Renn woke with a start, his body aching as he forced his eyes open. Darkness surrounded him, thick and suffocating. He tried to move, but his hands met cold iron. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. He was in a jail cell.
He scrambled to his feet, his breath quickening as his gaze darted around the room. Opposite his cell was another, and inside sat Silas. But this wasn't just any ordinary confinement. Silas was locked in something far worse.
His arms were bound in what looked like a metallic straightjacket, reinforced with thick plates and bolts. Heavy chains wrapped around his legs, secured to the floor. But what was most unsettling was the chair. Another set of chains fastened him to it, locking him down as if he were some kind of beast too dangerous to be left unrestrained. His head lolled forward, eyes shut.
"Silas!" Renn shouted, gripping the bars. "Wake up!"
No response.
He turned to his left. Another cell. Elira was there, lying on the cold ground, motionless but breathing.
"Elira!" he called out, but she didn't stir. Panic clawed at his throat.
What the hell had happened? Where are we?
His thoughts were cut short as the heavy door at the far end of the room creaked open. A figure stepped inside, clad in thick crimson armor, a long red spear resting in his right hand. The metal of his boots clanked against the stone floor as he moved past the cells, completely ignoring Renn's shouts.
The guard stopped at the cell to Renn's right. Pulling out a large iron key, he unlocked the door and stepped inside. A moment later, he re-emerged, Nick's limp body slung over his shoulder.
Renn's stomach dropped. "Nick!" he shouted, gripping the bars hard enough that his knuckles turned white. "Where the hell are you taking him?! Let him go, you bastard!"
The guard didn't even glance his way. With measured steps, he carried Nick out of the room, the heavy door slamming shut behind him.
The guard moved through the halls, passing through wide, lavish corridors. The stone walls were polished and adorned with golden banners, and the ceilings stretched high, held up by massive marble columns. This place wasn't just a prison. It was a palace.
After several turns, the guard finally reached a set of double doors and pushed them open. Inside, the room was grand, its golden furniture gleaming under the soft light of an intricate chandelier.
At the center, a woman sat on a gilded chair, her posture relaxed but commanding. She wore an elegant dress, deep blue with gold embroidery, a diamond necklace resting against her collarbone. Her expression was unreadable, but there was an undeniable air of authority around her.
To her right stood a man clad in dark armor, a steel sword in his hand. His stance was rigid, disciplined, yet something about the way he shifted his weight suggested discomfort.
The guard knelt before the woman, lowering his head. "As you requested, my lady."
She nodded once. "Rise."
The guard obeyed, he pulled out a small glass bottle, removed the cork, and held it beneath Nick's nose.
The scent was vile. Sharp, rotting, pungent. Even in unconsciousness, Nick flinched.
A second later, his eyes snapped open as he lurched forward with a cough. "What the-" He groaned, clutching his head. "Oh my god, that is the worst thing I've ever smelled."
The guard stepped back, awaiting further orders. The woman waved a hand dismissively. "You may leave."
The guard bowed and exited without another word.
Nick blinked, trying to take in his surroundings. His vision was still blurry, his head pounding. He looked up at the woman, then at the man beside her.
His eyes widened. "You-" He pointed a shaky finger. "You hit me!"
The man shifted uncomfortably. His lips parted, and to Nick's surprise, he actually apologized. "I may have struck a bit too-"
"Enough." The woman raised a hand, and he fell silent. Nick's attention snapped back to her.
She studied him for a moment before speaking. "I saw your match in Ravengarde."
Nick frowned. "Ravengarde?" He searched his mind. The name meant nothing to him. But after a few seconds, he connected the dots. "Oh. The village."
"I didn't notice you in the crowd." Nick scoffed. "I think I would've remembered someone dressed like that." His gaze flickered to the luxurious necklace, the intricate fabrics of her gown.
She smiled. "That's because I wasn't there."
Nick hesitated. "Then… how?"
"I watched from here."
A long pause.
Nick gripped the chair's armrests, his mind racing. "Wait, how?" His eyes narrowed. "Do you have a TV or something?"
The woman's brow furrowed. "A what?"
Nick sighed. "Never mind."
She leaned forward. "I was impressed with your performance."
Nick rubbed the back of his head, still aching. "Uh… thanks?"
"But I have one question," she continued. "You had the winning move. A guaranteed checkmate. And yet, you didn't take it. Why?"
Nick's expression darkened. "Why should I tell you? I don't even know who you are."
She smiled. "I am Lady Kirith, daughter of Rudrek."
Nick nodded slowly. "Right. Well, nice to meet you, Lady Kirith. I'm Ni-"
"I know who you are, Nick." Her voice turned sharper. "Let's not waste time. Answer my question."
Nick leaned back. "Still don't see why I should."
Kirith's patience was thinning. "Your friends are imprisoned, and they won't be freed anytime soon." She tilted her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Unless… you tell me."
Nick's fingers curled against the chair. "They're in prison?"
"Oh, yes. And they'll be staying there for a very long time." Her smirk widened. "Unless, of course, you cooperate."
Nick exhaled, his shoulders slumping. "Fine."
Kirith pressed a hidden button beneath the table. A moment later, a guard entered. "Release the new prisoners," she instructed. "Ensure they receive medical attention."
The guard bowed. "Yes, my lady."
As he left, Kirith turned back to Nick. "Now. Explain."
Nick hesitated, fingers gripping the armrest of the golden chair. His gaze dropped to the polished floor as if searching for an escape in the reflection of the chandelier's light. He let out a slow breath. "Alright… I'll tell you."
Kirith tilted her head, waiting in silence.
"It was a competition. Just like the one in Ravengarde." Nick's voice was steady, but there was a weight behind it, something he rarely allowed to surface. "I was flying through the rounds, winning without much effort. Then came the finals. The whole school was there-teachers, kids, even parents. But not mine."
Kirith remained still, her expression unreadable.
"My opponent was Nolan. Everyone loved him. He wasn't just popular-he was adored. Even the teachers treated him like he was someone special. It wasn't hard to figure out who the crowd wanted to win." His fingers twitched against the chair. "But I was better. And I beat him."
His voice faltered for a moment. "Checkmate."
A short, bitter laugh escaped him. "And then… nothing. No applause. No reaction. Just silence. Three whole minutes of it. Nolan just sat there, staring at the board, like he couldn't believe it. Like it was wrong."
Kirith's eyes flickered, as if something about his words struck her.
"I stood up," Nick continued, his voice quieter now. "Looked at the crowd, expecting-something. Cheers, boos, maybe even a teacher coming over to congratulate me. But nothing. My three friends in the crowd just… stared. No one said a word. They weren't angry. They weren't happy. It was like they didn't know what to do with me anymore."
Kirith's expression remained unreadable, but the slight narrowing of her eyes told Nick she was listening closely. "So you left."
"Yeah. And for two weeks, no one spoke to me. Not even my friends. The only person who still acted normal was my best friend. Everyone else just looked at me differently. Like I had taken something from them, and they didn't know whether to hate me for it or pretend I didn't exist. I even got threats." He exhaled sharply. "I thought that moment-winning-would be one of the best days of my life. It wasn't. It was one of the worst."
A heavy silence followed.
"And when I saw the same thing happening again in Ravengarde," Nick continued, "I knew how it would end. I wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. So I lost. It didn't really turn out much better, but at least… at least they were happy." He forced a smile, but it was empty.
Kirith studied him, her sharp gaze searching his face. "You sacrificed victory to avoid loneliness."
Nick let out a humorless chuckle. "Yeah, well, turns out, it found me anyway."
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, she looked like she wanted to say something but chose not to.
Nick shifted uncomfortably. "I could've done better. Look at Elira. She has a broken arm because of me."
"She will be treated," Kirith assured. "Along with you."
Nick's jaw tensed. "She… she got hurt because of me. I should've-"
"It was a competition," Kirith interrupted. "People get hurt. It wasn't malice, it was strategy. And she'll recover."
Nick wasn't convinced, but he said nothing.
Kirith leaned back. "I could offer you a place here. You and your friends. You'd be safe. You wouldn't have to run anymore."
Nick shook his head. "We're not staying. This is the Crimson Citadel. It's too dangerous for me."
Kirith raised an eyebrow. "Dangerous? For you?" She let out a soft chuckle. "These are the rich districts, Nick. As long as you don't wander into the further parts-the poorer districts-you'll be just fine. You have nothing to fear here."
Nick hesitated for a moment before giving a small nod. "Alright… Thanks for your help."
Kirith's smirk widened. "My father has been wanting to meet Silas, so you have to stay for a few days. After that, you're free to do whatever you like. But if you choose to stay, I will make sure you and your friends have shelter and safety for as long as you need."
Nick sighed, rubbing his temple. "I guess I don't really have a choice, do I?"
Kirith chuckled. "Not really."
Beside her, the assassin-the man who had struck Nick-shifted awkwardly. Kirith glanced at him, then back to Nick. "Apologize to him."
The man stiffened. "My lady"
"Do it."
The assassin let out a breath, clearly irritated. He turned to Nick, his expression stiff. "I apologize," he muttered. "I may have… struck you harder than necessary."
Nick rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, no kidding."
Kirith motioned for him. "Take him to the medical wing."
The assassin grumbled something under his breath before offering Nick a reluctant hand. Nick eyed him, sighed and took it.
"Finally," he muttered as he was helped up, still wincing from the pain.