The world was a bright white. From the skies to the lands, everything was painted white. Every blade of grass that swayed with the calm breeze was a blank canvas, or a clean brush waiting for the paint or ink. But it will never come. Not in this world, never. Even the sounds of nature seemed muffled, almost as though they were not meant to be heard. At some point, everything would just blur into a deafening silence.
The mind cast into this most desolate prison had lingered for countless years. It no longer even remembered what the world outside looked like. It had remained in place, not wanting to further drain itself... or perhaps it was just tired of resisting, of struggling to remain existing. At this point, it was not even thinking of anything at all. The mind was completely blank just as the world around it. At some point, it no longer seemed distinct. Despite being the only sentient living thing present, it might as well just be another pebble on the roadside, a part of the landscape.
It has been countless years since it had be imprisoned. And after an indeterminate amount of time, finally a change occurred in the seemingly unchanging scenery. In front of the imprisoned one, a drop of paint flashed a beautiful cerulean hue. It spread in magnificent sparks as a hole seemingly opened from the very fabric of space. Through the opened portal, a man dressed in valiant full-body bronzen armour stepped out. The man's face was hidden beneath his helm, but his gaze locked onto the lone prisoner of this most horrid of Forbidden Gaols.
Confirming the presence of the prisoner, the man nodded before raising the scroll in his hand. Unfurling it and revealing its contents to the prisoner who was not even looking at it or him, the man proceeded reciting the message he was meant to announce. But even before he began speaking, the unfurled scroll seemed to emanate an inviolable power that spread to the surroundings, revealing the invisible chains that bound the prisoner in place. One by one, the chains were shattered as the man spoke.
"By imperial decree, Prince Chrysos of the Divine Noblesse is hereby released from solitary confinement. However, due to not having served his sentence of a hundred cycles, he will be sent to the front lines to fight in the war. His deployment is effective immediately and he may only return after achieving enough merits."
An imperial decree issued by the Divine Noblesse Court, it was the greatest lie one could ever have heard. The prisoner, Prince Chrysos, was well aware that he had already served his sentence more than twice over. He had counted. Ever second of every minute of every hour of every day, he counted. A single cycle was more than five lifetimes of an ordinary human, and he had to serve a hundred of them in isolation. But still he counted. Even after passing a hundred cycles, he still continued counting. Even when he knew that Freedom would no longer come, he still counted. And now, the imperial warden had come acting as though he was delivering a grand gift.
Prince Chrysos knew there was no Freedom. Being sent to the frontlines was a mere pretext. He was meant to die in battle, but should he survive, he still would never be able to accumulate the merits he needed to obtain Freedom. After all, for all he knew, 'enough merits' was equivalent to destroying an entire universe. He wondered if they had grown tired of him. They often say that beating a dead horse was no fun. Was that the case here? Perhaps that was so, for as long as he had lived, he had never once fought back. He accepted everything, not intending to fight for the throne or to make enemies of his siblings. But by virtue of his blood, Freedom would elude him always.
He was a member of the divine race of Noblesse, destined to rule the universe. And yet he was also a human, destined to be slaves and rebels. With tainted blood, he endured years of torment. His mother's teachings had made him a patient and tolerant man, striving for peace in the comfort of faith. But as always, Freedom eluded him. When his mother died in a brutal accident that was not even subtly covered up, he was then sent into this Forbidden Gaol, accused of high treason. But since he was a prince, a son of the Divine Noblesse Emperor, he was not executed. Now, they were letting him out.
Prince Chrysos stood up, his movements sluggish after literal eons of unmoving silence. His maddened peace was broken. The chains that both shackled and supported him had shattered. He was free to move, but Freedom still was not his. He nodded in silent acknowledgement of the imperial decree. He could not go against it. He himself lacked any power whatsoever. All that sustained him in his isolation was faith and peace. And now, he would have to leave.
The imperial warden, seeing that the forbidden royal was cooperating well, was a little annoyed. He too was a noblesse. He too harbored great disdain for this half-blood monstrosity whose mere existence soils the divine sanctity of their race. He wanted to torture this prince so bad that he could barely hold himself back. He calmed himself down by remembering his mission. He was to escort the forbidden royal to the frontlines, and thus he was not allowed to even touch him. With a click of his tongue, he turned around and led the way without any other word.
Chrysos followed the imperial warden, stepping through the cerulean portal and finally leaving the Forbidden Gaol. The moment he exited the Forbidden Gaol, a flood of colours flushed through his entire being. His body convulsed, making him fall to the ground from the sheer amount of stimulation he was receiving. His mind was being flooded with so many things that he could feel it cracking. His heart pounded as he wondered if his End had finally come. Unfortunately for him, it had not. His body soon calmed down, and although he was left in a weakened state, he was safe.
"Get up, slave! Enter the portal and begin your service!"
Seeing the opportunity, the imperial warden kicked Chrysos, making him roll across the ground. He would be pardoned for just one hit, right? After all, he was only disciplining the insubordinate prisoner. Chrysos coughed out golden blood as he tried to get back up. His whole body was weak, deprived of any strength from countless cycles of starvation. He raised his head to see another portal just ahead of him. This one was made of a sandy yellow light that seemed foreign to this place. But he did not have the Freedom to even ask where it would lead him to. He walked up to it, and just as he was about to step in, he felt a strong force send him tumbling into it.
The imperial warden chuckled as he brought his foot down, evidently enjoying finally venting his frustrations on the half-blood. With his mission complete, he took the device hanging from his waist and pressed a button. The two portals then began closing, but just before they both completely closed, a flash of white erupted from the portal leading to the Forbidden Gaol. The imperial warden did not even have time to scream before he was swallowed by the white which then disappeared into the other portal. The two portals closed shut, forever sealed. And in the place of the imperial warden was a strange and unnatural white patch in space.
On the other side of the yellow portal, Chrysos fell to the ground once more. This time, the ground was covered in a tick layer of snow, the cold seeping into his feeble body, leaving him wishing for death. But at that moment, a flash of white emerged from the closing portal behind him and latched onto his body, protecting him from the extreme cold. Chrysos did not seem surprised about the appearance of this whiteness at all. Instead, he felt comfortable as though he had returned to that prison, the vast landscape of pure white.
To others, it was hell beyond compare, a Forbidden Gaol. But to him, it was his greatest solace, his sole companion in countless cycles. And it seems, he was not the only one who thought so. With the help of whiteness that covered his body, Chrysos stood up, no longer feeling the cold or anything at all. Just like in the white landscape, his body was freed from all stimuli. He brushed his long golden hair back so as not to obscure his vision, but he realised it was pointless. The blizzard would not let him see anything. Without any knowledge of where he was or where he was supposed to go, Chrysos just chose a random direction and walked. Whatever awaited him, he would leave it all to Fate. And to his companion, he smiled.
"Thank you for coming with me, Pax."
[A loyal follower heeds your call: Pax, The Mad]