Falte had barely slept. He knew that it wasn't humanly possible to not get any sleep in five months, but he was certain that the average amount of sleep he got each night was definitely not enough. It wasn't just the dreadful nightmares littered with his fears and worries that kept him awake - it was those same worries and fears that caused his mind to wonder, sometimes in circles, for hours. There were some nights that he would lay awake, trying to calm himself down from a fearful fit of worry. All of it left him horribly exhausted, but he still couldn't find proper rest.

Though he was utterly drained, Falte's exhaustion didn't affect him the way that it did with normal people. Generally, someone who suffered from lack of sleep was snappy and irritated, and the smallest things annoyed them. Although there were times where Falte would catch himself before he, slightly flustered and annoyed, told the king and queen to be quiet, he would was mostly quiet and tired. His wife had always told him that when he was tired it was easy to tell, because he was distant and silent, zoning out occasionally. 

Ruby and Marcus noticed it as well. Often times they would look at him with concerned looks when he sighed and pushed his glasses to the top of his head to press his hands against his face. Even when he closed his eyes behind his fingers, he could feel them watching him with worried and upset expressions. 

The main things that were keeping Falte awake were these: the tormenting battle that Marcus was straining so hard to win, and the heart-wrenching terror and anxiety for Kai - where he was and what was being done to him. Falte was scared for Marcus, scared for Kai, scared for everyone in the castle. He wanted so badly for everyone to be here again, for everyone to be okay. 

For this to be over.

But every time that hope rose in Falte's mind, Caynen's words came back to him: "We may not make it out of this." That terrified Falte - the thought that the rest of their lives would be spent under the hands of The Dark Lord, the merciless killer that had wiped out the Lights twenty-seven years ago. 

And if there was anyone who knew about the Darks, their leader, and what it was like to fight them, Falte knew that it was Caynen. The Light had fought all throughout the two year war, and though it didn't sound long, it had obviously seemed long for those who had fought in it. Caynen had been a general, and he had battled head-to-head against The Dark Lord many times. If anyone knew The Dark Lord, it was Caynen.

And Caynen had been doubtful that things would work out. 

Which horrified Falte in a way that words couldn't explain. 

Falte often found himself wondering where the others were and if they were okay. He knew that Emily had been taken away without anyone with her, and that fact both angered him and scared him at the same time. But where was Chase and his sister? What about Ozai, who The Dark Lord seemed to loathe horribly, and Nanami? Where were Caynen and Artemis, and was Caynen all right? Was Rachel with Gabriel, wherever he was? How was Aaron faring, especially since he was sick? The thought of losing Aaron to something as simple as being locked in a cell made Falte want to break down and cry, which was an unusual thing for him. Was Amy being held under watch because of how fierce and determined she was? What was happening to Linda, who was a telepath? Where was Shintaro, what was being done to him, was he okay? Was Luke, the newcomer, all right? And Kai. Was Kai okay?

The most upsetting part was that Falte had just reunited with his son, and Kai had been ripped from his grasp again. He could hardly bear it. For years, he had thought his son was dead - when all that time, he'd been captive under a horrible Shadow that treated him like a slave. All that time, Kai had been alive. For what was only a few days, Falte had had his son back. But then he was gone again. 

Unfortunately, the night before had been one of the nights which Falte would lay awake, caught up in his thoughts and fears. It was morning now, and he wasn't sure how many hours of sleep he'd gotten - but he was awake now, and he didn't think he was going to fall back asleep. He was on his back, even though the position was terribly uncomfortable, looking about the room to try to get his mind away from itself.

To his right, Ruby and Marcus were a few paces from him, both of them silently asleep. Ruby was on her side, fitted against Marcus's chest with her face buried against his collarbone and her arms tucked close to her. Marcus's arm was draped over her back, and Falte noticed with a twinge of pity and sadness that the king's hand was clenched into a tight fist. 

Falte sighed and sat up, placing his glasses on his nose and running his hand through his tangled hair. There was a dim light coming from one of the near windows on the wall in the hallway, but it wasn't enough to illuminate the whole cell. The back corners were dark and empty, somehow managing to be creepy. 

Crossing his arms, Falte frowned at the corner in a way that made himself feel silly and looked away shortly with a huff through his nose. He happened to look out into the hall just in time - Caspian appeared at the bars with a handful of folded cloths filled with food. 

"Caspian," Falte greeted him with a smile, nodding his head gratefully up at the chef. 

"Falte," said the cook in return, kneeling down and pushing the cloths through the bars, one by one. "How are you all holding up?" 

In truth, Falte was very grateful that Caspian continued to risk trips to their cell. He knew that the chef was putting himself in danger every time, but somehow Falte found Caspian's company to be relieving and happy. It was inspiring that the cook was so loyal to the ones he called his rulers, especially since The Dark Lord claimed to be ruling now - and he was doing it through fear and power. 

"As well as we can," Falte replied with a shrug, scooting closer to the bars and taking the covered food. He sighed and sat back again, staring absently and solemnly at the cloth in his hands. "I just can't believe this is how it turned out. Well, I can. But I don't want to." 

Caspian was silent for a moment, obviously reflecting in his own solemn anger. "I understand how you feel. This wasn't how I thought I would spend my later years, yet... here we are. But if there's anything I know about the king and queen..." He looked over at the royals, smiling softly at them as they slept. "It's that they are determined and fierce, and they'll do what it takes to get their home back. 

"With your help, of course," the cook added with a lighthearted smile. "I personally don't think they could do much without you, adviser. I like to believe that it's because of you that they've gotten this far." 

Falte smiled wistfully at the kind chef, not sure what to say or feel about what was said. He was grateful that Caspian thought that way, but he couldn't help but think... Look at where we are now. 

"Whatever you do, Falte," said Caspian softly, standing up again, "don't give up." He nodded politely as a farewell, turning away from the bars.

But before he could get anywhere, a black tendril of magic appeared from somewhere out of view and wrapped around his throat. Caspian - his eyes wide and shocked - reacted quickly, stepping back to loosen the whip-like coil's hold on his neck. 

Falte was immediately on his feet, crying out in surprised worry. He rushed toward the bars, even though common sense told him that there was nothing he could do. Even so, he gripped the bars in desperate worry, his eyes darting sideways to see who had caught the cook. 

A Dark, one that Falte had never seen before, was standing a few paces away from the cell. The shadowy whip that held Caspian was wrapped around his wrist like a snake, part of it gripped in his raised fist. His eyes, a brown so dark it looked black, were sparkling with malice and delight as he watched the chef struggle. His hair, the color matching his eyes, was in a tangled nest on the top of his head, the sides buzzed short. His face was sharp and defined, giving him a menacing look. A scruffy goatee was neatly trimmed around his mouth and chin, sharpening the angles of his jaw. His mouth was curved up in a sly smirk that was directed toward Caspian. 

"Well, well, well," said the Dark, tilting his head menacingly as he spoke. His voice was deep and even, smoothly ominous. "What have we got here?" He stepped forward, gradually making his way toward the chef and wrapping the excess shadowy coil around his wrist as he did so. 

Eventually, the Dark was close enough to hold Caspian just inches from his face. The whip was tightly wound around the chef's neck and the Dark's arm, leaving Caspian with little movement. 

"It seems we have a sneaky little rat creeping about our halls," hissed the Dark, pulling harshly on the loose section of the whip and causing Caspian to make a choked sound. 

"What- are you going- to do about it?" Caspian managed, spitting out the words like poison. His gaze was pained, but the anger hardening in his eyes was dominant. 

The Dark clicked his tongue, displaying a mocking expression of disappointment and pity. "Consider yourself lucky, rat," he said roughly, leaning back slightly but not loosening his grip on the whip. "Fortunately for you, I have a different task at the moment. But don't worry," he added, a grin sliding onto his face. "You disobedience won't go unnoticed." 

"Disobedience?" Caspian challenged, his green eyes fiery and his mouth turning up in a pained grin. "I don't recall anyone- telling me that I couldn't- be up here." 

The Dark tilted his head, his smile vanishing instantly. 

For a moment, Falte felt his own grin work its way onto his face. But it didn't last long. 

"Little Thomas decides to go swimming in the river," said the Dark, and both Falte and Caspian blinked at him in confusion. "No one told him that it was wrong or forbidden. Next thing his parents know, Thomas is dead in the jaws of an alligator.

"You don't have to be told explicitly what to do or what not to do," spat the Dark, jerking his hand to tighten the whip. "Little Thomas should have used common sense to know not to swim in the river. You should use common sense to tell you that this is not your job." 

Caspian didn't have a comeback for this, and Falte realized that this probably was the last time the cook would show up at their bars. 

The Dark straightened his arm suddenly, allowing the whip to unwrap from his wrist. Caspian, not expecting the sudden loose, fell back and landed harshly on the floor, grunting in startled pain. The Dark sharply pulled back his arm again, the crack of the whip echoing through the hall. Caspian cried out again as the whip snapped away from his neck, twisting in the air for a moment before sizzling away. 

Falte winced at the raw, red marks around the chef's throat, but Caspian didn't seem to notice. He pushed himself to his feet again, cutting a defiant glare at the Dark. 

Suddenly, the dark haired Dark was directly in front of Falte. Before Falte could comprehend, the Dark's hand was clutching him by the throat tightly, cutting off Falte's airway and causing him to choke from the surprise and pain. 

"I'll take the food," hissed the Dark. "I'm going to let go of you, and you're going to-" 

"You are going to let go of him," seethed an angry voice from behind Falte.

Everything happened so fast that Falte could hardly make sense of what was happening. One moment, the Dark had his hand wrapped around Falte's throat - the next, a band of Dark Magic slammed into the Dark's chest and pinned him to the far wall. One moment, Falte was stumbling back and gasping for air - the next, Marcus was next to him, grabbing his shoulders and studying him while glaring menacing daggers at the trapped Dark. One moment, Caspian was there - the next, he was gone done the hall, walking calmly as if nothing had happened. One moment, Marcus looked like he was going to burst through the bars and attack the Dark - the next, Ruby was next to him, holding his arm with a nervous look. 

Falte blinked a few times, his mind trying to catch up. 

The Dark pinned to the wall stared at Marcus for a moment, then burst into delighted laughter. "Quite the marvelous show, Your Majesty. But you should know..." He grabbed the Dark band holding him to the wall and snapped it with a twist of his wrist. "I'm far stronger than you are." 

"I don't care," Marcus spat. "All I needed was for you to step away from Falte." 

"Don't worry, I won't hurt him," the Dark chuckled. "It's not him I'm here for. Ruby," he said, turning his gaze to the queen. "If you wouldn't mind... not that you have a choice in the matter... would you please accompany me?" 

"No," Marcus said immediately. 

Panic rose in Falte's chest, but his voice caught in his throat. What did the Darks want with Ruby? 

"You don't get a choice," the Dark hissed. "Neither of you do. Your Majesty, you're coming with me." 

And with a snap of his fingers, Ruby was outside of the cell, standing next to him.

~

Wow

Falte's chapters always end up longer than I plan them

Is that a good thing or a bad thing??

Whatever XD

If you hate this new Dark guy, don't worry

I KIND OF DO TOO?

I just made him because he's a character that I made up some time ago, and I figured I should put him in here somewhere

Don't worry, you'll learn his name soon

But I don't really like him, but he looks SO FREAKING BOSS

I FOUND A PICTURE ON THE INTERNET AND HAD TO MAKE HIM LOOK LIKE IT

Anyways, thanks for reading!!!

P3ac3!!!~~~~