, let’s get down to business. You’ve got me intrigued.”

I’m not exactly eager to divulge my intentions. Something tells me a Vampire trying to open the gates to the Beyond wouldn’t be received too warmly.

“I’m in need of help from a Yldarwright, and that from my understanding, is what inmate 0338 is.”

“That’s technically classified information… but that is indeed the case. What sort of help?”

Clicking my tongue against the roof of my mouth, I shake my head. “Classified.”

“Militia business?”

“No. Mine.”

He hums, and takes a deep breath. “Not entirely sure what they can do to help you inside of a prison. Are you looking to…” His words trail off, with his question lingering.

“Just talk to… them? Her? Him?”

“Do you really not know who inmate 0338 is, Butcher?”

I shake my head.

An amused chuckle vibrates his throat. “Inmate 0338 hasn’t had a single visitor since admission, which was seven years ago. They have a gender, but using it is… a privilege.”

Everyone that is here has done incredibly bad things. It doesn’t matter to me what this inmate did. Personally, I couldn’t care less. People that are sentenced to Thornegate are here for life, and aren’t here for simple murder charges. You’ve got to do some pretty fucked up shit to land yourself a bed here.

“You wish to speak with it. That’s all?”

I nod.

“Alright, then. That shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

“What’s their name?”

“Hmm, you aren’t familiar with their kind, are you?”