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Lyney had been captured two days ago. Since then, he has still yet to meet this “boss” he keeps hearing about, and he also has yet to be fed. The hunger was the least of his worries, though, and the magician was unfortunately used to going unfed for long periods of time. The days passed without Lyney’s conscious acknowledgment. He was a shell of himself. All he could do was stare at the metal bars that imprisoned him, eventually falling asleep long after his tailbone went numb.
On the morning of the third day, Lyney awoke to a loud crash echoing through the hallway. Voices floated down the stone and into his ears, but Lyney barely heard them. Even if he had it in him to react, he didn’t want to. He hadn’t moved from this spot on the floor since the afternoon of the first day.
The crashing and banging got louder. Probably just some scuffle between the guards and another prisoner. Lyney’s thoughts never strayed past surface level, and he let the concern slide out of his mind.
“…ney? Are…ou in…ere?”
That…sounded like his name. And that voice… It was so familiar.
“Lyney! …an you hea…us?”
That voice too… It was different, and yet, just as familiar.
Distantly, Lyney registered that the crashing had stopped. The suffocating silence of the prison had returned, only occasionally broken by those familiar voices. They seemed to be getting closer. Calling his name, urgency draping over the cells like a thick blanket. Soon, Lyney attributed the voices to be spoken by actual people, their thundering footsteps filling his ears and rattling his ribcage. Louder. Closer. The fog around Lyney’s mind finally began to clear…
And it vanished altogether when Lynette and Freminet stood on the other side of the prison bars.
“Lyney!”
“Archons, you’re okay…”
Everything within Lyney snapped. His indifference, his grief, everything. The tears once again flowed before he could stop them, the magician hauling himself to his feet. Weakly, he stumbled over to the bars and passed his eyes over his siblings. Were they…real? Were they allusions? Lynette placed her hand on his own.
“I should…” Lyney sniffled, “I should be saying that to you…”
Confusion passed over both of his siblings’ features. “Why wouldn’t we be okay?” Lynette asked cautiously. Freminet shifted his weight to his other foot.
Lyney took a deep breath and cleared his throat, but his voice still came out raw and disused. “I saw you both get taken out…”
“That’s…not possible,” Freminet furrowed his brows as he spoke, absently fidgeting with this coat.
“Right,” sighed Lynette, “We took out all of the people in grey. They were no match for us.”
Lyney’s mind struggled to wrap his head around that. “It was so real. I swear I saw it.”
“Tell us what you saw.”
He explained to the best of his ability, the note left at their home, the teacup card and Pers’ missing side panel, the strange glass that displayed moving pictures. He decided to omit his rage-induced rampage from the story.
Freminet pulled Pers out from the folds of his coat. Sure enough, the little robotic penguin was missing a side panel, exposing the complex machinery that allowed it to move. “I was wondering how he’d lost such a large component… Do you still have it?”
Lyney nodded. His kidnappers had only stripped him of his Vision and weapons, deciding to leave him with the only remnants of his family he still had. The side panel slipped easily into place once it was in Freminet’s hands. Lyney handed the teacup card back to Lynette as well, which she immediately transformed into the real thing. Great minds really do think alike, for she, too, checked the underside of the cup for its signature chip. Lynette reduced the teacup to its card form once again and slipped it in her pocket.
Tears having finally stopped, Lyney turned to his younger brother. “Have you ever heard of a mechanism that can display moving pictures?”
The diver shook his head. “No.” He seemed to think on this dilemma after answering, electing to work on unlocking Lyney’s cell to keep his hands busy. “Unless it was some sort of rapid slideshow of images…no. They would have to be cycling through at impossible speeds.” The door swung open. Lyney immediately crushed both of his siblings in the tightest embrace he could manage, though he himself could feel his own ribcage pressing against his skin.
“Thank you,” he whispered, pushing back a fresh wave of tears.
“We need to get out of here,” Lynette said, “Father will want to hear about this.”
Lyney winced. “I’m going to get quite the lecture…”
“Us too,” Freminet shrugged. He pulled himself away from Lyney’s hug prematurely.
“What? No, you won’t.”
Lynette pulled away too. “We came here unauthorized.”
“That was incredibly reckless!” Lyney exclaimed, feeling his usual spunk seep back into his body.
Freminet shifted uncomfortably, but Lyney could tell that he wasn’t here against his will. He feared Father’s lectures more than the twins did, and yet he still came along. “We didn’t want to wait any longer,” he said.
“Still,” protested Lyney, but his sister quickly cut him off.
“Nope, no ‘buts’. We’ll get through it together.”
As much as he’d like to try, winning an argument against Lynette was next to impossible. Lyney’s shoulders slumped in agreement. He felt much weaker than he should, though he suspected the days without eating and without access to his Vision were taking their toll. “We shouldn’t keep her waiting, then,” he sighed.
Freminet shook his head with urgency. He kept checking their surroundings, as if more hooded figures would suddenly appear through the walls to attack them.
“Um, as much as I’d like to leave as quickly as possible, my Vision and bow were both confiscated…”
“Here,” Lynette tossed over a fiery red gem incased in cool, smooth metal. The magician caught it easily, ambitions flooding through his veins once more. He already felt miles better. Lynette also held his bow, laying across her hands like she was presenting it as a gift. Lyney smiled and reclaimed his weapon.
“Ready to go now?” she asked.
Lyney nodded. The three siblings walked off in the direction of the light, inseparable.