You wake with the taste of iron and old dust on your tongue. The cellar is cold. It has always been cold. You remember the smell of the mortar, the sharp bite of lime, and the heavy, wet weight of the stone blocks. You are a mason. You have been a mason for forty years. Your hands are mapped with scars that look like the cracks in the old city walls. You look at them now. They are trembling.

The gate above you is closed. The iron bars are thick. They are black with age and rust. You can see the sky through the gaps. It is pale. It is thin. It looks like paper that has been soaked in water and then dried. You do not look at the sky. You look at the floor.

There is a hole in the floor.

It is small. No wider than your hand. It is in the corner, where the dampness gathers. You have seen it before. You saw it when they brought you in. You saw it when they fed you. You saw it when they left you to sleep. But you did not touch it. You were afraid. You are still afraid.

The system is not angry. It is not cruel. It is just a machine. It grinds. It does not stop. It does not care. You are a part of it now. You are a stone in the wall. You do not move. You do not speak. You wait.

Your friend is there. He is not in the cell with you. He is in the cell next to yours. You can hear him. He is humming. It is a low sound. It is a song from the north. He is singing about the river. He is singing about the fish. He is singing about the time the ice broke and the boat sank.

You know he is dying. You know because the humming is getting slower. It is getting thinner. It is like a thread being pulled. You want to go to him. You want to put your hand on his shoulder. You want to tell him that the ice did not break. You want to tell him that the boat did not sink. You want to tell him that you are still here.

But you cannot move. The bars are strong. The guards are strong. The system is strong. You are weak. You are a mason who has lost his tools. You have nothing. You have only your hands and your fear.

The hole in the floor is growing.

You do not know how. You do not know when. But it is growing. It is like a wound that will not close. It is like a crack in the glass. It is spreading. You watch it. You watch it with your eyes and with your heart. You feel it in your bones.

The humming stops.

There is silence.

The silence is heavy. It presses on your chest. It presses on your throat. It presses on your mind. You are alone. You are truly alone. The wall between you and your friend is thick. It is solid. It is made of stone. You cannot break it. You cannot climb it. You cannot fly over it.

You are a mason. You know stone. You know its weight. You know its strength. You know its weakness. You know where it breaks. You know where it cracks. You know that stone is not alive. It does not feel. It does not care. It just is.

You are stone.

You sit in the dark. You wait. You do not sleep. You do not eat. You do not drink. You just wait. You wait for the crack to widen. You wait for the light to come in. You wait for the end.

The days pass. You do not count them. You do not mark them. Time is a circle. It goes around and around. It does not stop. It does not speed up. It does not slow down. It just is.

The hole is larger now. It is the size of a coin. You can see the dirt below. It is black. It is rich. It smells of rain. You can see the roots of the trees. They are white. They are thin. They look like veins.

You reach out. You touch the edge of the hole. The stone is smooth. It is worn. It has been touched by many hands. You feel a pull. It is not a physical pull. It is a spiritual pull. It is a call. It is a whisper.

It says: Go.

You do not want to go. You are afraid of the dark. You are afraid of the deep. You are afraid of the unknown. You are afraid of the void. But you are more afraid of staying. You are more afraid of the silence. You are more afraid of the stone.

You stand up. Your legs are stiff. Your muscles are tight. You move slowly. You move carefully. You do not make a sound. You are a ghost. You are a shadow. You are nothing.

You kneel by the hole. You look down. The darkness is absolute. It is infinite. It is eternal. You see no bottom. You see no end. You see only the black.

You climb in.

The stone catches your jacket. It tears. It pulls. It holds. You struggle. You fight. You push. You pull. You dig with your hands. You dig with your nails. You dig with your teeth. You do not stop. You do not rest. You do not breathe.

The hole widens.

The stone cracks.

The crack runs across the floor. It runs across the wall. It runs across the ceiling. The sound is loud. It is like a thunderclap. It is like a gunshot. It is like a scream.

The floor gives way.

You fall.

You fall into the dark. You fall into the deep. You fall into the void. You fall into the unknown. You fall into the end.

You hit the ground.

It is soft. It is mud. It is wet. It is cold. You are lying on your back. You can see the sky. It is bright. It is blue. It is clear. It is beautiful.

You are alive.

You are free.

You look at your hands. They are covered in mud. They are covered in blood. They are covered in stone. They are broken. They are shattered. They are ruined.

You look at the ground. There is a tree. It is an oak. It is old. It is huge. Its roots are thick. They are twisted. They are like snakes. They are like fingers. They are reaching out.

You crawl toward the tree. You crawl on your hands and knees. You crawl through the mud. You crawl through the roots. You crawl toward the light.

You reach the trunk. You touch it. It is rough. It is hard. It is alive. You feel a pulse. It is slow. It is strong. It is steady.

You lean against it. You close your eyes. You breathe. You breathe in. You breathe out. You breathe in. You breathe out.

The pain is gone. The fear is gone. The silence is gone. There is only the sound of the wind. There is only the sound of the leaves. There is only the sound of the earth.

You are not a mason anymore. You are not a prisoner anymore. You are not a stone anymore. You are a leaf. You are a root. You are a part of the tree. You are a part of the earth. You are a part of the life.

You open your eyes. You see the sun. It is setting. It is orange. It is red. It is gold. It is fading.

You know it is ending. You know it is dying. You know it is leaving. But it is beautiful. It is perfect. It is complete.

You smile.

You close your eyes.

You let go.

The tree stands tall. The roots hold firm. The earth remains. The sky changes. The light fades. The darkness comes.

You are gone.

You are everywhere.

You are the stone.

You are the crack.

You are the light.

You are the truth.

The system is broken.

The wall is down.

The gate is open.

The stone is free.

You are free.