When I’d first stumbled on this room a couple of weeks ago, I’d thought it was some sort of odd torture chamber. A tomb with no windows, one door, and a single chair beneath a domed white ceiling. I’d never seen anything like it, and it wasn’t until I’d been dusting the control panel, tucked behind a booth by the wall, that I’d accidentally pressed a button and it all suddenly made sense.
“I want to go to bed,” he grumbled but went inside anyway, his black coat whipping behind him, cloaking his black trousers and shirt.
He’d dressed when I had, but unlike him wearing actual clothes, I wore the only thing I’d found in the changing room—the thickest, cosiest white robe that was miles too big for me. The hood hung down my back, the sleeves swallowed my hands, and the hem drowned my feet. I probably looked ridiculous, but my God, I was toasty beneath the fluffy wonderful fleece.
Following him, I closed the door and flicked the switch.
A single lamp by the control panel sprang to life, granting enough illumination to spy the single recliner right beneath the apex of the dome. “Go sit over there.”
He turned to glower at me. “Why? What are you up to?”
“The fact that you’re asking means you don’t know what this room does, do you?”
“I’ve lived here twenty years. Do you honestly think I don’t know every inch of this cage?”
“Just sit.”
His hands balled. “You’re really starting to get on my nerves.”
I grinned. “Do as you’re told. You can scold me after.”
His gaze shot to the door and my heart stopped as he swayed to leave. But with a huff, he obeyed and reluctantly made his way to the recliner. His bare feet made no noise on the thick black carpet, the white domed ceiling falling to meet it, giving the impression we existed in the middle of a sphere.
Whisper went to sit by the chair, his ebony pelt making him become one with the floor.
“I don’t like surprises,” Lucien warned as he sat down, arranged his coat to cover his legs, and gripped the armrests. He winced a little as he reclined—the cut on his shoulder pressing against the chair.
I hoped he’d at least put a bandage on it because he hadn’t allowed me to tend to him.
“You don’t like anything,” I muttered, heading toward the control panel.
He glowered at me.
I smiled. “Which is completely understandable and not at all your fault.”
His growl was soft but threatening. “You have two minutes before I’m leaving.”
Tapping the master button to wake everything up, I thanked my past of working in a high-tech company like Snowflake Corp and regularly playing with projector screens when I should’ve been studying. I might not be good around people or feelings, but technology was different. It wasn’t messy or complicated but logical and didn’t stress me out.
Lucien made a noise as I flipped the switch to make the chair recline so he was almost lying down, his eyes locked on the domed ceiling.
“What are you doing?” Raising his arm, he shook down his coat sleeve, revealing the silver cuff around his wrist. “If you’re wanting to siphon my blood, you’ve brought me to the wrong chair in the wrong room.”
I ignored him and the way he made my insides scrunch with pity.
“Just relax.” Even as I said the word, I knew he wouldn’t be able to. Probably didn’t know the meaning of it.
Flicking another switch, my ears caught the quiet whirr of the program kicking in and the projectors preparing to play.
Lucien fought to sit up. “This is a waste of my—”
The entire dome flickered to life, transforming the room from a claustrophobic chamber into the wild tangled jungles of Borneo. Birdsong erupted, loud and crystal clear. Frogs croaked, adding wonderful percussion, while sunlight poured through huge umbrella trees, turning the light faintly green.
Lucien sucked in a breath as an orangutan ambled down a forest path, a little stream babbled past complete with jewelled dragonflies zipping over algae-slick rocks. Everywhere we looked, in every sense and corner, trees and vines and flowers swallowed us whole.
With the trick of immersive panels, we were transported from his prison into the world he hadn’t been allowed to step foot in for ever so long.
I couldn’t look away from him as the camera started to pan, moving forward as if we walked the path with the orangutan, micro details of tree trunks, lichen, and dust motes surrounding us. Rain began to fall, the soft ping of droplets like music on thick tropical leaves, intermixing with the birdsong and animal calls.
Whisper shot to his feet, snarling as a parrot screeched overhead, followed by a roar of a predator. His ears flickered, fangs bared, completely tricked by the illusion.
Just like his master.
Lucien sat frozen.
The green light of the jungle washed over his face, catching on the tightness of his mouth. His eyes slowly widened as he sank deeper into the chair, his fingers loosening around the armrests.
The deeper the scene took us into the heart of the jungle, the more his reaction broke something inside me.
The way he watched was like a wary child who’d never seen a flitting butterfly before. An angry boy who’d never been allowed to explore the wilds of the world or participate in life itself.
Whisper moved closer to the screen, his head whipping left and right as if every instinct in his body said this was home. This was where he’d come from. Some equally gorgeous forest before he’d been captured, just like Lucien.
Lucien suddenly launched himself out of the recliner and staggered toward the cat.
The two of them stood side by side, both transfixed and trembling, too caught up in the illusion to guard themselves.
I couldn’t breathe around the obstruction in my throat as Lucien rested his hand on Whisper’s head, almost as if leaning on him for support.
I’d brought him here as a crazy idea to give him a taste of freedom—even though I couldn’t break him out of Cinderkeep. I’d hoped he’d find a few minutes of entertainment—to forget about his shitty, agonising life—not drop to his knees as if I’d severed his strength to survive.
Whisper grunted as Lucien knelt, the thud of his legs audible even over the animal sounds. The panther pressed against his master, and Lucien wrapped an arm around the powerful form of his only friend, never taking his eyes off the unfolding world as the camera continued to pan.
Mist clung to the trees, curling around trunks thick with bromeliads in full bloom. Shafts of sunlight pierced the canopy in sparkling columns, scattering gold everywhere. Cicadas sang in the branches, and the carpet of fallen leaves tricked the senses into believing we could smell them—loamy and earthy and rich.
The forest rippled across his back as the projector cast images from all directions, ensuring no matter where he looked, he only saw open space with no walls, no drones, no pain.
His shoulders shuddered as he chuckled under his breath—a tortured, black little scoff. “You brought me here to watch a lie?”
Going to him, I dropped to my knees a little distance away, tucking my dressing gown over my lap to ensure I wouldn’t flash my naked skin beneath. “It’s not a lie. I’ve seen it.”
He didn’t look away from the jungle.
My heart thundered as I shared a piece of myself. “I’ve been there. This rainforest was one of the only places I’ve visited where every thought, worry, and fear just...disappeared.”
His gaze snapped to mine, glaring at me so intensely, so deeply, he hooked my heart and dragged it right into his control. The projection’s light made his eyes darker, deeper, full of misery.
Neither of us moved.
“And you thought you would share? Show me a place I can never visit?” he finally murmured.
I swallowed hard, hearing a trap in his words but unable to prevent stepping into it. “I can’t do anything else to help you. I can’t remove those cuffs or stop the pain that you feel. I can’t get you out of this house. I can’t take away your worries or fears but...I can try to make you happy...even for a moment.”
