who doesn’t even bother to turn around to make sure I’m following him. Whatever Storm said to him earlier, it must have shaken him up pretty well. We must climb hundreds of steps, passing dozens of ledges with bridges as we go, as well as a few people who don’t make eye contact with me. They all look powerful and intimidating, and I wonder what their crimes - or perceived crimes, anyway - could be. By the time Coxen comes to a stop on a narrow stone landing, I’m thoroughly out of breath, and I have to sag against one of the cold stone walls as I catch my breath. Coxen waits for me, not saying anything.
"So," I say breathlessly, wanting to break the awkward silence and give him something other than my gasping to listen to, "what did you do to get locked up in here?"
“Me?” Coxen shakes his head. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Right,” I say. “Sure. I guess everyone in here must think they’re innocent, right?”
“What?” His brow furrows. “No, I mean… I literally didn’t do anything. My mum was the one who was locked up, not me. I…” He clears his throat, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “I was born in here eighteen years ago. I didn’t do anything, but I pay the price anyway.”
My eyes widen, my mouth dropping open in spite of myself. “Are you saying you’ve never been outside this prison before?”
Coxen nods reluctantly, a slightly pained expression appearing on his face. “This place is all I’ve ever known,” he replies, looking down at the floor as he waits for me to get my breath back. “I’ve never even seen the outside before. The only reason I know anything about the outside world is because the other prisoners have taught me about it.” I straighten up and open my mouth to speak, but he holds up a hand to keep me quiet. “And before you ask,” he says, “I don’t know what my mum did to end up in here.”
“Do you mean she…?” I begin, not wanting to finish the question.
Coxen nods grimly. “She died in childbirth, like a lot of people in here do. We don’t have doctors or skilled healers, so we have to manage on our own, and unless we’re lucky enough to end up with someone who has healing magic, then there isn’t much we can do to help injured prisoners. The higher gods would rather just lock us up here and never think about us again.” He shakes his head, swallowing hard before clearing his throat. “The other prisoners brought me up. They taught me how to read, how to use my powers… I owe them everything. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve never once been outside these walls.”
"That's a shitty deal for you,” I say, my voice suddenly small. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” Coxen replies, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s just the hand I’ve been dealt, I guess.”
I bite my lip as I think about the implications of this. I remember the children I saw playing on my way in, and I can feel my heart sink. At the time, the significance of that observation didn’t dawn on me, but now it makes a terrible sort of sense. “How many people are born here?” I ask him. “I saw children on my way in.”
A flicker of sadness crosses Coxen’s face, and I’m starting to realise how much of a bad deal some of these people have gotten. Are the higher gods even aware of what’s happening in here? This isn’t justice, and it’s certainly not ethical. What would the higher gods do if they found out children were being born in here, kept in here for their entire lives? This isn’t the purpose of this prison, of that much I’m sure. I would like to think the other gods would protest to get the children out of here if they knew, but then again, what do I know? It’s obvious that the higher gods don’t care about what’s fair. Still, that doesn’t change the fact that this is a terrible fate for anyone.
"Most of the people alive in here now were born here,” Coxen replies, running a hand through his silver hair.
My eyes go wide. “Really?”
He nods grimly. “The monster below kills anyone who truly deserves to be in here,” he explains, “and Storm makes sure everyone takes the test.” I blink in surprise, unable to think of a response. I hadn’t even thought about that, but it