He continued down the staircase till he found himself at the second level. The Mist slid a key in and opened the door, letting light into the vault of blackness. It was divided into eight vast cells, four on each side, with a twenty-foot corridor down the middle. Only two of these cells were currently occupied. The second level of Narak was reserved for the vilest criminals of the Union, a place unknown to most Hastinas living over it, above ground. The speciality of this level lay in how time did not move here. It came to a grinding halt in this vault. The prisoners here aged very slowly. And what was better, they healed. The few Acharyas Shakuni had employed to uncover its secrets, had long given up. But Shakuni did not really care for its origins, as long as it got his work done.

So, instead of restraining prisoners, their limbs were amputated. The prisoners would regrow their limbs slowly, excruciatingly, but surely; only to have them amputated again. An eternity of healing…and torture, till the mind itself abandoned the body. In here, death was not a granted release. Only madness was.

One of the cells had a boy of barely ten summers, clutching filthy, bloodstained rags to himself. The Resht had dared drink water from a well in the Crowns. Even Karna knew better. The boy’s face was hollow with hunger. His heels scraped the stones as he tried to push himself further back into the corner, blabbering something in broken Sanskrit, one hand raised to shield his face from the light.

In places like this, the only thing worse than darkness is light. For light only means more torture. I remember...

A pair of feline eyes tracked Shakuni as he stepped up to the other cell door. No torches burned in this cell. There was no need for them. His friend provided light of his own. The eyes moved towards Shakuni. Myriad colours swirled in those depths. Shakuni limped into the dank space, careful not to let any of the sticky fluorescent blood of the prisoner smear his robe. ‘Any success?’ he asked.

‘None, My Lord,’ the Mist replied. ‘Our usual methods do not seem to be working. He doesn’t seem to need to eat food or drink water. We tried waterboarding him but it didn’t work. We were working to raise…’

‘No time!’ Shakuni snapped. He looked at the prisoner, their eyes meeting like a clash of arms. Chill clutched at Shakuni’s stomach and he dragged his gaze away. ‘Any reports of spies trying to get out what we have here?’

‘No, My Lord,’ the Mist answered confidently. ‘Only one way out of this place, and I have barred any other Mist from descending to the second level.’

‘Well, someone leaked it to the White Eagle.’ There was no point looking at the Mist to gauge his reaction, his face was hidden behind the inscrutable mask. ‘I don’t like leaks.’