The rain did not fall. It hung.

We stood in the corridor. The air was thick. It tasted of rust. And old paper. My boots were wet. The floor was slick. It smelled of vinegar.

"Is he here?" I asked.

My voice was flat. It carried no weight.

"Room four," said Elias.

He leaned against the wall. His shoulder pressed into the damp plaster. The plaster crumbled. A fine dust fell onto his coat. He did not brush it off.

"Four," I repeated.

We walked. The hallway was long. It curved. It ended in a blind spot. The light was dim. It flickered. It buzzed.

I thought of the mark. The brand. It was on my arm. It was not a scar. It was a word. It was my name. It was my duty. It was my cage. I had worn it for years. It burned when I moved. It cooled when I stood still. It was always there.

"Stop," Elias said.

We stopped.

There was a door. It was red. It was closed. The handle was cold. It was steel.

"Knock," I said.

He did not move.

"Knock," I said again.

He looked at me. His eyes were tired. They were deep. They were dark. He looked at my arm. He looked at the word. He looked at my face.

"I can't," he said.

"Why?"

"Because it is him."

"Who?"

"Kael."

The name hung in the air. It was heavy. It was sharp.

Kael.

My friend. My brother in blood. My mirror.

I raised my hand. I knocked.

The sound was dull. It was soft.

"Open up," I said.

My voice was steady. It was calm.

There was no answer.

I knocked again.

"Open up."

Silence.

I pulled out my weapon. It was short. It was black. It was clean. I checked the mechanism. It was locked. I unlocked it. The click was loud. It echoed.

"Last time," I said.

I kicked the door.

It did not break. It shuddered. It held.

I kicked it again.

The wood splintered. The frame cracked.

The door flew open.

The room was small. It was bare. There was a bed. There was a chair. There was a table. The table was wet.

Kael sat in the chair.

He wore a grey shirt. It was torn. It was stained. His head was low. His hands were tied. The rope was thick. It was rough.

He looked up.

His face was pale. His eyes were bright. They were clear. They were full of life.

"Hello," he said.

His voice was soft. It was gentle.

"Kael," I said.

"I knew you would come."

"Why are you here?"

"They took me."

"Who?"

"The Council."

I stepped inside. The door slammed shut behind me. The lock engaged. The room was sealed.

Elias stayed outside. I could hear his breathing. It was quick. It was ragged.

I looked at Kael. I looked at his hands. I looked at the rope.

"Cut it," I said.

"I can't."

"I said cut it."

"I can't," he said. "They are watching."

I looked at the wall. There was a screen. It was black. It was still. But I knew. I knew they were there. They were always there.

I went to the table. I picked up a knife. It was small. It was dull. I held it out.

"Cut it," I said.

He shook his head.

"Let go of it," he said.

"Cut it."

"I am tired, Thomas."

"Cut it."

"I don't want to run."

I froze. The knife trembled in my hand.

"What?"

"I don't want to run."

"Cut the rope."

"I am finished."

"Cut the rope."

He smiled. It was small. It was sad. It was real.

"You are the one who is finished," he said.

I moved closer. I gripped the rope. I pulled. It did not move. It was tight.

"Let go," he said.

"I won't let you die."

"You will," he said. "You will do your duty."

I looked at the screen. It was still black.

I looked at Kael. His eyes were fixed on me. They did not blink.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I am the man you arrested."

"No."

"I am the man you protected."

"Cut the rope."

"I am not going anywhere."

I felt a pain in my chest. It was sharp. It was hot. It spread to my arms. It spread to my legs.

I thought of the mark. The word. It burned. It burned hotter.

"Who are you?" I asked again.

"I am you," he said.

The room was quiet. The rain tapped against the glass. The glass was dirty. The view was blurred.

"I am the one who stayed," he said. "I am the one who fought. I am the one who broke."

"I will cut the rope."

"You will not."

"I will."

I raised the knife. I held it over the rope. My hand was steady. My heart was not.

Elias knocked on the door.

"Thomas," he said. "Open the door."

I did not answer.

"Thomas."

I looked at Kael.

"Do it," Kael said. "Kill me."

"No."

"Cut the rope. And kill me."

"Why?"

"Because it is the only way."

"I will not kill you."

"You will," he said. "You always do."

I looked at the knife. I looked at the rope. I looked at my arm. The word burned.

I realized something. The word was not my name. It was not my duty. It was a lie. It was a chain.

I dropped the knife. It clattered on the floor.

I grabbed the rope. I pulled. It snapped.

Kael’s hands fell to his sides. They were red. They were raw.

He stood up. He was taller than me. He was stronger than me.

He did not attack me.

He walked to the door.

"Open it," he said to Elias.

Elias did not move.

"Open it," Kael said.

The lock clicked. The door opened.

Elias stepped aside.

Kael walked out. He did not look back. He did not run. He walked down the hallway. He walked toward the light.

I stayed in the room. I sat on the bed.

The screen turned on. It showed a face. It was the Council. It was cold. It was empty.

"Subject secured," the voice said.

I looked at my arm. The word was fading. The ink was bleeding out. It was gone.

I stood up. I walked to the door. I opened it.

The hallway was empty. The rain had stopped. The air was clear.

I walked to the end of the hall. I walked to the stairs. I walked down.

I walked out of the building.

The city was grey. The streets were wet. The people were silent. They watched me. They did not speak. They did not move.

I walked. I walked. I walked.

I did not go home. I did not go to work. I walked.

I found a park. The grass was wet. The trees were bare.

I sat on a bench. I closed my eyes.

I felt the cold. I felt the wet. I felt the pain.

It was real. It was mine.

I opened my eyes.

The sun was coming up. It was pale. It was weak. It was there.

I stood up. I walked away.

I was free.

I was alone.

I was me.