The crystal fields of the Varris Lands shimmered like the surface of frozen oceans kissed by moonlight. Obsidian-veined quartz grew in gnarled bundles from the soil, twisting skyward like frozen screams, their surfaces breathing faint light through lattice veins. Fractured rainbow hues danced through the air, caught in floating dust that smelled like old perfume and burnt sugar. Each step Sen took crackled underfoot, the smaller crystalline thorns snapping like brittle teeth. Strange creatures fluttered around him—crystal fairies, gleaming motes with insectoid wings, bell-chime voices, and gem-cut skin that changed color depending on how you looked at them. Some had no faces, only mirrored plates that reflected distorted images of your own. One flew into Sen's face and got stuck to his bloody cheek.
"Piss off, damn fly," he muttered, flicking it away. Another hovered near his ear and made a noise like a child's giggle mixed with broken glass. He swatted that too.
Bleeding from the side and looking like he'd crawled through a dragon's molars, Sen stumbled forward, muttering, "This place's a joke. Need to find the Kenda. Vexxan's family. Buncha nomads with sand in their teeth and blades in their pillows. This wasn't part of the deal." He winced, dragging his feet through crystal grit. "And gods, dying hurts. I'd think I'd be used to it by now. But no."
He groaned and rubbed his face. "Why is it always me? 'Hey Sen, can you get stabbed for us?' 'Hey Sen, just jump off that cliff to test the poison.' 'Sen, go find the murder nomads while bleeding out your kidneys, you're the regen guy, right?' I oughta start charging for my time." His voice lowered, bitter now. "Used to be worse, though. Back home, no food left. So they made me the pantry. Cut off my arm, cook it up. Slice my thigh, stew it. Told me I was saving lives. Told me I was delicious." He let out a dry laugh that caught in his throat. "What a childhood."
A second later, he was tackled sideways by a streak of pink and white and wings, limbs flying everywhere as he tumbled across the ground.
"Stop squirming, maniac!" came a sharp, wild voice of a female.
"You stop tackling people like a crossbow bolt!" Sen spat as the two of them rolled through the glitter and crashed into a crystal stump. Wings smacked him. Boots kicked her. He ended up pinned under a fanged grin and blazing hair.
It was Lyzelle.
Lyzelle leaned in, pink flames dancing behind her with a smile, "You're Sen?! Aren't ya supposed to be dead, criminal scum?!"
He groaned. "Yeah, yeah, I get that a lot. Trick's simple. I plant a fake regranting core in my chest—looks all shiny and fragile. Stronger folks see it, think they hit the jackpot. Smash it, I go down. Play dead. Pause my regen for 30 seconds. Boom. They walk off, I pop back up. Classic."
Lyzelle's eyes widened. "30 seconds?! That's just enough time to die dramatically!"
"Tell me about it," he groaned. "Still don't know what's wrong with my regeneration. Parents dumped me on a God Flower altar when I was a baby. Cowards didn't even do it themselves."
'I hate it,Sen thought, as Lyzelle had him in a headlock. 'Getting torn up. Bleeding out. Regrowing. Always reminded me of that life back in the hunger-kingdom. Me, the meat. Thought if I fought enough strong folks—let 'em break me apart again and again—I'd stop feeling that hollow ache. But nah. Watched people starve while I regrew ribs. Watched 'em die because I didn't want to keep feeding myself to 'em. Never enough. Never enough arms to cut off.'
He snapped back to the moment, annoyed. "Why am I telling this to a Cupid? Shouldn't you be shooting arrows at romantic people or something?"
Lyzelle grinned, fire dancing in her grin. "Nah. I wanna use you. You and me, break into the dungeons, free the prisoners, find my bond, wreck the place, get out laughing."
"How did you even find me..?"
"I flew around looking for any inmate, not just you. I'm not some tracker!"
"You're insane."
"I know. It's great."
Sen started to argue when the light around them shifted. Dozens of larger crystal fairies emerged from the shimmering air like living chandeliers, wings fanned wide, bodies refracting in impossible directions. Their hands—if they could be called that—looked like weaving plumes of silk-glass, and their eyes pulsed like music notes.
Then he arrived.
The King of the Crystal Fairies descended, his wings unfurled like an ancient war-banner made of refracted rain. His head was long and faceless, a mask of silver with thousands of small, twitching gemstones embedded where a mouth might be. Light stuttered around him like a living prism. He did not speak with words—his voice echoed from every surface like shards singing a dirge.
"All who pass must die," the king declared. "The Witches of Tharnum rise. They've cursed birds and beasts, brothers and brides. They send songs that bind minds. Hexes stitched into lullabies. Mirrors grown from orphan eyes. We will not be puppets."
The surrounding fairies twirled like deadly dancers. "Once, we sang beauty into the roots of the world. Whispered moonlight into lakefoam. Now, we've retreated here. Hidden. Hardened. We trust no flesh. No flame. Not even the innocent. Because of the witches."
"We are the last shimmer," the king said, voice rising into a crescendo of light. "We—"
His head exploded in a burst of pink and white flame, a heart-tipped arrow splitting him mid-monologue. And before the pieces hit the ground, Lyzelle was above him, her hammer blooming from her palm like a star made of velvet wrath and crushed quartz. It came down like thunder dipped in syrup, slamming the king's body into paste across the crystalline roots.
She stood from the wreckage, exhaling smoke and adjusting her wings. "So boring. You murder-happy crystal nerds ever think of shutting the hell up? I'm not letting you kill us! Weirdos…"
Behind her, Sen stood still. Around him, the fairies lay shattered, limp, drained of their inner shimmer. And from his arms, small snakes covered in sickly green runes hissed back into the seams of his skin, vanishing like ink into parchment.
"I don't mind you tagging along," he said, brushing crystal dust off his shoulders. "Just don't try any tricky magic bullshit."
'If she's gonna help us raid the castle…she'll be a great asset. Question is, why didn't she bring up her own kin for help?'
Lyzelle scoffed, shouldering her hammer. "Tch. I'm gonna lead anyway! Haha!"
"No you're not…"
…
Lyzelle tore across the sky like a comet drunk on its own blaze, wings a pink wildfire splitting the heavens. Birds scattered below, startled flocks forming desperate symbols across the clouds. In her grip, dangling like a cursed lantern, was Sen—held aloft by a single dreadlock. He kicked, swore, twisted, and flailed while she shrieked with laughter.
"Stop squirming, string bean!" she barked, her voice crackling with glee. "If you wiggle too much, I might sneeze and drop you on a church!"
"You're insane! You're actually insane!" Sen snarled, hands flailing. "You're flying blind! There are watchtowers out here, you know—archers, hunters, sky-snatchers! You trying to get me vaporized?!"
"I welcome it!" Lyzelle screamed into the wind, spinning midair like a fired arrow. "Come at me, little piss-knights! Come taste my foot in your face!"
Below them, the living world sprawled like a cracked canvas of teeth and bone. Amber fields glittered with spiderherds, each one guided by a cloaked shepherd wearing antlers and a bone flute. Caravans of beast-kin trudged past knight patrols, exchanging barks and hisses in their own snarled tongues. Cursed beast carcasses were dragged on stone sleds by chanting monks, their mouths stitched shut with prayer thread. Magic shimmered in the air like tension—like something alive was listening.
Lyzelle laughed as they shot through a gust of mountain air, dipping so low Sen's boots grazed the top of a windmill. "TELL ME WHERE THE KENDA ARE, SNAKE MAN! YOU MENTIONED THEM EARLIER!"
"You are a nightmare," Sen groaned, his dreadlock twisting in her fingers.
"I am a GIFT," she grinned, kicking through a cloud. "Now spill it before I hang you upside! I'll pick out a dreadlock for each second you don't talk!"
Sen rolled his eyes. "They're in the Rooksplit—just past a clearing near a bloodroot grove. There's a monolith. Real hidden. Only shows up if you look wrong I guess. That's what Vexxan told me I don't know."
Lyzelle gasped, flying upside down suddenly with her tongue out. "Sounds right to me!"
"You are absolutely unwell."
"Correct." She pointed at her temple. "My brain is like a wine cellar made entirely of spiders."
Sen shuddered. 'She's insane! No wonder that boy is contracted to her, he was probably forced!'
They flew on in manic silence for a moment. Down below, a group of Hunters wearing firebrand sigils fought a multi-eyed curse beast with hooked antlers and iron limbs. One knight got snapped in half like a carrot while another carved a sigil into their shield and screamed, "Binding flame.."
it caught the creature's mouth and fused it shut with blue fire.
Lyzelle whistled. "Oooh. I like those guys. Maybe we should recruit them for the raid too?"
Sen grumbled. "They'd hang you. Then burn the rope."
"Hey," she said suddenly, voice curious and weirdly chipper. "You ever hear any myths about Cupids? Like, folk stories? I know there's a lotta crap out there about he."
Sen blinked, then chuckled. "Myths? Oh yeah. Let's see. One says Cupids have second mouths in their stomachs. Another claims you can't kill a Cupid unless you're in love with them. Oh—and there's one where if you kiss a Cupid, they grow antlers and explode. That's the rumors so far."
Lyzelle was howling midair. "Haha! All of that is completely wrong, where do they come up with this stuff?"
Sen smirked. "There's also one that might not be complete trash. That Cupids can make people fall in love. Like, snap their fingers and boom—romance."
Lyzelle snorted, eyes rolling. "Nah, that one's half-right at best. We can nudge people. Give 'em a little push, stir up the romance potential. We can make creatures fall for each other, or stir up mischief in the hearts of beasts, spirits, even trees! But humans?" She scoffed. "Humans got will. Even a tiny, dented, piss-poor will is like a castle. You can't break that unless they want it broken."
Sen raised a brow. "So all those people blaming Cupids for their stupid love lives—?"
"Idiots," she grinned. "They did that to themselves. We just give 'em a little itch."
A rustle crawled up Sen's spine. He grinned slyly. "Well then. Maybe give me a little itch."
Lyzelle squinted. "A little itch?"
"Yeah. Maybe we could take a rest nearby, get to know each other more. I see why the boy is okay being with you, you're beautiful, funny, and you smell like roses."
Lyzelle immediately knew what he was trying to do. So she went along with it, acting dramatic like she was an actor in a play. "OH! S-Sen?! You know I'm vulnerable!" She leaned her head back and gasped, "I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I've never been in love, Sen! Could you show me true romance?! Now?! Here?! In mid air?!"
'Tch. Got her.' Sen thought.
Then, a thin snake crept from his back, winding down his arm—eyes glowing dull green. It darted out and struck Lyzelle's leg. She gasped dramatically.
"AHA! GOTCHA!" Sen laughed. "That's Snake Four! Curse of Obedience! In three seconds, you'll be doing whatever I want. Starting with letting go!"
Lyzelle gasped, convulsed, then dramatically arched her back like she was dying onstage. "AAAAHH! I HAVE BEEN STRICKEN BY—by—by boredom!" Then she grinned wickedly. "Nice try, snake-stick. That stuff doesn't work on me. My blood is mischief."
Sen's jaw dropped. "What?! That was supposed to work on ANYTHING! Each snake carries curse magic, it works 90% of the time!"
"Not me!" Lyzelle barked, then dropped him. "I'm not like you regular people! Bye bye."
"WAIT—!"
He spiraled downward screaming like a haunted violin. Lyzelle flipped upside down beside him, tumbling through the air and laughing. "Bye-bye, noodle boy!"
"Tch! Psycho!" Sen wailed.
"Too late!"
"Oh wait. Yeah this is what I wanted. Yes, let me fall. I can just regenerate."
"Oh yeahhh. I know you can," she grinned, then added, "And I'll just keep killing you mid-regeneration! Snap, squish, stab, repeat! I'll turn you into a snack loop!"
Sen flailed. "You wouldn't dare.."
She leaned in, pupils shining. "Ohhhh I would. I'm bored, Sen. Don't tempt me. Now shut up."
He whimpered. "…Whatever."
"You don't even get privileges from me. You tried to kill my bond, and my best friend Kota."
"Didn't really try, forced to go out there, we had one task and that was to get the bugs from our necks."
She grabbed him by the hair again and launched upward.
As they neared the jungle, the world changed. Trees grew upside down and bled from their roots. The sky took on a faint crimson haze. Beetles the size of dogs wrestled in the trees, clicking like clockwork. At the edge of the grove, hidden in vines, a tall black monolith pulsed with faint, unreadable light—symbols flickering in and out like they were ashamed to be seen.
"This is it," Sen muttered.
Lyzelle flared her wings, landing hard. "You sure?"
"Positive."
She stared at the jungle. Then blinked at Sen. "What'd you even do to end up in prison, anyway?"
Sen sighed. "Killed a magistrate. Mistook me for a witch. Was just defending myself. Explained everything to the king, but… he didn't listen. Didn't care. Just saw what he wanted to see. He saw that I was useful…so he kept me alive."
Lyzelle snorted. "Sounds like Rellka alright. Crazy bitch."
Sen glanced up. "So… what's so special about that brat you're chasing after? Kona?"
Lyzelle froze. "Say his name right."
"Kona?"
"I will end you."
Sen groaned. "Kota. Weird name."
Lyzelle smiled faintly. "He's my best friend. He fights so hard just to keep breathing. I hate how selfish I feel sometimes—wanting him to fix me, to see me as something whole. But I love messing with him. He squeals like a piglet. And he gets so squeamish when I'm near him, and he's nervous a lot and gets flustered easy. It's funny."
Sen snorted. "You like him."
"Of course I do!"
"I mean, you like him."
"…No..I don't think so."
"Why?"
Lyzelle's smile faded. "Because romance with humans is forbidden. Crossbreeding messes up the Harmony of Cupid's. We have to stay pure. I've broken too many rules already, I don't wanna break anymore. That's less annoying Cupid's I have to hear when I get back home."
Sen nodded. "Ahh. I see. Do you think he has feelings for you?"
"…Probably not. But thats good I guess, because that takes romance away from us, and I won't have to break another rule."
The jungle groaned ahead, a strange wind whispering through blood-soaked leaves. Vines parted, revealing the dark heart of the Kenda's territory.
Lyzelle cracked her knuckles.
"Let's go ruin their day!"
….
(Ironbone Kingdom)
(Capital of Varr-Khaed)
(King Rellka'a palace)
The cell was carved deep into the bowels of the castle—a forgotten corridor buried beneath blackstone arches and caged torchlight. Chains webbed through the ceiling like veins of rusted iron, swaying slightly with the breath of the place. The air was thick with damp, spiced with mildew and old pain. Every stone in the wall was chipped, dented, branded with the bootprints of madness. And in the far corner, anchored by shackles that dug into his shoulders, Kota slept.
His breath was slow, shallow. The chains tugged slightly every time he shifted. Blood had dried along his wrists where they'd tried to bind his flame again, but it had flared mid-restraint, leaving the cuffs melted and re-welded on the spot. He was half-slung, half-sitting, resting in a way only the broken could manage.
Nearby, three others hung in their own silence. One was Threm, sitting cross-legged with his head bowed, eyes open but barely registering light. He mouthed something in a language the walls pretended not to hear. His sword wasn't with him, but even chained, something about him felt poised—like he could bite the world in half if he wanted.
Beside him, Pyun leaned against the wall with one leg up, her horns scraping the brick behind her. Her eyes were wide, predator-bright, and utterly bored. Vexxan was on the opposite end—arms crossed, chin tucked down, eyes burning like dead coal. The kind of silence that knew violence wasn't far.
But Kota wasn't aware of any of that.
Not yet.
He drifted elsewhere—his head caught in the undertow of memory. A frozen haze. The distant scraping of wind and ice.
He was a boy again. Alone.
The forest had been his only friend back then. Gnarled trees twisted into archways where snow built up like watchful ghosts. There was a flat stone he found—half-buried in frost, hard as bone, slick with lichen. And there he stood for days. Weeks. A wolf fang in one hand. The stone in the other.
He'd seen blades before—how they danced in the hands of warriors, how they saved or damned with a flick. He needed one. Not for glory. For survival.
He tried to carve. The first strike barely scratched the surface. His fingers bled. The wolf fang snapped. He found another. And another. Each day he'd return—hunched, starving, wrapped in rags. The wind cut his breath into ribbons. But he never stopped.
"Tch! Shit.."
It took him twenty-nine days.
He bled from every knuckle, fingers split down the middle. His back was hunched like an old man's, and his eyes had gone numb to everything but the stone. Then one day, it broke. A jagged edge took shape, not elegant, but honest. Heavy, chipped, ugly. A child's sword.
He screamed when it came loose—pure, wild joy. And then he practiced.
The first swing nearly knocked him down. The second jarred his elbow. By the tenth swing, he'd dropped it from exhaustion. But he kept going. Day after day, hacking at trees, stumps, shadows. Until the sword no longer felt heavy. Until he didn't either.
His eyes cracked open.
The noise that woke him came from Pyun—laughing sharply, her voice bouncing off the walls like a punchline to a joke no one else heard.
"I'm telling you," she was saying, "we're about to get punished. All three of us. For conspiring to bail. You should've gone harder, Vexxan."
Vexxan didn't even look at her. "You should've gone smarter. You fight with no direction, you rely on your chaos magic. Just pure destruction isn't going to win battles."
"Ohhh, that's rich," Pyun snorted, stretching her arms as if the chains were ornamental. "That knight captain caught us with his pinky finger. What's that say about you, huh?"
Vexxan finally lifted his head, his tone flat. "That says Halven has killed three warbands single handedly. That says he earned his title by fifteen while serving Rellka's father."
Pyun whistled low. "Alright, alright. I'll give you that. But still! I have direction. I'm all about strength and power plus direction."
Kota shifted, coughing as he sat up. He squinted at the torchlight, at the chains, at the three strangers. "Where the hell… am I?"
'And who are these people?!'
Pyun perked up, gesturing with her head. "Holding chambers of King Rellka's castle. Real exclusive spot. Usually where inmates go before judgment. Could be torture. Could be execution. Could be forgotten forever. Depends on the king's breakfast. I'm Pyun, by the way. Strongest beast in Ironbone. And beside me is the brooding Vexxan. And the mumbling old Threm."
Kota blinked. "…Great. Just..great."
'I'm hungry..'
Pyun grinned. "How old are you, anyway?"
"Nineteen," Kota muttered, pulling his legs closer. His shoulders ached from the position.
Pyun raised her brows. "No shit. You're the nineteen-year-old that gutted seventy inmates in the pit? Damn. Not bad. Most kids your age are still crying over their first heartbreak. All the guards and knights have been talking about it."
Vexxan cut in, voice cool. "I don't like him."
Kota's gaze slid to him. "Didn't ask."
Vexxan's eyes narrowed. "Strong. But stupid. You're chained here because of a Cupid contract. Why let one get that close?"
Kota scoffed, settling against the wall again. "Buzz off. I've got a bad taste in my mouth for you inmates right now."
Pyun grinned, showing a flash of her sharp teeth. "Oooo, I like him."
Kota flexed against the chains. "I need a way out. I don't want her coming to save me. Not by herself. Not at all."
Pyun tilted her head. "Castle's grounded. Covered in runes, wards, champions. You know about them?" She leaned forward, voice dipping to a reverent whisper. "Three of 'em. Rellka's hand-picked killers. One born from a corpse itself. Another's a relic-bound monk. The last one? They say she walks without a heart. I ain't making that up. It'll only take one of them to conquer half a kingdom."
"Wonderful," Kota muttered. "We're fucked then. Craaaaap, this sucks."
"Ha! What were you planning? Just to barge out?"
"Ehhh, not really. Probably just sneak out or something. I didn't really have a plan in mind, I just know I need to leave."
Vexxan looked up. "We'll be out soon. I sent Sen to find my kin before we were beaten. They'll come. They're blood magic users. Strong. But they might hate me."
Kota raised a brow. "Why?"
"I left them a year ago," Vexxan said. "They don't forgive easily to those who leave the clan for that long without reason."
"So you're saying this might or might not work?" Kota deadpanned.
Vexxan nodded once. "This kingdom is sick. Rellka's fear of Cupids and witches… It's not paranoia. It's obsession. He's burned entire towns for rumors. My kin—what's left of them—hid deeper because of him. He thought we worked with the witches of Tharnum, just because our blood sings like theirs."
Kota blinked. "Tharnum… that's the coven of witches that worships the God of Blood and Darkness.."
Pyun turned to Vexxan, curious now. "So you're telling me your entire clan gave up their soul, and got it back in exchange for blood magic from a God Flower? Why blood magic?"
Vexxan nodded once. "To spread fear. To make sure we wouldn't get wiped out. So we would last. Even though gaining the power itself is risky in itself. But they will die for their own kin, no matter what. I won't continue to be a puppet for this bastard of a king. They know the risks..but if it means getting rid of the king, they'll do it instead of living in constant fucking fear…"
Pyun leaned back, impressed. "Damn. I'm in. I'll join the breakout."
Kota looked between them. "So they're just gonna break you out if they agree?"
"They won' justt break us out," Vexxan said. "They'll start a war. They'll tear this castle apart. Rellka will die."
Kota frowned. "I heard the king's got five God Affinities. That true?"
"Probably," Pyun muttered. "But they say those affinities came from the flowers too. According to scholars, the God Flowers just… appeared. In a field near the center of the world. They've been trying to study them ever since."
Kota stared into the flickering light.
'These three… all dangerous. Pyun's manic and fearless, a beast in human skin. Vexxan's cold-blooded and sharper than he lets on—something about his silence hides a sickness. And Threm… I don't even know. He doesn't talk, but he doesn't need to. Just looking at him makes my spine itch. I don't trust them. But they'll be useful.'
His thoughts slipped to Lyzelle.
'She's probably already halfway here. Or planning something stupid. Or both. I can't let her get caught up in this. I hope she made it out okay.'
A loud clank cut through the cell. A knight stepped into the light, armor dull gray, face obscured by a heavy helm. He pointed.
"You. The king wants to see you."
Kota stood, rattling the chains.
Pyun barked a laugh. "What about us, tinhead?"
The knight didn't turn. "You speak again, I'll have your tongue hung outside the wall."
Pyun shrugged. "Sounds cold. I'll pass."
The knight growled but didn't engage.
Kota rolled his neck. "Let's get this over with."
Chains clinked against Kota's wrists, the red runes etched into the iron faintly pulsing like quiet warnings, each one humming with a still heat meant to suppress magic, sever connection, nullify strength. Pyun called out as he stepped past the threshold of the holding cell, "Kick ass, kid," her voice gruff, confident, ringing with the bark of someone who never doubted she would. Kota didn't reply—just met Vexxan's eyes as he passed. The brooding Kenda gave no expression, only that still, flat stare of someone always three moves ahead but pretending not to care. Kota didn't trust him. Not entirely. But he trusted the weight behind his silence.
Two knights flanked him, their plate armor dull and scratched, scarred by past battles, their grips strong on the chains. They marched him down a long hall, its beauty strangely disarming—each stone block intricately carved with strange reliefs and sigils, the floor lined with a glossy obsidian inlay, catching light like still water. Vines carved in silver coiled around the arches, and paintings lined the walls—portraits of past kings, some regal and commanding, others cruel-eyed and draped in rust-colored robes. Their names were engraved in gilded script beneath each frame, along with terse inscriptions of victory: Broken the Wombed Star. Shamed the Ember Queen. Culled the Weeping Marsh.
One of the knights to his left muttered low, "…you hear? The king killed the maid this morning. Just for saying something about—" but the other knight walking just ahead of them spun, his shoulder slamming into the speaker's chest.
"Shut your mouth," he hissed, venom tight in his throat. "You want your teeth ripped out your spine like the scribe last month?"
Kota kept his head down, but his mind was wide awake, pulling in every detail, every whisper. 'Killed a maid… for speaking of witches?' His jaw clenched. This place, this castle—it wasn't just paranoia. It was a machine of fear. What was he walking into? What happens when the Kenda actually raid this place?
'If they even come?' He wondered. 'What would I do first? Run? Hide? Fight?'
His eyes drifted again to the paintings—kings who had stood tall over rivers of corpses, all in the name of order. If even half the rumors were true—King Rellka razing towns over whispers of covens, executing families for owning red herbs—it meant the entire kingdom was tilting toward madness.
'Could I kill him?' The thought bit his mind. 'If the raid begins, maybe I could do something, anything…' But then he shook his head, gritting his teeth. 'No. I barely made it out of that forest alive against the inmates. I ran most of the time. The King is on another level. Five God Affinities? Who survives that?'
He slowed without realizing it, the flood of thoughts dragging at his steps. One of the knights behind him shoved his shoulder.
"Move."
Kota didn't even look back. "Don't push me."
The knight scoffed, shoved harder, and the moment he made contact—Kota vanished.
A blink. A flash of wind.
Gasps echoed in the hall as Kota reappeared behind the knight, chains now wound around the man's neck. He leapt, twisting his body mid-air, and with a brutal snap of motion, he slammed the knight's head into the stone floor. The impact cracked the helmet, blood bursting from the seams, the body twitching under him. Kota stayed there, crouched, panting, eyes wide.
'What the hell am I doing?' He hissed in his mind. 'I'll get killed. I'll get them all killed.'
But the rage hadn't left him. No, it wasn't rage. It was something deeper. A lifelong accumulation of being trampled by fate, by life, by people stronger than him. And now—now he had power. A little. Enough to fight back.
He heard laughter in the back of his mind. A faint, low chuckle. A shadow, smiling. Kota growled and tightened the chain around the knight's throat.
The others drew weapons, blades hissing with magic, fists trembling with casting sigils—but none dared step closer.
"You move," Kota warned, "and I'll—"
They moved anyway.
All of them.
Charging.
They didn't care about the hostage.
And Kota's breath caught. They're really going to—
But then—
"Hm."
The sound was small. Casual. But it broke the air like a blade.
Everything stopped.
Kota turned.
King Rellka stood at the far end of the hall, silent as death, tall in a mantle of layered ash-grey robes with bone clasps, a living shadow draped over his broad shoulders. And beside him, gently holding his cold hand, was the little girl. The living daughter. Her eyes were wide, too wide, and her hair fell over her face like a veil.
Every knight in the room turned, almost in sync, their fear palpable. Weapons lowered. Breaths held.
Kota stayed crouched over the broken knight, frozen.
And for the first time since the inmates' arena, he felt a cold, true fear coil around his ribs.
King Rellka said, "What did you knights do to make him..so hostile right now?"
And a knight spoke, "He attacked one of us, your highness!"
"Ah…" Rellka said with a tired but menacing tone, "Or maybe you're the ones… who caused him to do it..? I see he's done nothing wrong. He didn't kill one of you..did he? If so, he'll die by my hand. If not…do not push him to cause murder, or I will be forced to enact violence..in front of my daughter. And I will be forced to not forgive myself for it..as forgiveness is banned in this kingdom…"