Punishment Halls

When her new circumstances as a member of the Cartel finally settled in her mind, Koral had braced herself for a world of relentless darkness, suffering and toil —However, reality was that her life would actually be cloaked beneath comfort and luxury instead.

Gone were the days of stealing and swindling on the unforgiving streets, her tattered clothes replaced by a wardrobe she was allowed to handpick from whichever store she wanted. The pangs of hunger that had once been her constant companion were quieted by a steady supply of bought meals, of rich flavors she had only smelled from the outside windows of restaurants.

Even her living environment boldly defied her fantasies, in the form of a lavish hotel suite outfitted with every amenity she could think of. The hum of air conditioning was a pleasant contrast to the precarious places she had previously called home, while the flickering images of a large television set and games promised an escape into places beyond her reach.

It was a fierce departure from the harsh existence of her past, one that should have brought her immense relief and gratitude. Yet the opulence never managed to completely shake the lingering emptiness that gnawed her heart.

All of the material comforts provided by Apollo and Valerica were undeniable, a far cry from the squalor she had endured so long… But these luxuries served only as a thin veneer, a facade to distract her from the void that had taken root in her core.

Koral wished she could share all of that with Kirana.

No matter how finely woven the silk veil draped over her gaze was, just like the medical patch concealing her ruined eye, it could never fully numb the ache simmering beneath the surface.

But it did serve as a potent distraction, a means to occupy her attention during the waking hours, and to stave off the nightmares that lurked in the shadows once the lights faded to black.

More intriguing than any tangible indulgence, however, was the enigmatic presence of the boy who could be considered her peer of sorts, as mismatched as they were.

From a tender age, Koral had harbored a deep-seated dislike for those of the opposite sex. What sparse interactions she had endured with boys had been invariably unpleasant —from the rude and brutish antics of the immature, to the dangerous and threatening advances of the older ones; emboldened by their situation.

For two young girls forced to navigate the harsh underbelly of society, her and Kirana’s striking appearances and vulnerabilities had always invited unwanted attention.

Yet Kyros seemed to defy her preconceived notions, drawing her curiosity once the initial reservations faded over the span of days spent in shared company.

To begin with, he seldom spoke. His grasp on their shared language appeared tenuous at best, and many times Koral found herself thrust into the role of translator, attempting to bridge the divide between Kyros and the other adults around them —a task made all the more arduous by the ineptitude of their supposed handlers.

Despite the boy clearly being older than her, the burden of guiding him through this new reality often fell squarely on her slight shoulders —a responsibility she took with a small, but burgeoning sense of pride.

And as the emptiness that once clouded his eyes gradually began to dissipate, the subdued sense of wildness she had initially perceived in him returned in a more visible shape.

To Koral, Kyros had an aura akin to that of a feral animal, plucked from its natural habitat and thrown into unfamiliar surroundings, which made every tentative interaction all the more rewarding —like a challenge to get such an oddball more or less tamed.

Or so she tried to perceive it, as a way to keep her from thinking on the multitude of questions still left unanswered. Once the two of them were successfully housed, Apollo parted to remain absent ever since, busied with who-the-hell-knew.

She was hesitant enough to not voice her inquiries to the Cartel members who reared their ugly mugs every now and again, and similarly, she highly doubted the hotel staff would possess any meaningful knowledge.

But routine would finally be disrupted during that day.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the elusive silver-haired geezer deigned himself to appear, rousing Koral from sleep at an unusually early hour and summoning her to the dining area while he stayed occupied in the kitchen.

Kyros was already seated at the table, though that fact came as no surprise. He was usually up and about well before she awakened, just like a chicken did at the crack of dawn.

The aroma of sizzling bacon and sausages wafted in the room, stirring Koral’s stomach into eager anticipation. While their meals were typically large and varied, there was something distinctly different about the prospect of a dish prepared by Apollo’s own hand.

And so she shot a furtive glance towards the clueless Kyros, a mischievous smile forming at the corner of her lips.

“Hey, idiot.” Koral said to the boy, emboldened by Apollo’s nearby presence. He surely must have questions about their past —just as they did about him. With the old fool within earshot, she couldn’t resist to urge to prod. “So from which hellhole did you crawl out of anyway?”

>> “Your name is super weird, you know that? Is it even real?”

Kyros frowned at Koral’s questions, his brow furrowing as he remained stubbornly silent to her teasing once the girl sat in a chair in front of him. Yet she remained undeterred, her casual smile slowly turning into a smug grin.

“There’s no point in playing dumb with me.” She pressed on, pointing at his face unabashedly. “I know you understand at least that much.”

>> “So tell me your story. You should feel honored I’m asking in the first place.”

Despite her goading, Kyros attempted to remain resolute in his silence, though Koral could sense how his defenses began to crack. With a heavy sigh, he finally relented, as if admitting defeat. She knew he didn’t have it in him to deny her.

As the words began to tumble from his lips, though, Koral felt her confidence waning.

“I… Don’t know.” He uttered, a hint of hopelessness in his voice. Perhaps if it was anyone else, such a response might have been met with her skepticism, but Koral recognized the authenticity of such despair —for she had tasted its bitterness herself. “Can’t remember.”

“You can’t remember?” She repeated, tilting her head with a worried expression. The notion of amnesia sounded like an overused trope, but in their world full of strange monsters capable of the impossible… Koral could only imagine the terror of forgetting the memories that sustained her. “There must be something in there, no?”

>> “Anything, anyone?”

The prospect of having Kirana taken away from her in such a cruel manner sent a shudder down her spine. Surely, it couldn’t be that bad.

“I remember the flower lady… But before that…” As his words trailed off into a tell-tale silence, Kyros’ gaze lowered, his rough features etched with a profound sense of loss. Pressing him further seemed cruel, so instead Koral tried to abruptly pivot into a different topic in an attempt to soothe the turmoil she had stoked.

“T… Then… How about those things? The Aethyrs?” She reached across the table, her small finger pointing at the intricate patterns tracing down his arms. “If you know their name, certainly you must have an idea of what they do?”

>> “How do they feel like? Do they hurt?”

Kyros seemed a bit startled by the sudden shift in subject, his haunted gaze lifting from the void to fixate upon the swirling patterns etched in his flesh. He hesitated, glancing briefly towards where Apollo’s back before resigning himself to respond.

“They don’t hurt.” He calmly spoke, raising the red forearm to follow their winding path with his fingertips. Seemingly responding to his touch, the shapes that stopped at the height of his wrists shifted slightly. “They feel… Warm. Breathing. Alive.”

>> “And when I focus enough… they…”

Gritting his teeth, Kyros clenched his left hand into a tight fist in preparation for an abrupt display. The crimson spirals adorning that arm suddenly erupted, flesh parting as wicked blades burst forth in jagged points. Though still looking like drawings floating in the air, the spikes also looked deadly sharp, their serrated edges propelled outwards as if from some internally driven force. They also appeared quite painful, yet no blood came out of the ruptured flesh, and Kyros showed no signs of pain —only tense concentration in his brow.

Koral flinched instinctively at the startling transformation, her eyes widening as she took in the grisly sight.

“Huh…” She murmured, her appraising gaze sweeping over the array of spikes. “Cool.”

“Can be taken out too.” Kyros said swiftly, perhaps spurred on by her evident interest. His finger traced the edge of one of the middle blades before gripping it firmly, then pulling it out with a sharp sound —like withdrawing a sword from its sheath. “Though they come back if left alone.”

True to his word, as soon as the spike slipped from his grasp, the wound closed and the blade reformed in its original position, sliding through flesh as if intangible.

“And the blue ones?” Koral pressed, leaning forward across the table. “Do they come out too? Are they shields or something?”

“No.” Kyros negated with his head, before fixing on her eye with an intense stare, locking onto it with his intense brown ones. “It’s more easy to show.”

>> “Koral… You trust me?”

The question gave her pause, her eye flicking to the arm extended towards her. For a moment she hesitated, searching for any hint of deception, before recklessly taking his palm and squeezing it —though it wasn’t exactly trust that guided her actions.

“Sure. Do your worst.” Her recklessness stemmed from a complete disregard for consequences. If he intended to betray her, better to have it happen sooner rather than later.

Though she wanted to appear brave and unflinching, doubt began building within as Kyros’ eyes slid shut in concentration. Koral felt the angular blue glyphs shift and part beneath his skin, the subtle movement raising goosebumps along her own arms. Yet she felt no tangible difference, neither pain nor physical changes as he exhaled a measured breath and released her hand, leaving a lingering sense of warmth behind.

Left somewhat mystified by the ordeal, Koral similarly retreated, stretching her fingers before her gaze to find one of the blue markings now embedded in her palm.

“What’s this about?” She questioned, studying its shape warily. It felt unsettling, like an unnatural stain marring her skin… But what did it do exactly? “Is it some sort of slow-acting poison?”

“Nothing like that.” Kyros clarified. “How to say it…”

>> “Even if apart, I now know where you are. No matter how far.”

Koral’s eye narrowed at the implication. So it served as a tracking device of sorts? A means for Kyros to keep tabs on her movements? Was that it? She couldn’t decide if the notion was slightly unnerving or just underwhelming.

“Well, what you waiting around for?” Koral pressured in a harsher voice, extending her marked palm towards him once more. “Take it away. I don’t want a weirdo like you following my every step.”

With a puff of air that felt more genuine than any of his typically muted responses, Kyros wrapped her hand between his own, and soon enough she could feel again the subtle shift of the marks beneath his fingers.

So he could do that assigning-thing as much as he felt like.

“Unlike the Withdraw ones, I have to take the blue Add Aethyrs myself.” He continued explaining, though she was somewhat beyond it by that point. “Have to be careful. They can run out.”

>> “And only return if the marked object is destroyed…” There was a weighted pause lingering in between. Was he trying to be dramatic now? “… Or in death, if it’s a person.”

Yet more than their exact functionality, Koral wondered how exactly Kyros came to know all of that. Was it mere instinct, or had he used Aethyrs that extensively before? Since he claimed not to remember his past, something Koral didn’t cast doubt on, were they ghostly remnants from a life prior to becoming a kept pet of the Cartel?

Not like she dared to voice her curiosity aloud. She had no want to probe too deeply into Kyros’ fractured recollections if it meant triggering the same sadness she had inadvertently unearthed earlier.

“Kinda lame, dont’cha think?” The girl chimed in nonchalantly, recovering her hand without any lingering sign of the blue glyph ever being there. While her tone remained light and jovial, the swirling madness lurking behind her eye wasn’t. “I can probably kill you with no problem.”

>> “My Hush is super strong, you know?”

This was the perfect moment to assert her dominance, to put Kyros’ so-called Aethyrs to shame with a display of her awesome might. Koral was confident that the mere sight of her ethereal monster would reduce the boy's markings to insignificance…

… Or so she wanted to think, but no matter how fervently she willed it, Hush refused to heed her call.

“You two are like wet-eared kids comparing new toys.” His interruption a measured intervention or not, Apollo finally joined them with an admonishing tone. Golden eyes focused squarely on Koral, as if trying to convey a silent reprimand for her earlier bravado. “Punishers are not playthings, pair of dumb brats.”

Despite the harshness of his words, Apollo’s voice lacked any real venom. He may try to act the stern, strict teacher all he wanted, but the two large plates piled high with a hearty breakfast did little to reinforce the illusion of severity. The geezer was all bark and no bite —a doting grandma at heart, no matter how gruff the exterior.

He was stupid if he thought such a feeble attempt could ever deceive her.

Not one for decorum, Koral immediately dug into her plate with ravenous enthusiasm, employing fingers more readily than any cutlery. She had waited far too long for it already, her hunger sharpened by the tantalizing aromas that had tormented her since waking.

Apollo might be a one-armed fool… But apparently he knew which end of the spoon to use.

Kyros seemed to take her unrestrained approach as an unspoken signal, mimicking her actions without hesitation as they both began devouring the generous fare. Apollo, meanwhile, lit a cigarette and attempted to hide an amused smile behind his hands as he watched the pair’s unabashed indulgence.

“You say that.” Koral retorted through a mouthful of food. “But you adults use these things like toy guns, don’t you?”

>> “Pointing them at each other no matter who gets hurt in the process.”

These were assumptions born from her harsh experiences alone, but Koral knew they carried their weight in truth. After all, what other reason could be there for her and Kyros to be treated in this manner? Their goal was clear as crystal —they wanted to mold them into living weapons.

“You’re right. I don’t intend to trick you.” Apollo conceded, his calm admission intriguing Koral. She would have expected him to take the moral high ground, as adults so often did when confronted with unpleasant realities. “But that’s not what I meant.”

>> “Punishers, you see… They all carry curses.” He continued, pausing to exhale a cloud of smoke, the gesture commanding the children to stop momentarily. “And it’s important for you two to discover and control those.”

>> “If you don’t want to end up insane, that is.”

Koral was more than ready to interject, to remark on how little she cared about any potential madness, when she already felt her grip on sanity slipping. Though before she could voice her brazen defiance to his norms, Kyros ended up being faster than her.

“I think I already know mine.” The boy said with a heavy tone, his gaze once more drifting into the empty space beneath the table, as if wrestling some unseen demons.

Yet despite such an announcement, the pause that followed quickly exhausted Koral tolerance. Why did he have to be such a drama queen?

“Well? Speak up then.” Koral demanded, tapping her fingers insistently against the table’s surface.“You think I have the whole day to sit around waiting for you.”

“Koral, you need to work on your patience.” Apollo admonished, his granny heart too soft to remain steadfast. “This might be difficult for him to put into words.”

>> “Listen brat, you don’t have to force yourself to…”

The counseling restraint died on the old man’s lips as Kyros’ hands began to move. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he reached for the hem of his shirt as he raised it, leading Koral to give out a nervous scoff.

The girl’s eyes widened as Kyros hands began to move between the old man’s words. Slowly and hesitantly, he reached for the hem of his shirt to raise it, leading Koral to give out a nervous scoff.

“Is this curse of yours related to exhibitionism or somet—“

Mockery that withered abruptly as the fabrics revealed an atrocious sight —thick markings that looked nothing alike the ethereal Aethyrs on his arms, and way more like painfully embedded wounds, poorly scarred on his frame.

The patterns were caved deep into his flesh, twisting grotesquely across his torso in three distinct, jagged shapes similar to crescent semi-circles. Unlike the vibrant glyphs of red and blue, these black brands appeared lifeless and inert, yet their sheer size and horrific distortion of his skin made Koral divert her gaze involuntarily.

“Can’t control these. Named Stone Aethyrs.” Kyros began, his fingertips tracing the awful etchings marring his torso with an air of detached familiarity. Even Apollo maintained a respectful silence, akin to a solemn understanding. Meanwhile, she could barely even bring herself to watch. “But… I remember there being more.”

>> “I’m missing them… Just like my past.”

His haunted gaze lifted to meet Apollo's, the unspoken question lingering in the space between them. The old man's features hardened, his mouth setting into a grim line as he exhaled a plume of smoke. For a few tense moments, the only sound was the smoldering tip of his cigarette.

“I heard that you had a limit on how many Aethyrs you could assign.” Apollo finally spoke, his eyes narrowing as he analyzed the boy intently. So he had been prying their conversation, just like she expected him to. “How many of those blue and red ones do you have?”

True enough, the arm markings kind of blended together, so Koral hadn’t bothered to count their exact number. Now her curiosity was piqued.

“Ten.” Kyros remarked. Spreading his fingers in a visual representation of the digit. The simple motion caused his shirt to fall back into place, mercifully enough.

“So if we assume that those black ones are the same as the others… There are seven that had been taken from you.” Apollo mused, his expression growing pensive as the implications sank in.

Koral couldn’t shake the feeling that the old man knew more than he let on, pushing on her nerves whether that ignorance was feigned or not. Well, if he wanted to play coy, she knew just how to force his hand.

“What is Sunshine Recorder’s curse, Apollo?” Koral turned the attention towards him with an inquisitive look. “Kyros showed you his ugly scars, so might as well return the favor, no?”

Her tone carried a note of defiant challenge, daring the old man to maintain such hypocrisy in the face of her boldness. If he expected them to bare their souls, it was only fair that he extended the same courtesy.

This was the moment in which she anticipated Apollo to backpedal, casting his mistrust upon them by withholding information about his potential weaknesses and capabilities.

Yet once again, the old man defied her expectations in a manner that left her reeling.

“You’ve seen it, my Punisher can store and fire concentrated sunlight.” Apollo began without a hint of reluctance, like this was the most natural of subjects to discuss. “So much that it can scorch a human body at a mere touch.”

>> “And regarding my curse… Well, it’s a very hungry bird. It saps away whatever warmth I’m able to feel.”

As if to illustrate his point, Apollo extended his hand towards the center of the table, palm upturned in an unspoken invitation. Koral, though, had no need for the experiment. The chill that seemed to emanate from his very being, the layers of clothing he wore despite the oppressive heat —it all made sense. She perceived no lie.

Kyros was different, though, reaching for his hand eagerly in a gesture that was almost endearing… If she didn’t think of it as revolting instead.

“It’s usually more active during the day, and it never reaches the point in which I start to freeze.” Apollo continued, way past the point that Koral even asked for. “Recorder doesn’t want me to die. Just to suffer and be miserable.”

>> “By consequence, its abilities during the night are also…”

“Wait a second! Why are you telling us so much!?” Koral couldn’t contain herself any longer, her interruption bursting forth in an outburst fueled by disbelief and indignation. Sure enough, he could still be lying… But her young mind didn’t immediately stop to consider the possibility. “Isn’t that stupidly dangerous!?”

>> “Didn’t you tell me to never put your life in the hands of others!?”

There was a measured silence that fell over the old man as he extinguished his half-consumed cigarette on a nearby tray, a flicker of ash trailing in the air. Koral’s scrutinized the geezer's expression deeply, desperately searching for any hint of deception or manipulation beneath the surface…

Yet try as she might, she failed to uncover even the faintest trace of ill intent.

“As long as you’re under my care, I want you two to consider each other as family.” Apollo said, his voice carrying a solemn weight. The proposition made Koral feel sick in her stomach, her defenses immediately rising. “And while I can’t force you to view me in the same light…”

>> “If it ever comes down to a life or death situation, then knowing my limits will hopefully aid you to make the right choice.” While he spoke, the old man appeared… Sad, as if he were mourning something precious that Koral had yet to know. “The one that prioritizes your survival.”

>> “This world is cruel and unforgiving. Having someone else to depend on, a sibling bound by more than just blood, who will stand by your side no matter the odds or situation…”

>> “That could mean the difference between leading a life worth living or succumbing to a pointless, meaningless death.”

While it carried a heartfelt earnestness that made it hard for Koral to simply dismiss it, the grandiloquent speech slowly kindled a burning anger within her. Her teeth ground together, frustration mounting as her fists clenched beneath the table.

Koral didn’t need a brother, nor did she require such a lousy excuse for a father. She already had a sister, and neither of these two strangers could ever hope to replace her.

“I will never see you as my family.” The girl eventually spat out, her voice laced with poison. “I’m not going to forget, Apollo.”

>> “You can play the saint all you want… But you’re also responsible for my sister’s death.” Her tone almost wavered, but the constant pain in her chest was stronger, making her voice rise with each word instead. “You were there! You’re strong!”

>> “So why didn’t you save her!?”

It wasn’t good, she could barely contain her tears anymore. The room felt so suffocating… Yet she refused to let that weakness show —not in front of Kyros. Her nails dug into her palms enough to make them hurt, a sensation that kept Koral grounded in the moment.

Whether she had caught him red-handed in his false virtue or not, Apollo remained silent at first, his golden eyes growing dull as if to reflect a turmoil he tried very fiercely to keep concealed. But she was sure the stoic mask slipped ever so slightly, evidenced by an almost imperceptible sigh.

For a moment, the room was silent, the only sound being the distant hum of the city outside… A constant reminder of how little it cared to move on without them —blind to her suffering.

However, after gathering his resolve with a deep inhalation, Apollo’s shoulders rose to recover his posture. When he finally looked at her again, his gaze was unflinching, steady. He met her anger head-on, not with the cold detachment she awaited, refusing to turn away from her accusations.

Why?… Why did he refuse to just give up on her?

“I think I’d be satisfied if you were the one to bring me to justice.” Such a remark from him only served to stoke her anger. This wasn’t about justice at all! How could he not get it!? “But as of this moment, you’re not even capable of controlling your Hush, much less laying a finger on me.”

>> “Look at Kyros, for example. You looked down on him, yet he’s miles ahead of you. He knows what his Punisher does at large, unlike you.”

>> “He already has a vague idea of what his curse is, unlike you.”

>> “And while it’s yet to be immediate, the Aethyrs do obey his instructions. Very unlike you.”

The relentless verbal assault made Koral’s eyebrow twitch. Was he aware that she had tried, and failed, to manifest Hush a while ago?

“Good for him. So what?” She sarcastically argued, not really one to stay silent and receptive for long periods. “He’s still a loser who doesn’t even know how to switch TV channels.”

Her jab was met with an immediate response from Kyros, who broke his silence with surprising vehemence.

“Don’t say that! I know how that’s done!” Kyros clapped back, breaking his silence up to that point. Was he feeling more comfortable around them, or did he simply want them to stop fighting? “All I need to do is ask a very grumpy girl and she does it for me!”

Whether it was a reaction from the boy’s idiotic attempt at an argument, or how Koral stuck her tongue in his direction with a flip of her middle finger, Apollo’s laughter traveled faintly across the room —a gesture that he seemingly couldn’t hold back.

“You brats are too much.” He commented, regarding them with a contented smile that irked her, for how genuine it appeared. “Well, it’s good that you feel so offended.”

>> “But I’d advise to save that sentiment for the rest of today.”

A brief pause while he stood up made both their gazes drift onto him, with Apollo’s golden eyes taking on a resolute edge.

“From this moment forward, I will forge you into individuals who never allow anyone to freely trample over them, to give you the tools to stand firm and make your own choices.” His words seemed to reverberate faintly in the confines of the hotel suite, carrying a promise that resonated deep within Koral, regardless of her doubts. “Not just to stay alive…”

>> “What I want is for you two to become whatever you aspire yourselves to be.”