Oubliette

I didn't know when I stopped falling. The endless descent gave way to a strange stillness, like the world had paused, holding its breath. Slowly, the vertigo ebbed, and I forced my eyes open, desperate to make sense of where I was.

At first, there was nothing but darkness, thick and impenetrable, like a heavy cloak wrapped tightly around me. But then, a flicker of light from above me, dim but steady, caught my attention.

I took a step forward, or at least, I thought I did. My feet felt heavy, as if the ground beneath me was wrong, uneven, unstable. Something about it didn't sit right. My pulse quickened, and the eerie silence pressed in from all sides.

"Where am I?" I whispered, my voice trembling, barely rising above the stillness.

The air felt thick with something ancient, like the weight of forgotten things. And then, a voice, low and raspy, answered from the darkness.

"Found yourself in an oubliette." A voice answered from in front of me. 

"A what?" I asked, confusion lacing my words. Fear gripped me as I squinted my eyes to try and see who it was that had spoken.

The air hung still again, heavy with silence, until a sharp scratch split through it, like the sound of a match being struck. It was quick, sudden, followed by a soft, almost imperceptible hiss as the match caught. The flame flickered to life, faint at first, its warmth not quite reaching me, but its presence undeniable, hanging in the air like a warning.

Then, from the darkened space in front of me, a lantern was lifted, its faint light casting long shadows and slowly beginning to illuminate the space around us. I looked around, trying to take in my surroundings, but the soft glow of the lantern barely stretched across the vast, circular room. The dim light revealed little beyond the stone walls, which seemed to close in on me, and nothing else in the space caught my eye.

I glanced back at the man, forcing a smile, though my heart raced with fear. As much as I wanted to run, I knew that, as it stood, he was the only one who could possibly offer me any answers.

He was tall, his frame almost impossibly thin, as though the years, or perhaps the very place we were in, had stretched him beyond the natural. His features were sharp, angular, as though he had been carved from the very stone around us. His skin was pale, unnaturally so, with a faint sheen to it, almost like the cold, damp stone of the oubliette itself. His eyes, however, were the most unsettling, a piercing shade of gray, like storm clouds gathering before a downpour, unblinking and intense. There was a strange depth to them, as if he could see through me, as though he could feel my every thought.

His hair, dark and unkempt, framed his face like a tangled web, long strands falling into his eyes as if he hadn't cared to cut it in ages. A tattered cloak, dark as the shadows around us, hung loosely from his shoulders, its edges frayed and worn, almost blending into the darkness. His hands were steady, though, as he held the lantern, and despite the dim light, there was a certain air of authority to him, something that commanded the space.

He stood there, unmoving, watching me with an expression that I couldn't quite place, indifference? Curiosity? Or perhaps something darker, hidden behind his unreadable gaze. The lantern's flicker revealed just enough of his form to make him more unsettling, his figure casting long shadows that seemed to stretch and twist unnaturally, as if the darkness itself was reaching out to claim him.

"Have you seen enough?" His voice carried a knowing edge, laced with something almost amused, almost cruel.

I swallowed hard. "Oh… sorry. Um… how do I get out of here?"

"You don't."

He moved then, slow and deliberate, settling onto a rough-hewn stone stool as if he had all the time in the world.

"What do you mean, I don't?" My pulse quickened.

"Once you're in an oubliette, you stay in the oubliette."

"That can't be true." My gaze darted around, searching for any sign of escape, a door, a crack in the stone, anything.

"Aye, but it is, lass." He gave a solemn nod. "I've been here for five hundred years. Haven't seen the outside since."

"Excuse me…five hundred years?" My voice wavered as I took an uneasy step back. No. He had to be lying. Or mad. Or both. "This is madness. That's it. I've finally lost it."

"Lost what?"

"My mind."

"Unlikely." He smirked. "Took me nearly three days to lose mine, and I didn't have much of one to begin with."

I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to shake the cold that had settled into my bones. The air here was damp, thick with the scent of wet stone and something else, something stale, like old decay. My fingers traced the rough wall beside me, feeling for anything, some flaw in the stonework, some hidden passage.

He watched me, his expression unreadable. "You'll search," he said after a moment. "They all do."

"They?" I froze.

"Aye." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You're not the first to fall into this hole. Won't be the last."

A chill ran down my spine. "Where are the others?"

He exhaled slowly. "Gone."

I swallowed. "Gone where?"

His smirk returned, but this time, it didn't reach his eyes. "That's the question, isn't it?"

Silence stretched between us, heavy and oppressive. The only sound was the distant, rhythmic drip of water echoing from somewhere unseen.

I forced myself to take a breath. "There has to be a way out."

He tilted his head. "And if there isn't?"

"There has to be." I wasn't ready to accept the alternative.

His gaze darkened. "Hope is the cruelest thing in this place. It'll keep you sane just long enough to break you."

I turned away from him, focusing on the walls again. He was wrong. He had to be. There was always a way out. There had to be.

Even if no one had ever found it.

Yet.