The light pierced his eyes. He recoiled and rolled out of the water. Hands pressed tight, he cried, “Forgive me! Jur have mercy!”
He squinted through his fingers, longing to see. The light was too intense, god’s wrath upon him. The ground thrummed, heavy steps closing in. His screams answered. #SiP

Kru cried, falling into the water. His body was too numb to feel it, his mind too lost. The cursed gods had done this. He sank, head felling back, he screamed, “If only I had light! Damn you all!” He lay there, wishing for it. Praying for it.

The gods, who never answered prayers, finally did. #SiP

A way out? He grinned, he laughed, it was right here; hidden by the water. Plunging his hands back into the water, he examined the hole. Feeling its edges, pulling them, pushing deeper, this had to be it! His heart sank. His smile turned to weeping. It was too small, the size of his hands. No. #SiP

Each inch, he crawled through the numbing cold. It wasn’t like searching the walls, where he could construct an image in his mind. Here, details were lost, leaving vague images. His hands hit a rock, then a crack, and then a hole. Pulling his hands free, he flexed his fingers. Could this be it? #SiP

A splash sounded in his ear. Kru crawled to the edge; the water, icy and relentless, he feared it. He was soaked. He longed for warmth before searching, but there was nowhere else. No other place. He would control his mind, conquer the cold, find the portal, and the whisper. He pushed in. #SiP

Laughter filled the cell, echoing, raising in volume. Kru held his ears and pressed hard. Curled on the ground, yelling back, it was a battle of sounds that he lost. His throat raw, he stopped and the silence hit him like a blow. His hands slip, with faint words coming to him: "I'll be back." #SiP

The whisper returned. He turned his head in the dark, seeking, but it was all around him. It said, "What know you of Jur? Jur the Maker. Jur the Builder. Jur the God. What could one such as you know about one such as him?”
“Jur the–mad,” Kru whispered back. “His machines will destroy us all.” #SiP

“I will not!” Kru yelled. “I will save us, Jur… Jur is the problem. Please, I need food.”
He slumped on the floor, his head falling back against the bed shelf. His body quivered from the cold. He shoved his hands into his pits, his legs pulled to his chest, muscles straining from the exertion. #SiP

Giggling echoed, "I've got bread, Your bread!"
"Please!" Kru's screamed, "I need food for my work."
"Work? What work can you do here?" The voice's octave dropped, tone sharp and flat. "You're here to die like the others." Laughter filled the cell. Kru chased it, but it was like catching the wind. #SiP