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For as long as Loam has occupied this room, for nearly his entire life, he has been running. The treadmill under his feet spins and spins, keeps above breathing, pulls him closer to the day he earns his passage.
The memory of the time before this room had faded, were so far buried until his friend played their music. The sting of those memories, so long gone, still aches. It makes him remember how long it has been since anyone but her came, since it was small enough to fit through the room’s only exit. But it doesn’t matter, and neither do the aches in his joints and the soreness of his shell. None of it matters because one day they will come and take him from this room, and he will finally see the wonders of the Citadel.
He just has to keep running.
Even when the ground starts shaking he does not stop. For a moment he thinks that, perhaps this is them finally coming to bring him up. Of course! He can’t fit through that little door so it only makes sense that they’d have to destroy the room to get him out!
The ground rumbles, the walls begin to shake apart but he cannot stop, cannot stop even as the roof begins to collapse around him. It is only when the treadmill under his feet refuses to move any more that he is forced to stop or risk running off of it.
For the first time in his memory, he can catch his breath and examine his surroundings. Everything around him is gone… the gears have broken, the treadmill she once ran on is buried beneath rubble, lanterns shattered across the ground and roof laying around his little corner of the room. Rocks have fallen down everywhere around him… everywhere but right where he stands.
But he can still see! Light pours in from the collapsed ceiling into his little room, coming from a source he cannot see.
… What is he supposed to do? Carefully, he tries to run again but the belt refuses to move. What will they think when they come down to get him and see he has failed at his only job?
He stands and looks at the hole where light pours in and wonders. Wonders where it must be coming from, some kind of temptation trying to stop him? Or could it be the holy light of the Citadel?
Waiting, waiting for a sign of what to do, scared of what might happen if he makes the wrong choice… Loam eventually decides to see. To just peek out, for a second before returning to his treadmill.
The texture of his feet on the floor is odd and new, almost enough to convince him to stop. He slowly creeps forward, craning his neck even lower to peek through the hole in the ceiling when the light finally comes into view. It’s so bright, nearly blindingly so after a life spent in this dim space.
Crawling up the ramp made by his room’s collapse, his worries about abandoning his station are almost completely forgotten as he straightens his legs and raises his head, for the first time in years standing in a space that isn’t cramped for him.
Light rains down from the sky above, an actual sky.
Before him, atop the rubble and rock are the gilded towers and roofs of the Citadel! But… but so much duller than he expected, covered in dust and cobwebs, crumbled and broken. Unsure of what this could mean, why he was set free, or where anyone is, Loam begins to walk toward Citadel. Perhaps he can find answers there, perhaps even his friend.
For the first time in his life, he is free.