The war cries had once shaken the skies. Thunderous roars, clashing steel, the echo of kingdoms falling it had all faded.
Now, only the sound of clinking chains and the vicious snap of whips filled the air.
Ari and Lari stood at the gates of hell.
Zarathar's prison-fortress.
Built from stone the color of despair, it loomed like a monster devouring the sky. Every brick whispered stories of pain. Every hallway reeked of hopelessness.
The moment their feet touched the cold ground, they knew.
This wasn't just a prison.
It was where souls came to die.
"We're never getting out of here," Lari whispered, his voice barely audible.
His wrists were raw from the chains. His eyes locked onto the broken figures around them slaves, not people. Just bodies moving without life.
Ari reached out and held his hand tightly, as much as the iron would allow.
"I'll find a way, my love," he said.
But even he wasn't sure if he believed it.
Zarathar was a kingdom ruled with iron and cruelty. And this fortress? It was its bleeding heart. Where screams were swallowed by stone.
And no one fought back.
No one dared.
The guards shoved them apart as soon as they entered the courtyard.
Ari tried to reach for Lari but the whip struck first. Pain exploded across his back. He staggered. Lari screamed, struggling against his chains.
It didn't matter.
The chains didn't care.
They were dragged forward, paraded like trophies.
All around them, other prisoners kept their heads down. Cracking rocks. Forging metal. Hauling heavy loads into the dark.
Their eyes were empty.
Their will, long gone.
Their first night was a descent into madness.
A freezing dungeon. Rats crawling over damp stone. Water thrown in their faces just to keep them awake.
"Up, dogs!" a guard bellowed, kicking Ari in the ribs.
Lari lunged forward only to be grabbed by the hair and slapped to the ground.
"Line up. Or it gets worse."
It always got worse.
By dawn, they were hauling stones bigger than a man could lift.
Chains bit into their skin. Blood mixed with sweat. The sun scorched overhead, and whips urged them forward.
Ari stumbled.
Pain again.
He dropped to his knees.
Lari moved to help but he fell too.
The guards laughed.
"Love, huh? Let's see how love survives in hell."
The days bled together.
Stone. Blood. Whips. Silence.
Food was a joke. Water, worse. Sleep was rare. Torture wasn't.
Ari once misplaced a stone.
He was chained and whipped until his back was raw. Lari screamed. A guard dragged him away.
Ari could do nothing but scream his name.
"LARI! Don't touch him!"
But stone doesn't answer prayers.
They took Lari to a dark room.
They knew about his curse.
And they wanted to use it.
"Come on, little sorcerer," one sneered. "Show us your magic. Or we'll rip your lover apart."
Lari trembled.
Not with power but fear.
The curse was inside him, wild and untamed. Every time he tried to use it, it turned on him.
He couldn't control it.
So they laughed.
And left him broken.
When they threw him back into the cell, Ari caught him. But Lari's eyes empty, hollow were worse than any wound.
Then came him.
Lord Varak.
The fortress master.
A monster draped in velvet and soaked in blood.
He summoned them one night.
Ari and Lari stood before him, still in chains, as he swirled wine in a silver goblet.
"Dravion's finest warriors," he mocked. "Now mine. But... maybe we can strike a deal."
He turned to Lari.
"Use your curse. Destroy my enemies. I'll grant you freedom."
Ari's grip tightened around Lari's hand.
"Don't. He's lying."
Lari's voice trembled.
"I... I don't know how."
Varak's smile vanished.
"Then you're useless."
He didn't need to raise his voice. The guards knew what to do.
That night was worse than the others.
Whips. Starvation. No sleep. Only pain.
Lari's power flared wild, destructive but only hurt him.
Ari held him each night in the dark.
"Hold on, love," he whispered. "This isn't forever. There's a way out. I swear it."
But hope faded from Lari's eyes, day by day.
And then it happened.
A young prisoner collapsed under a whip.
Something cracked in the crowd.
Ari saw it a flicker. A chance.
"Now," he whispered. "If we ever had a chance it's now."
But Lari shook his head.
"I can't. My curse... it's killing me."
Before they could move, guards surged into the crowd.
Ari stepped forward.
A spear met his shoulder.
He fell, blood staining the dirt.
Lari's scream split the night in two.
The rebellion was crushed before it even began.
They were chained. Beaten. Dragged back to the dark.
Ari's wounds bled freely, but Lari's silence hurt more.
"We didn't deserve this," he whispered.
Ari reached for him.
"No. But as long as we're breathing… there's still hope."
Outside, a storm rose again howling, furious.
As if even the skies were weeping.
And in the shadow of chains, a single question echoed in the dark:
Was escape still possible?
Or would Zarathar's darkness consume them completely?