DEAR DIARY,

I don't know whether I should be scared or grateful that I was still alive, given the faces of everyone here right now. We held our breaths, naturally, knowing that this person walking in could be the cause of my possible death. But he didn't actually look like my enemy; he was a friend.

A Verid.

More specifically, a Sir Verid.

The Sir Verids are appointed by Mama herself, and they had to undergo hundreds of screenings before they could get there. I remember her talking to the administration about their inductions, and how they had to "ensure vigilance" and "eliminate sinful behavior against Lord Malakar" at all times. I used to idolize them.

This guy wasn't my enemy.

He walked in wearing a deep brown trench coat, one marked with a curly V for the Verids' organization. His mask was the traditional Verid black, sleek and featureless, with only slits for his eyes that gave nothing away. His presence brought in a cold breeze from the outside, the stench of the air filling my nostrils discreetly. None of us dared to speak. I knew I would be safe and this kidnapper would be punished.

Keela seemed to stop breathing, her olive skin turning paler and paler as the Sir Verid got closer. We all knew the power he held, the authority he had in the hierarchy of our country. Everyone knew the Sir Verids were more than just enforcers of the law; they reported directly to the Council, and by association, Mama.

I swallowed hard, my heart thudding in my chest. His eyes—though obscured by the mask—seemed to scan the room, almost calculative. I was suddenly the one most calm, compared to the fear paralyzing Wylan and Keela.

He stopped near the center of the room, his movements precise. I waited for his words, the words that would get me back home.

Before he could speak, Keela piped up beside me. "Sir, I promise I didn't do anything. I was kidnapped along with her." She points to her restraints that seem to have gotten looser. "Look!"

Wylan glared dangerously at Keela, his eyes narrowing at her exclamation. I'd have expected him to bolt out the window by now, but he was still. I didn't see his robot friend anywhere.

"Hello, sir," Wylan says, "here's your bounty, please transfer the units to my VeriPad."

To say I was flabbergasted would be an understatement. I blinked at Wylan before turning to Keela who looked almost as bewildered as I did. I wished I could hear thoughts, then. It would've eased the pain of this situation. Wylan looked almost...nonchalant. As if this was just another transaction he often has with the enforcers of law. This was so out of place, so utterly at odds that I instantly suffocated on nothing but air.

The Sir Verid didn't respond immediately. Instead, his dark, featureless mask slightly turned toward Wylan. Wylan, on the other hand, avoided looking at me like I was the Nebulysis. Wylan was so relaxed, but I could tell by the subtle clenching of his first that he was slightly nervous about it all.

"Wonderful," he said, venom-like bitterness dripping from his voice. "This is going to change the world."

Keira cleared her throat dramatically. "Um, Sir. If you don't mind me asking..." She moved in her restraints, finding a more comfortable position. "How are we changing the world. Seems a little dramatic to me."

Wylan groaned. I could feel the heat of Wylan's frustration as his groan echoed faintly in the small, dimly lit space. The Sir Verid turned toward Keira slowly.

Finally, he spoke. "Change does not ask permission. It is the force that silences questions and bends even the strongest to its will." His voice was calm, unnervingly so, each word laced with authority and precision.

Keira blinked. "Sir, respectfully, that made no sense."

Wylan held out his VeriPad to Sir Verid, unlocking it to his bank balance. "Sir, please ignore her. I believe she may have sustained a brain injury when she was brought here."

Wylan was lucky Keira was restrained. From the look of pure anger on her face, I knew it was only a matter of time before she tackled him to the ground.

"Who else knows about this place?" he asked, ignoring Wylan's VeriPad.

It was a question that cut through the musty fog, direct and blunt. It was like he was trying to control the uncontrollable. But the Sir Verid's mask remained as unreadable as ever. His gaze lingered on Wylan for a moment longer than was necessary.

I felt my pulse quicken. The silence stretched further than the roads of Veridonia, and I wondered if we were all just waiting for some invisible signal to tell us what to do next. What did this man want from us? From me?

Finally, Wylan answered. "No one, Sir. Just us."

I heard people say there were many types of intelligence, dear diary. Wylan was an intelligent guy, for sure. He was remarkable at what he did, but did he really not think about how his answer could actually doom us? Perhaps not, but Keela's jaw dropped at his answer. She looked ready to scream at Wylan for his naivety.

The Sir Verid's voice suddenly sliced through the silence, low and dangerous, like the growl of a predator.

"Knowledge is power," he said, taking his time. "And power is a weapon. Too much knowledge makes people dangerous."

My heart skipped a beat. His answer wasn't the one we expected. He was talking in riddles, and the implications of it were terrifying. If he was suggesting that we knew something important, why don't I know what it is?

I felt Keela's breath hitch beside me. She shifted uncomfortably in her restraints, her fingers twitching as though she might try something—anything—to break free. But she had to know it was useless. Both of us knew it.

Wylan, on the other hand, remained unnervingly calm. He wasn't even fazed by the response, or the fact that the Sir Verid didn't transfer his million units yet. I noticed his jaw tightening with unease. It didn't look like fear—Wylan didn't seem like the type to show fear. But there was a cold calculation in his eyes, something far more dangerous than panic.

I studied him, wondering what he was planning. He had to know something we didn't—something about this Sir Verid, about this world, that give him the confidence to act this way.

I opened my mouth to ask, but Keela spoke before I could. "Sir, you're not making any sense at all. What does this have to do with us? Specifically, me? I was told I was just collateral damage."

The Sir Verid turned slowly toward her, the black slits of his mask narrowing as he sized her up. "You're more important than you think," he said, "All of you are."

I knew the unease was rippling through us. The room seemed to shrink, the walls pressing in on us, smaller and smaller until it was locking us in. Important? What did he mean by that?

Keela blinked, confusion clouding her expression. "What do you mean? Why are we here? I'm just an orphan. I think you're mistaken."

The Sir Verid remained silent for a long moment, his gaze flicking between us all, calculating. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he motioned to the door. The two guards standing at attention immediately moved toward it, unlocking the heavy iron door with a loud creak that echoed through the room. We glanced at each other with caution. One look at Wylan told me enough. He didn't know there were more Verids outside either.

Without a word, the Sir Verid turned on his heel, his cloak swishing behind him as he started toward the exit. The guards followed suit, and for a moment, it seemed like we were supposed to follow. But none of us moved.

The Sir Verid paused at the doorway, and though we couldn't see his face, I felt his attention shift to me. His voice rang out, quieter now, but still sharp enough to send a chill down my spine.

"You may not understand yet, but you will. Soon enough. And when you do, you'll wish you were never involved."

Then he was gone. The heavy door swung shut behind him with a finality that left me breathless.

For a long moment, none of us spoke. The only sound in the room was the quiet rustle of Keela's restraints as she shifted again, this time in frustration.

I exhaled slowly, my mind reeling. What had just happened?

"What does he mean?" Keela whispered, her voice shaking. "What did he mean by that?"

Ten seconds passed. I counted them on my fingers, but by then, there was a distant click and the sound of a door slamming shut. Wylan ran to the window, his eyes widening at the sight of something.

"No, no, no..." he whined. "Oh, for Malakar's sake! Jessie?"

"Yes, Wylan?"

"Check the perimeter, and confirm if—" he started, but was interrupted promptly by Jessie.

"Yes, we're locked. Industrial grade ones, fifteen all around. There's no way we're getting out."

Keela took the proximity to Wylan as an opportunity to kick him in the shin, earning a groan as he dropped to the ground like a fly.

"Ow! That was completely unnecessary!" Wylan grumbled, rubbing his leg as he glared at Keela.

Keela just crossed her arms, unimpressed. "This is literally all because of your inability to be less greedy. Did you actually think someone was going to give you a million units? Even five year olds from the Shnoc would know better!"

Wylan's eyes darted toward me for a moment. Then, he sighed. "I don't know what you want me to say, Keela. But panicking won't help us. We need to think."

I glanced toward Jessie, who was staring at the wall, her eyes glinting. Jessie had been quiet so far, but I needed her to speak the facts. Her eyes flicked toward mine, and I caught her gaze. "We're stuck here. No way out," she said.

"Great," Keela muttered. "This just keeps getting better."

I leaned back against the cold chair, trying to process everything that had just happened. The Sir Verid had been so cryptic, and yet, I could feel the weight of his words pressing down on me like a vice. "You may not understand yet, but you will. Soon enough. And when you do, you'll wish you were never involved."

I shuddered at the memory of his voice. What was he trying to say? What did he mean? Was it a threat? Or something more?

I turned to Wylan. "What do you think he meant?"

He didn't answer immediately, his brow furrowed as he looked around the room, his expression dark. Finally, he said, "I don't know. But I think we need to figure out what the Sir Verid knows. He's playing a bigger game than we realize. And if we don't understand it soon, we might be in more danger than we thought."

"Great," Keela muttered again. "We're in danger. How original."

I shook my head. "We need to focus. The Sir Verid mentioned 'knowledge,' and he seemed to think we knew something. But I have no idea what."

Wylan looked at me sharply. "I don't think it's what we know. It's who we are." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "You, especially."

Keela raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Wylan didn't answer. Instead, he moved to the small window, pressing his face against the bars, trying to get a better view of whatever he had seen earlier. Jessie followed him, squinting through the narrow crack between the bars.

"Someone's coming," Jessie muttered, her voice low but urgent. "And they're not alone."

I turned toward her. My pulse quickened. "Who?"

I didn't know if it was just me, but I felt my nostrils flare from inhaling something foreign. I tried to keep my eyes open, but it felt like the ground itself was shifting under me. My head was foggy, my thoughts scattered like confetti in the wind.

"Do you smell that?" Keela asked, sniffing the air. "Oh Lord! I can't...see..."

That's all I heard before my head went quiet and the thoughts stopped dancing. The silence that followed was jarring. The world felt muffled, as if someone had pressed their finger to my ear and cut off the connection to everything around me. My vision blurred, and I tried to steady myself, but my limbs refused to listen. My hands were trembling, my pulse quickening as a wave of nausea gripped me. The foreign scent was thick in the air now, clinging to my skin, my lungs, as if it was a part of me.

Keela's voice was distant, almost like it came from underwater. "What's happening?" she asked, the panic clear in her tone.

I couldn't respond. The drug—whatever it was—had hit harder than I expected, draining my energy and leaving me numb. My mind was sluggish, dragging behind the events around me, and it felt like I was fighting my own body just to stay conscious.

Wylan was the first to speak, his voice quieter now, but sharp, like he was struggling to keep his own composure. "It's the gas," he muttered. "They're using a neurotoxin... to keep us compliant."

I couldn't form a coherent thought, the weight of his words barely registering. My legs buckled under me, and I fell to my knees, struggling to stay upright. Jessie, still pressed against the window, was no better off. Her face was pale, her eyes unfocused, but she managed to let out a low hiss of frustration.

"Keep... keep it together," she muttered, though her voice wavered with the same panic I felt. But it was clear we were all losing control in one way or another.

Then, just when I thought the world might swallow me whole, I heard the unmistakable sound of boots on stone. Slow, deliberate, heavy.

I barely had the strength to lift my head, but through the haze, I saw them: shadowy figures advancing toward us through the darkened doorway. There was something almost ritualistic about their movement, the way they moved together, as if they were part of a machine.

Drop, drop, drop.

It felt like raindrops on the windows back home. Like Mama pouring out coffee for herself in the mornings. Or, Alissa watering the roses.

The last thing I saw was Alissa and the roses before the world went still.