2 The Flower and the Lion (2)

She couldn't sleep.

As she sat cross-legged on her bed with her covers wrapped around her shoulders, 373 could vaguely hear the even breathes of the girls sleeping in the beds around her. After her encounter with the amber haired male, she found herself restless and jittery. It had been two hours since the adults had turned off the lights. And yet here she was with eyes wide open, zero fatigue, insomnia and disheveled hair. Every time she remembered the boy who had multi-colored eyes, she felt warm and oddly jittery. 373 had heard the older children talk about something similar – about hearts beating faster and emotions getting wilder. But the gossiping girls were thirteen years old or older and she was eight. The age gap was too big and she just couldn't relate. Maybe this was one of the things she was supposed to understand once she got older?

She placed her hands on her face. Her cheeks felt hot. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly in what their teachers called a 'sigh'.

'If I can't sleep, I might as well make the most of it', she thought. In a few seconds, she yanked the covers off her petite figure, placed them over her pillow, and muttered a spell under her breath.

'Transfiguro.'

Her energy covered her bed and in a moment, the pillow and covers changed into an illusion of her sleeping quietly. Her movements were quiet, connected and graceful – it was proof that she had done this many times before. She ignored the shoes that were placed under her bed as they made too much noise. She pulled a piece of paper and a pencil from her bag and stuffed it in her pocket. She quietly slipped down her bed and left the room completely barefoot with nothing but a light blue nightdress covering her.

The corridors were faintly lit with small flat circular bulbs that glowed in a subtle orange color. The doors of the entire floor had been closed with a metal lock, except for the door to the children's rooms and the door to the canteen. 373 closed here eyes and unleashed her Talent to cover the area around her. If someone was approaching her, she would hear their thoughts and immediately hide in the shadows using a concealing spell. She walked along the dark hallways while taking note of her surroundings. Her hands drew the pathways and rooms she had passed. In a few minutes, she had a makeshift map of the places she had visited. She studied her sketch and shook her head.

'There are no exits. Or at least, I couldn't see any', she concluded. She had taken half an hour at most. And yet, she had managed to cover the entire floor. All the places she had visited were the places all the children were allowed to visit. There was nothing else except the thick white walls had caged the entire building. Or at least it seemed that way.

373 looked up from the piece of paper and stared at the wall that was in front of her. She was at a dead end. Her map told her there was nowhere else she could go and that the only thing she should do was head back and go to sleep. However, there was a nagging feeling in her head that was telling her to touch the white wall, to feel beyond the concrete, to see if something lied behind the thick walls of Elisium.

She hesitated, her hand stopping just a few millimeters away from the cold white surface of the wall. Did she really need to do this? As long as she stayed in the middle of the class – as long as she stayed uninteresting, the adults wouldn't harm her.

She knew that Elisium's paradise was nothing but a fake. But did an eight year old child really have to uncover the truth behind Elisium's walls? Shouldn't she at least follow the age-old adage 'Ignorance is Bliss' and stay away from complications?

'Contentus es vere iustus est, pueri?'

373 turned around and scanned the hallway, her eyes narrowing as she gazed at the empty space in front of her. The voice that spoke was melodic yet mysterious and seemed to speak directly into her head. Although she knew the words were from the same language as the words that made up spells and chants, they were words she had never heard before this day. And yet, she understood what the words meant and what the voice was asking. The owner of the voice had completely seen through her and her personality.

'Are you truly content with just that, child?'

Her back straightened.

She wasn't.

It was the same with spells and alchemy: she never settled for what she knew. Her thirst to know more had always been insatiable. Her curiosity had always been unsatisfiable. She had barely scratched the surface of Elisium's lie, had barely seen the truth. And her only reason for looking for the truth was simple: it was because the truth existed. So what if curiosity killed the cat? 373 she wasn't that easy to kill.

The little girl faced the wall in front of her and thought back to the voice. The speaker wasn't near her and she couldn't sense anyone approaching her or hiding behind the shadows. The speaker and the truth was in a place that was beyond the hallways where she was. If she wanted answers to her questions, if she wanted to know more, the only way to go was forward.

'It'll be fine as long as I'm careful,' 373 thought. She closed her eyes and gathered her energy. As a precaution, she spread a film of energy around her body, and cast a single spell.

'Celare.'

A thin glow enveloped her fingertips and slowly blanketed around the rest of her body. As the light faded, her body began to change. In the faint lighting, she could see the light passing through her hands until her hand turned completely transparent. Her entire body followed suit. As long as she could maintain the spell, light would continue to pass through her and no human would be able to see her.

Her hand found the wall in front of her and 373 lightly grazed the even and cold surface. Energy gathered on her fingertips and her hand stayed still as light blue wisps and spread and formed a circle. With a flick of her finger, the blue wisps extended, flowed into the wall and slowly tore the wall inch by inch until there was a hole big enough to let a child to pass through. Light shone from the other side of the wall and piqued up 373's interest. She crouched and made her way in. And before she could forget, she returned the wall to the way it was before.

What she saw on the other side of the thick almost impenetrable walls almost made her gasp. Her eyes widened as her pulse quickened. There were no domineering walls and there were all kinds of sounds echoing from the walls. A mechanical voice was calling names and numbers. There was whirring. There were even clicks and crackles of static. She placed her hand against the wall and felt something beneath her hands vibrating and churning. It was almost like the building was alive.

The biggest difference between the Elisium she had known and the place right in front of her were the people : there were many adults in white coats and many faces she had never seen before. But unlike their teachers who spoke in simple terms, the white coated people were saying a lot of complicated things – some of which she had only read about in the books she had taken from the library.

It was really a whole new world! 373 couldn't help but stare at the machines and metal doors. Every time she heard something new, she would unconsciously stop to listen in on the conversations. She was still careful and kept herself from bumping into things or people. But her legs were moving on their own accord and the hesitant girl who stood on the other side of the wall had disappeared.

Before long, she found herself in a room that was more brightly lit and wider than all the other rooms. The ceiling was higher, the placement of equipment messier. There were countless of metal boxes. On the floor, wires crisscrossed and formed an intricate and multi-colored web. Her black orbs followed the wires to bed posts. There were no sheets, no bed covers, no pillows. But the numbers were still there. And the children which used to lie on those beds were firmly strapped to the bed's metal frame while the adults in white coats pricked, prodded, cut and experimented on them mercilessly.

373 hid behind a stack of wooded boxes, her hand on her mouth. She felt bile churning in her gut. She wanted to puke and git rid of the acid that was burning in her throat. But she gulped everything back down and made no sound. She went deeper into the shadows, far from the prying eyes of scientists, and her body slowly became visible. Her eyes were no longer bright and curious. Her black orbs turned cold as she studied the place methodically.

She recognized some of the children on the table. Some of them had become corpses and yet the adults were staring at their bare bodies with calm yet intense gazes. Those who were dead were probably lucky. As for those who lived … 373 didn't even want to think about it.

Suddenly, a howl erupted from somewhere in the room and all the white coats stared at a certain place in the room. The little girl followed their gazes. On a particularly distant area, a boy with dirty honey-colored hair yelled as he shot a menacing glare towards the adults that surrounded him. Although his hands and feet were bound and tied to four metallic rods that were mounted on the wall, he was still struggling with all that he had. Although his hair was unkempt and his face was covered in soot, there were no scars on his flesh.

In front of the boy was a man holding what looked like an iron rod with a dark brown handle. The rod was connected to a very thick black wire that ran through the metal cases and tables and was attached to a gigantic monolith that hummed and surged with power. The man holding on the the rod pressed something on the handle. The exposed iron glinted and released sparks of electricity. Inch by inch, the rod approached the male's abdomen. The closer the metal was to the golden-haired boy's body, the more the youth squirmed and growled. 373 watched as the rod slowly made its way towards the boy's stomach.

Static danced on the metal. Iron made contact with skin.

And ear-splitting scream echoed in the room.

373 ducked behind a set of wooden crates and closed her eyes.

She held her breath for what felt like an eternity. Her heart quickened its pace in her chest as she counted the seconds that passed by. When the boy's voice died down, she gathered her courage and took another peek. A part of his skin was charred and burnt. As soon as she focused on the dark patch of flesh, 373's eyes widened. As the minutes passed, the burned marks slowly became fainter and his wound began to close. The white coated people only scrutinized his flesh with cold calculating glances and jotted down something on the sheets of paper that they were carrying. Their voices were oddly upbeat and jolly – like the dying children had no place in their eyes.

A man with hair the color of steel raised his hands and the voices automatically died down. When he spoke, his voice was deep and icy and sent shivers down 373's spine.

"Increase the voltage."

He gestured towards one of the other scientists. The small female snapped out from her reverie. A plan quickly formed in her head. She steadied her nerves and concentrated on her hand. The middle of her palm grew warm and static danced on her hand. She eyed the tangled wires on the floor, and the sparks on her hand danced furiously as she grabbed the nearest wire and muttered, 'Fulmen.'

Lightning was released from her hand and ran through the wire that she was holding in a split second. The sparks scattered to the rest of the wires that crisscrossed on the floor. The bolt shot out of multiple directions and the irregular surge of energy made the wires dance. Equipment malfunctioned. The lights turned off. There were sounds of light bulbs bursting, of fire cackling. Shoes pounded on the floor, voices rang out in panic. In the middle of the chaos, 373 lifted her head and tried to look for a good place to make her exit.

In the middle of the darkness, her gaze met with someone else's. Blue marble-like eyes in a lovely shade of azure stared back at her both with bewilderment and shock. Unruly yellow hair framed his orbs that remained clear even in the darkness. To anyone else, the boy made a sorry picture. But to 373 he was proud, wild and unrestricted: just like the king of the Jungle.

Just like a Lion in the picture books.