Escape from Ardnafall Prison

Ardnafall Prison clung to the cliffside like a dark scab on the coast. The sea crashed below, churning foam into the black rocks, and the salt spray hung heavy in the air, carrying a stench of rot and rust. Guards led me through the iron gates, their rough hands prodding me forward. “Keep yer eyes down, Zimmerman,” one of them grunted, his words as sharp as the icy wind off the sea.

Inside, the prison yard opened up, flanked by walls as thick and grey as an ancient fortress. The air here was colder, as if the prison drew in the chill and refused to let it go. Men were scattered around, silent, watching from beneath heavy brows, their eyes empty of hope, empty of anything but survival.

I’d prepared for this moment, braced myself for what Ardnafall might demand. I was here for one reason, sent by Cetera, my handler at the agency. He’d told me Ardnafall was a graveyard for men’s souls, but he didn’t warn me of the cost it would demand from those sent to uncover its secrets. Cetera had given me the cover, the backstory, the keys to this nightmare, and with one look, he made it clear I wouldn’t be coming back until I’d found it.

It took two days to find Hudson in the yard. I spotted him across the stretch of cracked earth, his back hunched, hands jammed in his pockets as he stared at the ground. He looked older, worn down by the months he’d spent here, but the hard line of his jaw and the glint in his eye were as sharp as ever.

We spoke in low whispers, our eyes on the guards as they circled the yard.

“Ye’ve no business bein’ here, Callum,” he said, his voice barely above a breath, his gaze flicking nervously to the nearby guards.

“Could say the same to ye,” I muttered, glancing sideways. “But I came for ye, Hudson. And for the ledger.”

Hudson’s face went pale, his mouth tightening. “They keep it in the south wing, deep in the tunnels. Ain’t no one meant to go down there. Those who try…” He trailed off, the fear in his eyes more potent than any words he could have spoken.

I swallowed, trying to keep my nerves steady. “Tell me about the ledger.”

Hudson’s gaze drifted to the south wing, his eyes clouded. “It’s a record of every man who’s come through Ardnafall. Names, dates, destinations… and the ones who disappear. They erase men, Callum, and they’ve been doing it for decades.”

I’d heard rumors like this before, in the agency halls, of high-level prisoners and officials disappearing off the grid. Cetera had believed there was a method to the madness, something powerful that kept Ardnafall going and erased the evidence of men like Hudson. This ledger, he’d told me, was my way in—my way of showing him and the agency that Ardnafall was more than just a prison, that it was a machine hiding something deeper.

I nodded, keeping my voice steady. “I’ll find it, Hudson. And I’ll get us both out.”

On the third night, I made my move. Hudson had slipped me a key he’d lifted off a guard, and as the bell tolled for lights-out, I slipped from my cell and crept down the corridor. The south wing was darker, colder, as if the very walls were waiting to swallow me whole. The air reeked of mold and something sharper, a metallic tang that set my teeth on edge.

The door to the tunnels was old, its lock stiff from years of disuse. It groaned as I pushed it open, and the darkness inside yawned like an open grave. I flicked on my flashlight, its weak beam slicing through the gloom.

The walls were lined with strange carvings—names, dates, crude etchings made by hands long gone. I passed by cell doors rusted shut, empty chambers filled with nothing but dust and shadows.

A faint whisper echoed down the corridor, and I froze, my breath caught in my throat. It was only the wind, I told myself. But the hair on the back of my neck prickled, and the air seemed to thicken, pressing down on me as I moved deeper into the dark.

I hadn’t gone far when a voice slid out of the shadows.

“Yer a bold one, Zimmerman.”

McRae. He was a wiry man with a foxlike face, his eyes always scanning, always scheming. I’d noticed him watching me since I arrived, slipping in and out of shadows like he belonged to them.

“What’s it to ye, McRae?” I asked, keeping my voice steady, though my pulse hammered beneath the calm.

He gave me a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “A man doesn’t wander the south wing for fun. Yer after somethin’. And I reckon I can help—if ye’ve got somethin’ in return.”

My mind raced, weighing options. McRae had a reputation in Ardnafall, and I wasn’t fool enough to think he’d help me out of the goodness of his heart. But he knew this place, knew its secrets, and I couldn’t risk going in blind.

“What do ye want?” I asked, meeting his gaze head-on.

“Get me out of here,” he said, his voice a rasp in the quiet. “An escape plan, a way off this rock—and I’ll make sure ye live long enough to find what ye’re after.”

I hesitated, the weight of the deal settling heavy on my chest. But I needed him, and if there was any chance of finding that ledger, I’d take it.

“Deal.”

He nodded, satisfied, and turned, leading me deeper into the tunnels, his footsteps echoing in the silence. The air grew colder, damper, the walls closing in as we wound through the maze of stone and darkness. The sound of dripping water was the only thing that broke the silence, but beneath it, I could feel something else—a weight, a pressure that seemed to press in from all sides, as if the very walls were watching us.

We reached a low-ceilinged chamber, and there, on a table covered in dust and cobwebs, lay the ledger. The book was thick, its leather cover cracked and worn, its pages yellowed with age. I reached for it, my hands trembling as I flipped it open, scanning the names scrawled across the pages.

Every entry was a man. A life. A soul that had been erased, swallowed by Ardnafall. And there, near the end, was Hudson’s name, his entry marked with a date that had come and gone.

But as I lifted the book, a cold wind swept through the chamber, the flames of our flashlights flickering as if something had stirred in the shadows. I glanced around, a chill settling over me, but there was nothing—only the dark, the silence, the weight of the prison bearing down on us.

“We should go,” McRae murmured, his voice tight with fear. “Before it knows we’re here.”

I shoved the ledger into my coat, nodding. “Aye. Let’s move.”

We moved fast, the narrow tunnels twisting and turning, each step feeling like a descent into something darker, something older than the prison itself. McRae led the way, his steps quick and silent, his face drawn with fear. But as we turned a corner, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall.

The warden. His voice was a low growl, his footsteps slow and deliberate, each one reverberating through the stone.

“Well, well, Zimmerman,” he sneered, his face a mask of cold fury. “Thought ye could outsmart Ardnafall?”

McRae froze, his eyes darting toward me, a look of panic flashing across his face. I glanced back at the warden, the weight of the ledger pressing against my chest, the knowledge that I’d gone too far, that there was no turning back.

“Ye’re in over yer head, lad,” the warden continued, his voice a hiss. “This place… it doesn’t let men like ye leave.”

But I wasn’t going down without a fight. I lunged forward, my fists slamming into the warden’s chest, the force of the blow knocking him back. McRae joined in, his fists flying, a desperate, frantic attempt to overpower the man who held us both in his grasp.

The warden fought back with a ferocity that was almost inhuman, his fists landing with bone-crushing force. But we didn’t stop, didn’t falter, and finally, after what felt like an eternity, he crumpled to the ground, his face bloodied, his breath ragged.

“We have to move,” I gasped, grabbing McRae’s arm. “Now.”

The tunnels seemed to close in on us as we ran, the sound of guards’ footsteps echoing behind us, the shouts of men growing louder with each step. By the time we reached the main corridor, Hudson was waiting, his face pale, his eyes wide with fear.

“Callum,” he breathed, his gaze flicking to the ledger clutched in my hands. “Did ye… did ye find it?”

I nodded, but there was no time to explain, no time to tell him what I’d seen, what I’d felt in those dark, silent chambers.

The guards were close, their voices echoing down the hall, the sound of footsteps drawing nearer.

Hudson’s gaze hardened, his jaw set. “Go, Callum. Take it. They won’t let all of us leave, but one of us has to make it.”

“No,” I started, my throat tightening. “I can’t—”

“Ye promised me,” he said, his voice breaking. “Go, Callum. Find Cetera. Burn this place to the ground.”

With a final, wrenching look, I turned and ran, McRae at my side, the ledger pressed tight against my chest as we burst through the gates and into the night.

Days later, I sat in a dimly lit room, the ledger open on the table before me. Hudson’s name stared back at me, a stark reminder of the price we’d paid, the lives that had been erased, the men who’d been swallowed by Ardnafall and forgotten.

But I’d kept my promise. I’d found the truth, and soon, Cetera would too.

The weight of Ardnafall still pressed down on me, a cold, dark presence that lingered in the back of my mind. I’d left that place, but it hadn’t left me. And as I stared at the names, the dates, the lives that had been stolen, I knew one thing for certain:

Some debts can never be repaid.