[Story] Patriarchy

Prologue: Trapped

I wake up in a daze, my eyes and head pulsing with pain. I feel weak at the knees, and I'm barely halfway up before I'm forced to sit down again. I don't know what it is but exhaustion seems to be unrelenting. I sit back down on my thin bed and look around.

The room is cold and dark. Seems to be made mostly of brick and mortar. Moss and slimy green lichen climbs the walls.There is nothing but cold stone apart from one side of the room which is barred and locked. There's no way out, and my muscles are aching from my arms down to my feet.

I feel this odd despair. This time a month ago, I would have been glad to be on my own for the rest of my life, to have a little solitude. But now it has been a day and I already feel lonely. Having no conversation, no company, is not all it's cracked up to be. We are social creatures. And now I can't fufill that need.

I chase away the sprouting self pity with irritation and sigh as I stand up, fighting the exhaustion and muscle pain by leaning against the rough surface of the wall. God, I wish I knew how the others were doing. I hope they're alright, or at least in better condition than me. Still, after what I did, I can't expect to be back to normal after resting for a day.

The sounds of footsteps fills my ears. It's a relief after the hours of nothing but water dripping in these inhumane conditions. A different feeling than the despair and numbness I have felt since waking up here.

The footsteps stop after a moment, and silence descends over the area again. But only for a little while, as I hear a creaking, oily screech after a moment. It seems to be the sound of the far door opening, and I stay deathly quiet, even though they have me captured here. Instinct is slow to die, it seems.

Another set of footsteps walks past my cell and I listen carefully. These footsteps appear to be high heels. A woman's footsteps.

Again the footsteps stop, but this time a voice marks the end o their trip.

"Why did you call me here?" The voice sounds tense, stressed, and I'm pretty sure I've heard it somewhere before... But I just can't pin it down. Irritating...

"I think it's obvious, don't you?" The voice is female. A mocking and condescending tone laces every word. "To discuss the fate of the children you've been campaigning so admirably for."

I feel my shoulders knot at her voice. That voice... that voice I have no chance of forgetting. It was her. She is the woman who ruined my life. The woman who took it all away from me. Just hearing her voice maks me so full of hatred and anger I want to break the bars just to wring her neck.

Now she is continuing to talk to the man, who appeared to be quiet. Or shocked into silence. "I just talked to a representative of the Immortals. It seems our lady wants the rebels executed at dawn. Publicly.

"W-what?" gulps the man. He appears to have lost his composure entirely now, and is flustered, stuttering. "B-but, they're only children! Why on earth would she want to execute children?!"

"It is not for us to ask why," the woman says, sounding bored. "Only to obey orders. Can you do that, Icarus?"

"I-I don't think this is right..." murmurs Icarus. "I can't make it seem right to me, Christine. I just can't do-"

"Enough." Christine's voice is cold, but the mocking undertone is still undoubtedly there. "You must not disobey your superiors, Icarus. What are you Suns and we Moons against Immortals?" She was using the voice a mother would use to soothe a hurt child. "I don't think it's realistic now, do you?" She chuckles, then her voice goes hard again. "Do as you're told, Icarus, or face the consequences."

The flash of sheer white light was blinding, and I have to close my eyes because it makes them sting and draws tears. What on Earth is going on? Is she using magic? A Moon using magic? I thought there was only one Moon who could use magic, but now this Christine is too?

When the light fades, I see particles of white dust drifting lazily around the cell, remnants of the magic the woman cast to teleport out.

Icarus sighs, and after a moment, I hear footsteps start again. Seconds later, the grating screech resounds and the door slams shut.

Again I am left with nothing but watery dripping for company.

Dammit. If I had only seen that traitor in the fold. If only I had seen them coming, instead of welcoming them. My friend had betrayed me, and it had cost us all our freedom.

And at dawn, it would cost us our lives.[b]