//------------------------------// // The Key // Story: Flight // by wkblack //------------------------------// Canary lay on the feather-littered floor, inert besides her breathing. Her mind still raced from the torture. They're trying to associate flight with pain. Her mind went back to when she'd said "no" and was spared. All this pain would leave if I just said what she wanted to hear. I could keep my feathers! Her heart sank in her chest and she winced. But Pink-eyes plucked me even when I gave the right answer. Her standard of 'believable' will just keep rising. Canary shook her head. I can't abandon what we've been fighting for! Her heart leapt, filling her with courage. I can do this. Feathers grow back! Canary's ears perked up at the sound of distant hoofsteps and muffled voices. One voice in particular stood out from the rest. “Aether?” She stood as tall as her restraints allowed and strained her head to see out the barred window. “Aether!” Her echo was the only response. Canary let her muscles relax. My ears must be playing tricks on me. But echoes of hoofsteps sounded again. Click. Canary snapped her head back towards the door. It was a different guard this time: a male slightly shorter than herself. It was his eyes that caught her gaze though—they were emerald, like the moss around her. Rather than the bridle, he carried a pot with a ladle sticking out. He was so thin, it surprised Canary he could even carry it. His ribs stuck out from under his skin so much that Canary figured he was even hungrier than she. “Food.” His voice had no inflection, as if he were reading off a number. Canary clamped her mouth shut. As he lifted the ladle, she sniffed at the slop, but only smelled the musty cell. If they wanted to kill me, they would have ages ago. It won't be poisoned. Hunger broke her resolve and Canary inhaled the mixture. If it had anything besides potato in it, she couldn't tell. It's humiliating, she thought, being spoon-fed like a filly! She felt her face redden. As the second ladle passed her lips, she looked back into the guard's emerald eyes. He was staring off into the distance, completely uninterested in Canary or anything else in the world. He hadn't even looked her in the eyes. This one feels different: empty, emotionless… “Why are you keeping us alive?” Canary tensed, preparing to be hit. The guard looked at Canary with mild surprise but made no response. “Why are you keeping us alive?” she repeated. “You're not supposed to ask questions,” the guard responded, lifting another ladle to her lips. Her muscles relaxed as she slurped her second sip. So not all of them are so violent. Curious now, Canary ventured another question. “What's your name?” Canary cringed. Of all the things I could have asked… The guard blinked twice and looked her in the eyes. His mouth hung open for a moment before he responded, “Echo.” Canary snorted. “What, do you not know your own name?” The guard frowned and poured another ladle into her lips. So it's one for three. Canary ventured another question. “Where does your name come from?” The guard's voice was halting, as if he were repeating something in a foreign language. “My parents. Stop talking.” Canary smiled and drank the third ladle.   « ~ »   A bolt of pain raced down Canary's wings and another primary fell in front of her nose. “Oh, we're running out of these,” came Pink-eyes' voice. The second 'conditioning' hadn't been as bad as the first—it had been a different guard—but she'd gotten Pink-eyes from the third time on. The pink-eyed guard knew exactly how to make plucking hurt the most—it was only with her that Canary ever bled from losing feathers. “Who is your leader?” “Aether!” Canary focused her mind on her prison, trying to correlate the pain to her bonds, and not to her friend. Is this the fifth session? How long has it been? She couldn't be sure in this cave; without the sun, there was no sense of night or day. A tear escaped her eye. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to how often they came or how long they lasted. She guessed it had been a month since entering Korporis, but as more hours ticked by, she trusted her mind less and less. “Can pegasi fly?” Canary held a breath in her lungs. Feathers grow back. Feathers grow back. Each feather she lost made her question whether she would ever fly again. She doubted she could even glide in her current state. “Yes,” she whispered, her tone nearly pleading. The guard plucked another feather. In a sudden shift of voice, the guard cooed, “Just give up—you don't need to be in so much pain. You're hurting yourself. Tell me the bats are your leaders.” Why do I even bother, Canary wondered. Why does it matter? I can just say it. She opened her mouth to speak, but choked on the words. “That's right. Just say it: We are your leaders.” Canary couldn't speak. But this is all that I have. They could torture me anyway. Why should I trust them now, when they've lied to us for centuries? Canary nodded to herself. “Aether!”   « ~ »   Canary's wings drooped as much as her restraints allowed. Though her body shook in pain, she wore a smile. “They will never break me,” Canary whispered to herself. The cave echoed back in affirmation: “They will never break me.” She nodded. “At least you agree with me.” Click. Her wings twitched. The last torture had been especially painful now that they'd started taking her covert feathers. Don't look back, she told herself. Stay calm. It's too early for another session. Her eyes darted backwards rested on a familiar face. “Echo! Good to see you.” The bat blinked twice in response. “What?” “As compared to the others, that is,” Canary clarified. Echo frowned and began feeding her. “You know,” she said between mouthfuls, “you don't have to be so angry all the time.” The bat lifted another spoonful to her mouth. “I don't have much to be happy about.” “Oh, woe is me! Free to come and go as I please, not chained to a dungeon floor, with perfectly intact wings—no, my life is the epitome of misery! Even flight has lost its luster!” A smug expression grew on Canary's face. Echo let out a single, high-pitched laugh before forcing his face back to neutrality. As casually as she could, Canary asked, “So, where are the others—the other members of the Storm?” “In cells, like yours.” Canary tried to hide her smile. “Oh. So why are you keeping us alive?” “They don't want you all to become martyrs.” He shook his head. “No, they can't allow that to happen.” “Why?” The guard blinked twice. “Do you not know? You started a revolution!” Canary's pupils dilated. “What?” “We didn't act soon enough—pegasi around all of Avondale have been—” Echo suddenly stopped. “Yes?” “You're not supposed to be talking to me,” Echo noted. “But you're the one talking to me!” Canary smiled smugly. Echo opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. He lifted another ladle to her lips. “So what have the pegasi been doing?” Canary's heart beat hard in her chest as she realized what she was saying. Echo stared Canary in the eyes. “You're not supposed to—” Echo cut himself short, allowing the sentence to die in his mouth. As he shuffled out the door, Canary swore she could see red on his cheeks. As water dropped from the ceiling, Canary mulled over the conversation she'd just experienced. What was that‽ I was flat-out mocking him. He laughed! And he was answering my questions—no other guard has even come close. She stared intently at the ground before her. And what was I doing, making casual conversation with a guard? The bats are the enemy! I shouldn't even pretend to be friends with those monsters!   « ~ »   “Echo!” The bat shuffled awkwardly into the room, carrying his pot as usual. His eyes rested on Canary's wings. “Oh.” “What?” “Your wings—they're—” “What?” Canary spat. “Ugly? Mangled?” The guard shook his head lightly. “They're bleeding—pretty badly. Was that Iris?” Canary tilted her head. “Iris?” “Female leatherwing. Arrogant, with a tongue of sugar-coated barbs… ” “And Pink-eyes?” Echo nodded. “She's the worst of the guards—she requested her position.” Canary felt her eyes try to form tears, but none came. “When I escape, I'll tear her to pieces! I'll find whoever's close to her, and I'll—” “Become just like her?” Canary opened her mouth vainly and closed it again. Echo frowned. “You can't destroy hate with hate,” he said, lifting the ladle to her mouth. “it only ever dies with love.” Canary nearly choked on the soup. “Love‽ Are you kidding?” Echo took a half-step back. “I'm just saying that—” “What? You think we can just hug it out? You think I can befriend a monster‽” The guard bit his lip, searching Canary's eyes for a moment. “I guess not.” Without a word, he delivered the remainder of her soup and turned to leave. “Wait!” Canary called. Echo paused and looked back with his emerald eyes. “I'm sorry—I didn't mean to—” Canary fumbled over her words. “I don't know what I said—” Echo shook his head. “No, it's fine. It's nothing.” The door slammed behind him. Canary stared at the door, tracing back the conversation. What is wrong with him? How can he expect me to love Iris? What does he expect of me? Canary shook her head. Since when do I care what leatherwings think, anyway‽ Iris is evil, and he knows that! Canary frowned. So why did he storm out like that?