62Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBLE2oIpF83CHAPTER 10
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THE CAVE OF MERCY
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Metro clings to the high branch like a shadow stitched into the bark.
His brown hood blends with the trunk, his breath shallow, his fingers numb from gripping the limb for so long. Below him, the forest floor sways with wind and insects, but Sally is nowhere near — she's slips deep into the brush, hidden so well that even Metro can barely sense her.
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Daylight passes.
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Then night.
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Then daylight again.
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Metro stays put.
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He doesn't sleep.
He doesn't move.
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His eyes burn. His stomach is twisting. His mind drifts in and out of half‑dreams, but his body stays locked in place, clinging to the tree like a starving bear too weak to climb down.
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Metro’s eyelids droop as he clings to the high branch, his fingers numb, his breath shallow. Sleep fights him like a tide pulling at his mind. He blinks hard, trying to stay awake — but the world tilts, blurs, and then—
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The forest vanishes.
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He's somewhere else.
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Somewhere horrific .
---
Metro stands on cracked black stone. The sky above him is churned red.
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Theron’s eyes burn like coals, black and red, flickering with a fire that isn't holy.
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Metro senses a crowd around him.
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Theron stares directly at Metro.
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Not blinking.
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Just watching.
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Metro feels the wrath in his bones.
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The vision snaps—
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***He jerks awake in the tree, gasping, gripping the branch so hard his fingers ache.
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His heart pounds.
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His vision clouds.
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He doesn't know if he's dreamed it. Envisioned it.
Or lived it.
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He doesn’t know what's real anymore.
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He feels like he's losing it.
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Then— Horse Hooves.
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Armor.
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Voices.
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Metro’s spirit snaps awake.
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Theron’s knights ride up the path toward his cottage, their armor clinking, their horses snorting clouds into the morning air. Metro presses himself against the trunk, holding the branch so tight his knuckles whiten beneath the gloves.
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He watches through the leaves.
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The knights don't search or call his name. They simply dismount, walking to his mailbox, and slide something inside — a rolled parchment sealed in deep royal purple.
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Then they mount again and ride off, their horses kicking dust into the sunlight.
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Metro stays still, scoping out the situation until the last hoofbeat fades.
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Only then does he inhale.
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He climbs down the tree like a starving animal — clumsy, shaking, desperate. Halfway down his foot slips. He drops the last few feet and hits the ground flat on his back, the breath knocks out of him.
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He lays there, staring at the sky, too exhausted to care.
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A soft sound breaks the silence.
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Sally.
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She trots out from the deep brush, ears forward, tail flicking, her presence grounds him like a hand on his shoulder.
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Metro forces himself up, staggering toward the mailbox.
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He opens it.
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A single parchment lays inside, rolled tight, sealed with the Great City’s purple wax — the color of authority, judgment, and final decisions.
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His heart stops.
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He mounts Sally, looking down at the note.
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Metro:
“There, girl…”
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He breaks the seal with his thumb.
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He reads.
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***So let the gods do to me, and far worse besides, if I do not make your life as the life of the priests you’ve slain — before winter arrives.
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— Priestess Jezebel***
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Scene fades.
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and then Add to home screen.