elm with a hat

You step through the portal and enter Pandora's Vault.

The Warden stands before you. He asks you a question. "Does the prisoner deserve to be trapped here?"

"Perhaps," you respond.

The Warden sighs. He doesn't like your hesitance. It's foolish, he thinks, when you both know that you're not ready to leave yet.

You follow the Warden through black veins and shining arteries. Your footsteps echo. This place is quiet. "No one comes here but you now," the Warden tells you, and you know that he's right.

The Warden thinks you're pathetic.

The veins meet the heart. A molten curtain separates you from the prisoner. Slowly, softly, it falls away.

You watch.

Beyond the curtain, there's a cell. Its furnishings are sparse. You look for signs of life, but deep down, you know this place is lifeless.

There's no prisoner inside the cell.

You step onto the bridge and through the portal and enter Pandora's Vault.

The Warden stands before you. He asks you a question. "Does the prisoner deserve to be trapped here?"

"There is no prisoner," you respond.

The Warden surprises you. He smiles. "Come now, you don't really believe that. The prisoner's never left. I'll take you to the main cell, so you can see him and understand."

You follow the Warden through black veins and shining arteries. Your footsteps echo. This place is quiet. "No one comes here but you now," the Warden tells you, and you know that he's right. After all, it's a waste of time to visit a prison without a prisoner.

A row of cells lines the wall. You didn't notice them before. Perhaps one of them contains the prisoner, or perhaps it doesn't.

You peer inside.

The cell is bare and hollow. There's no one there. It's hard to make out anything through the darkness, and you notice something heavy and black in the air, clogging your lungs.

The Warden drags you away. His touch is like a cold breeze. "That's the wrong cell," he tells you. "No more delays, or there'll be consequences."

You continue onwards, until the veins meet the heart. You cough once. A molten curtain separates you from the prisoner. Slowly, softly, it falls away.

You watch.

Beyond the curtain, there's a cell. Its furnishings are sparse. You look for signs of life, but deep down, you know this place is lifeless.

There's no prisoner inside the cell. This doesn't surprise you anymore.

You step onto the bridge and glide across the gap.

There are no voices here. This place is quiet. It was a home once, and you think that it's still trying to be one. The Warden feels impossibly far away.

You look up at the ceiling, and you imagine that you can see the stars.

The black air is thicker now. It smells like burning.

You search for the prisoner.

The cell is small. There aren't many spaces to hide a body, but you search them all the same.

The cauldron is empty.

The lectern is empty.

The chest is empty.

But something has fallen behind the chest. You reach down to retrieve it. In your hands rests a sword, then a shield, then an axe, all shimmering with shifting violet light.

You recognize these items, you think. They're yours, you think.

"They're not yours," calls the Warden. You can barely hear him, even though he's right. You own no part of this place.

The black air finally overwhelms you. You cough twice. Your legs give out, and you fall backwards and through the portal and enter Pandora's Vault.

The Warden stands in the distance. He asks you a question. "Does the prisoner deserve to be trapped here?"

"I don't know who the prisoner is," you respond.

The Warden shrugs. "No one does anymore. Not even himself."

You follow the Warden through black veins and dull arteries. Your footsteps echo. The Warden's do not. "That's what's wrong with the prisoner," the Warden continues. "He's intangible. Cowardly. Hesitant. So no one comes here but you now."

The Warden thinks you're pathetic. The Warden thinks worse things about you too.

A row of cells lines the wall. Black smoke drifts lazily from beneath the doors, but you can breathe just fine.

Another door stands before you. It bursts with life. Vines climb and curl around its edges, twisting over a heavy lock. "That's the courtyard," the Warden explains. "We're not going there."

You smile at the vines.

It's impossible not to feel joy at the first sign of life in this place. You've wanted this, you know now. You've been wanting this.

As your smile grows, the vines grow with it. They prance along the walls and down from the ceiling. Patches of grass spring up beneath your feet. You smile at the grass.

The Warden frowns. You've confused him.

When you turn back to where you came from, the green follows your vision. Shoots peek through cracks in the walls as if in greeting. You didn't notice them before.

The Warden drags you away. His touch is like a cold breeze. You barely feel it, although he grips as tightly as he can.

You smile at the Warden.

The Warden's confusion grows. You're not supposed to be happy here. "Stop that," he demands, but you don't stop. It feels nice to smile. You haven't smiled in a long time.

You can no longer feel the Warden's touch, but when you look down, you can still see his fingers clutching your wrist. You step away. The fingers pass through your skin.

The Warden flickers like a candle.

The Warden disappears like smoke.

Alone, you stand among new life, and you smile. This place is quiet.

You continue onwards to the heart of Pandora's Vault.

All along the walls, flowers bloom through the bloodstream, forcing their way out of the darkness. The air is still black, and that's okay. There are other colors now too.

A molten curtain should separate you from the prisoner, but there is no prisoner. There isn't a curtain either.

Beyond a vast expanse, there's a cell. Its furnishings are sparse. You look for signs of life, and all you find is an ocean of vines.

You step onto the bridge and glide across the gap.

There are no voices here. This place is quieter than it used to be. It was a home once, and you think that it's still trying to be one. The Warden is impossibly far away. The Warden isn't coming back.

You look up at the ceiling, and you imagine that you can see the stars.

A sword and a shield and an axe sit beside you, all shimmering with shifting violet light. It's not the only color of light in the cell, but you're not sure where another color of light could be coming from.

You recognize these items, you think. They're yours, you think. No one tells you otherwise.

You examine the axe.

The blade is dull, tinted bronze-red, but it's not your blood that stains the metal. You've had many enemies. You remember them well.

You've also had friends. In another lifetime, you'd taught one of them to swing this axe. He wasn't the Warden then. He was never as good at violence as you are. Perhaps that was the last time you'd smiled.

Everything was simpler back then.

You step into the memory and out through a hole in the floor and enter Pandora's Vault.

The room is a ruin. Weeds claw their way through the obsidian. The walls are thick with ash from a disaster long ago. Something terrible has happened here. So many terrible things.

Your mind echoes an old question. Does the prisoner deserve to be trapped here?

You take a long, long time to consider your answer.

This quiet place holds its breath.

"No," you whisper. This time, your decision is final.

Because you are the prisoner, and you're not trapped here, no matter how many times you keep coming back. This isn't a place where people should be; not now, not even then. Perhaps you just didn't think you had anywhere else to go. Perhaps that's a problem for another time.

The portal behind you hasn't opened in years. You climb instead down the narrow tunnel you remember struggling to dig, scrambling past debris that was never moved, letting the dust clog your lungs. You're still alive, it tells you. You're still breathing. Softly, softly, this quiet place exhales. There's an exit ahead.

It's dark outside Pandora's Vault. When you look up at the sky, you realize that you can see the stars.