Captured

I never thought I'd see the world outside Setvastl like this.

When I dreamt of leaving, it was supposed to be with excitement in my chest and wind in my hair. I imagined palaces with towering spires, oceans stretching farther than eyes could see, and bustling cities glowing at night. But all of that was stolen the moment I opened my eyes to cold steel walls, the stink of dampness, and the weight of chains on my wrists.

I was underground now—held by people I didn’t understand, for reasons I didn’t know. The Ukrainian soldiers barely spoke to me. They only watched, herded, and locked me away like I was something dangerous. Like I was a threat. Me? A girl whose entire world had just been blown to pieces?

There were no windows in my cell. Just four thick walls and the faint, bitter drip of rusted pipes. The darkness wasn’t just around me—it had seeped inside. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. What was the point?

But then, I heard her.

A quiet hum. At first, I thought I was imagining it—another hallucination to pass the hours. But the voice came again. Sweet, soft, humming a melody I didn’t know but suddenly needed.

“You’re new,” she said the next day, her voice muffled through the wall.

I didn’t answer.

“It’s okay. I was new once too.”

I sat up, facing the source of her voice.

“I’m Kasimira,” she said. “But you can call me Kas.”

I still didn’t speak. My throat felt too tight. It had been days since I’d said a word out loud.

But she kept talking. Her voice was a strange sort of comfort. She told me about her home—a place hidden deep within Russian territory, never known to outsiders. “We had white hills that caught the sun like diamonds,” she said one evening. “No outsiders, no drones. Just peace. Until they found us.”

I leaned closer to the wall. “They destroyed mine too,” I whispered. “Setvastl.”

Kas went quiet for a long time. “Then we’re the same.”

And just like that, we were.

I didn’t know how many days passed, but every hour became easier because of her. We’d talk for what felt like hours. She told me about her life before the facility, how she used to be a sky runner, trained to scout storms from mountain peaks. I told her about the marketplace in Setvastl, the spice of roasted roots, my father’s quiet smiles, and my mother’s warm hands.

We laughed sometimes—soft laughs that didn’t echo. She told me that one day, when we escaped, we’d sneak into a royal palace, steal gowns and shoes that didn’t fit, and dance like we belonged.

“You really think we’ll get out?” I asked one day.

“I have to,” she replied. “If I don’t believe in that... then what’s left?”

She was right. For the first time since everything happened, I started to believe again. That maybe there was more than cold cells and the dead silence of underground bunkers. That maybe Kas and I could climb aboveground one day and breathe fresh air again.

She became my light.

Until the day they took her.

It started with boots—heavy, sharp, echoing down the hall. I knew those footsteps. But this time, they weren’t coming for me.

They stopped outside her cell.

“Kas?” I whispered.

“I’m here,” she replied quickly. But her voice trembled.

I pressed my ear to the wall.

“What’s happening?” I asked, heart thudding.

“They’re saying something about transport. I think... I think they’re moving me.”

“No. No, they can’t.”

The lock on her door clicked. Metal screamed as it opened. I jumped to my feet, banging my fists against the wall.

“Don’t go with them!” I shouted. “Fight back!”

“They’ll hurt me if I do,” Kas said. Her voice was calm—but I knew her well enough by now to hear the fear underneath. “Listen to me... it’s okay. I want you to be strong, alright?”

“Kas, don’t leave me here!” My voice cracked, and my fists bled against the wall.

The guards barked orders. I heard her voice one last time—soft, almost a whisper.

“Don’t stop dreaming...”

Then she was gone.

I screamed. I kicked the wall until my foot ached. I called her name until my throat went raw. But there was no answer. Only the return of that awful silence. That silence that fills a space when something important is ripped away.

I collapsed to the floor, my hands trembling. The cell felt colder than ever. Heavier. Like the air had turned to stone.

I don’t know how many days passed after that. I barely ate. Barely moved. I kept hoping I’d hear her voice again. That she’d start humming like nothing had happened. But she never did.

And now, I’m alone again.

But even in this loneliness, something in me has changed. Kas didn’t just give me her stories or her laughter. She gave me her strength. Her hope.

She believed in escape. In freedom. In dancing in palaces and running under open skies.

And now, I do too.

I may be locked behind steel and watched by soldiers. I may be one of the last from Setvastl, stripped of family, name, and home. But I’m still breathing.

And I swear by every memory I have—I’ll find her again.