The gates of the capital stood tall, like giants carved from stone. Soldiers in silver armor scanned each merchant cart that approached, their eyes sharp, their hands never far from their swords.
Inside one of the carts, hidden beneath piles of cloth, Isaac sat with Mira, Putol, Nai, and Elder Peter. His heart beat like a drum, not from fear, but from the tension of what lay ahead.
"We stick to the plan," Peter whispered. "No fighting unless needed. Mira, you go alone into the palace when we reach the plaza. I'll lead the rest through the eastern alleys. The passage should be beneath the old chapel wall."
Isaac nodded once. His eyes met Mira's. "Be careful."
"I should be saying that to you," Mira smirked, but her voice trembled slightly.
The cart rolled forward. A soldier stepped up, tapping the side.
"What's in here?" he barked.
"Just fabrics," said Ben pretending to be a delivery driver, waving his papers. "Special order for a noble."
The soldier climbed up and lifted the cloth. Mira held her breath. One inch further, and he'd see Isaac's boots.
"Looks like junk," the guard grunted. "Move along."
The cart rattled forward.
They were in.
—-----
The capital bustled with people, but the presence of soldiers on every corner darkened the mood. Banners with the king's crest hung from every wall. Palace knights stood near the palace gates, watching all who passed.
At the plaza, the group split.
Mira slipped into a crowd, vanishing like smoke.
Elder Peter motioned to the others. "Let's go."
They moved quickly, ducking into narrow alleys.
Putol scouted ahead, his small form darting from wall to wall.
Nai watched their rear. Nai held his chopping knife tightly, his jaw clenched.
"I don't like this," Nai muttered. "Feels too quiet."
"It's always quiet before a scream," Isaac replied.
They reached the chapel. Its stone walls were cracked, vines growing up the side. Elder Peter knelt by a section of the wall and began brushing away dust.
"It's here… I was told there was a symbol…"
Isaac looked around. No guards. No movement. Yet the hairs on his neck stood up.
Peter's hand stopped. "Found it."
He pressed a series of worn symbols carved into the stone. A grinding sound echoed. A section of the wall slid open, revealing a tunnel descending into darkness.
"This leads to the dungeons," Peter whispered. "Aiah should be down there."
"Let's move."
They stepped inside, the wall sealing behind them.
—-----
Meanwhile, Mira had slipped into the noble sector disguised as a servant girl. She moved with purpose, clutching a tray of fake fruit and bread. No one questioned her, her disguise was near perfect.
The palace halls were vast and cold, lined with tall statues and red carpets. She turned a corner to walk downstair and stopped.
Two guards blocked the path. Beyond them, the dungeon doors.
'Think, Mira. Think.'
She fumbled the tray, letting it crash to the ground.
"I-I'm so sorry!" she cried, lowering her head.
One guard sighed. "Clumsy again?"
"I-I was told to deliver food to the prisoners," she stammered. "They said the lady in white ordered it."
The name worked like magic. Miss Wesson's authority made even nobles nervous.
The guards stepped aside.
"Be quick."
She stepped through the doors, heart pounding.
—-----
Below, in the tunnel, the group advanced in silence. The air smelled of mold and rust. Torches flickered along the wall. Chains hung from the ceiling.
Then… footsteps.
"Hide," Isaac hissed.
Too late.
A figure rounded the corner. An officer. Behind him, dozens of armored guards.
The trap had been set.
"Surrender," the officer said, his voice cold. "You're surrounded."
Isaac stepped forward. "Run."
Ben, Nai, and Putol stood firm, weapons ready.
Peter grabbed Isaac's arm. "We'll hold them. Find Aiah."
Isaac's eyes burned, but he nodded. "You all better survive."
Peter smiled sadly. "I've lived long enough."
The old man turned, arms glowing faintly. He stepped toward the guards and raised his voice.
"COME THEN! FACE A REAL MAN!"
With a roar, Elder Peter, Nai, Ben, and Putol sprang into battle.
Isaac sprinted forward.
—-----
Mira reached Aiah's cell. The princess sat in chains, her face pale but fierce.
"Mira?" Aiah gasped.
"No time." Mira pulled out the key she'd stolen. "We have to…"
The door burst open with a deafening crash. Mira froze, clutching the key tightly, as Harper stepped into the frame.
"Well, well," he smirked. "Little mice."
"I know your people will come and try to save you, especially that farmer with bugs."
Mira threw her knife, but Harper batted it away with magic. Guards poured in behind him.
Mira fought hard, but it wasn't enough.
They were captured.
—-----
Meanwhile, Isaac continues to walk deeper into the tunnel. Every footfall echoed like a heartbeat in a coffin.
The tunnel sloped downward, but the walls changed. The stone became darker, older, etched with symbols that pulsed faintly, like veins beneath skin. The torchlight behind him flickered and died. He didn't turn back.
Then came the hum.
It started in his chest, low, like bees in a distant field. But it grew. Louder. Closer. Sharper.
Isaac fell to one knee, clutching his ribs. His swarm. They were screaming.
"He is near."
A heavy pressure settled over the tunnel, pressing down like an invisible weight.
From the shadows ahead, a tall figure emerged. Its armor clanked softly with each step, and white eyes glowed eerily beneath a battered helmet.
A spirit knight.
Its sword was already drawn. It raised it, not in threat, but in salute.
Isaac rose to his feet, breathing hard. The knight took a step forward… then paused. Its helm tilted. The glowing eyes dimmed.
Then, it knelt.
One knee to the stone.
Its voice echoed like wind through tombs.
"You carry his scent. The Keeper of the Pit. The one we betrayed."
Isaac's pulse thundered. "What?"
Before he could ask, the swarm buzzed louder, no longer a dozen voices, but one. Deep. Terrifying. Ancient.
"There were eight."
Flashes filled Isaac's mind. Wings of light. A circle of eight thrones. And one missing. One broken.
A golden prison spiraling into black.
Chains.
And demons.
Names he didn't recognize but somehow felt, Azazel. Astaroth. Beelzebub. Lilith. Lucifer… more than he could count.
Screaming, begging, roaring… then silence.
A new throne rose, not of gold, but of bone and locust wings.
Then, war.
The vision shattered.
Isaac gasped, stumbling backward.
The knight stood again. His voice was quieter now. Almost… reverent.
"You should not be here yet. But the door is open. Go."
The stone door groaned and slid open behind him, without a key.
Isaac turned, still shaking. The spirit knight was already fading, its body dissolving into dust.
He stepped forward.
—----
Meanwhile, near the entrance tunnel…
Sparks lit the gloom as Elder Peter's shield cracked under pressure. The clash of weapons against magic echoed like thunder in a cave.
"Fall back! Protect each other!" Peter shouted.
But the soldiers came in waves.
Ben grunted as a blade struck his side. Nai ducked, slashing with his blade, but a boot slammed into his chest, knocking him down. Putol fought with tooth and nail, but was overwhelmed. They were outnumbered ten to one.
Chains clinked.
"Secure them!" an officer yelled.
One by one, the group was forced to the ground, wrists locked in shackles. Elder Peter, bloodied and gasping, looked up, his old eyes still burning with defiance.
Then came another squad. Their boots thundered against the wet stone as they stormed past the captured group.
"Down this way! He went through here!" one shouted.
They stopped at the end of the tunnel.
There stood the door.
One soldier pushed against it. "Still locked."
Another pressed his ear to the door. "No sound inside. No one's here."
"He didn't pass us going back," the captain muttered. "Then where the hell did he go?"
Ben, lying on the cold tunnel floor, turned his head slightly toward Peter. Just a small nod. Barely noticeable.
Peter met his gaze and gave a weak smile.
He made it inside.
Even in chains, hope flickered in their eyes.
Peter closed his own for a moment and whispered under his breath, "Now it begins…"