Kiomi's eyes barely managed to part, heavy as if someone had poured molten lead over them. The flickering torchlight scraped against her pupils, forcing her to blink while the room spun with a slow, cruel dizziness.
She tried to sit up, but the sudden pull at her wrists and ankles stole the air from her lungs. Rough ropes, tight against her skin, kept her pinned to the floor like a captured animal. She strained her muscles, growled under her breath… nothing. The bindings didn't give even a whisper.
She lifted her gaze, breathing through her mouth to avoid the stench of moisture and ancient stone. The place was a maze of blackened bricks forming a corridor of cells that vanished into the shadows. Each torch spat orange sparks that barely managed to slice through the darkness.
One cell ahead… another to her left… another behind that one. It felt like the place was built to swallow prisoners whole.
For a moment, an image of Zein crossed her mind. Her chest tightened, but she forced a slow breath, pushing herself to steady.
—That idiot… he's probably fine —she muttered, convincing herself by force.
Time passed without shape, measured only by the scratch in her throat as it dried little by little. When the silence seemed ready to devour her thoughts, a massive shadow blocked the light in front of the bars.
Kiomi lifted her head… and her breath turned to ice.
It wasn't a soldier. It was a corpse wearing metal plates so thick they looked fused to the bone itself, a monster. Its empty sockets glowed with a faint, ghostly blue fire. A necro. The kind of creature people only ever saw when it was already too late to do anything.
Kiomi gritted her teeth, but her body refused to respond the way she needed. The necro bent down, grabbed her by the hair without care, and dragged her out of the cell. The floor scraped against her skin; every movement made the world spin again. She tried to struggle even though she knew it was pointless. She didn't even have the strength to curse at it.
They crossed damp corridors until the necro tossed her onto the floor of a larger chamber. The impact knocked the breath from her for a few seconds. She groaned, pushing herself up onto one elbow to lift her head… and that's when she saw him.
Zein.
Suspended by chains pulling at his wrists and ankles, lifting him a few inches off the ground. The metal dug into his skin, carving marks into it.
Beneath him stretched a magic circle drawn entirely with dried blood, as if someone had tried to replicate a sacred ritual with trembling hands. The metallic scent drifted through the air, mixing with the faint smoke that curled around the lines of the symbol.
When she raised her eyes, Kiomi distinguished the figure of a man covered in a tattered black robe, so old it seemed to hold together out of sheer habit. In one hand he leaned on a staff crowned with a yellowed human skull, carrying it as naturally as breathing. When he sensed her presence, the man slowly turned toward her. He lowered his hood with a heavy motion, revealing a face hardened by years and scars: a warrior who had survived far too many battles. His short white hair barely hid the deep wrinkles, but his eyes—bright and tense—held a dangerous youth, almost unsettling.
—Oh, little princess —he said in a rough voice, worn down like someone who had screamed far more than he had ever spoken—. This is the first time we meet face to face, isn't it?
—Sorry, but… do I know you? —Kiomi asked, as she eyes him carefully.
—You don't know me, but I know you. Don't I… princess? —he answered with a crooked smile, almost savoring the discomfort he caused.
—No one calls me that —she replied, irritated, feeling heat crawl up her cheeks.
—Of course not, because you're a fraud… the fruit of a forbidden love. Your father is a traitor who abandoned you and your mother. And the worst part… —he leaned toward her and grabbed her jaw harshly, forcing her to look into eyes filled with hatred older than the man himself—. The worst part is that he ended up with an elf for a daughter. You and your entire filthy lineage disgust me.
—What are you talking about? —Kiomi muttered through clenched teeth, his hand squeezing her mouth.
—Ah, of course —the man threw her aside as if getting rid of a nuisance that had been bothering him for years—. Looks like someone didn't do her history homework.
He straightened, opening his robe with a sharp flick. Beneath it he wore an ancient set of armor, marked by dents, burns, and the slow decay of time. Yet the pattern engraved into the metal was instantly familiar to Kiomi. It was the armor of the ancient knights of Ilmenor. The very same she had seen in old illustrations.
—I am Arnod, leader of the Knights of Ilmenor. Before your cursed bloodline betrayed us. —he said.
—But we didn't betray anyone. You lost the war.
—We did not lose the war! —he roared, his voice crashing through the room as if dragging years of pent-up agony—. Let me tell you what really happened…
In the past, long before Kiomi was born, Ilmenor was not a duchy nor a faint shadow of the territory it now occupied. It had been a fully independent kingdom, proud and self-sufficient, where the royal family ruled in peace without concern for outside threats. Among their most loyal protectors stood Arnod, a faithful knight who lived his life under the unshakable conviction that protecting the royal bloodline was an honor above all else. That era remained his only truly bright memory.
But misfortune eventually found them. All of Sylvaris fell beneath the invasion of an empire that had been expanding for centuries, a storm destined to wipe out any resistance. The disparity in power between the two nations was so immense that the outcome seemed written from the very first day. Even so, the knights of Ilmenor refused to surrender, defending the royal family until their final breaths. However, the day came when the loyalty of one among them broke. A single knight was enough to sell them out, to hand the entire royal bloodline to the enemy closing in on them. That traitor… was Kiomi's grandfather.
With his support, the Empire captured every member of the royal family. Every one… except one. The king's son, barely a child, escaped thanks to Arnod, who hid him among ruins, tunnels, and endless nights, like a ghost guarding the last remaining fragment of a world already gone. In time, the Empire established a new government in Ilmenor, proclaiming that very traitor—Kiomi's grandfather—as the new duke. From then on, Kiomi's lineage was officially recognized as "royal," a title that to Arnod was nothing more than an added cruelty. To him, they were usurpers sitting upon an empty throne, inheriting the glory of a kingdom they themselves had condemned.
The years continued to pass; the city rebuilt itself upon the ruins of ancient Ilmenor, and Kiomi's father inherited the power, keeping intact the lie that upheld their bloodline. Meanwhile, Arnod watched everything from the shadows, accumulating a hatred that did not fade with time but instead shaped him, consumed him, and kept him standing. He swore that one day the price would be paid, no matter how long it took. To him, the hundred years that followed were nothing more than a blink, all devoted to cultivating his resentment.
—And so nearly a hundred years passed until now —Arnod concluded, pointing at Kiomi with a mix of contempt and triumph—. Now you understand, don't you?
—Well, what do I have to do with any of this? —she asked, her voice tense, feeling a knot tighten in her chest.
I've never heard that story… could it really be true? she thought, struggling to keep her face from revealing the doubt chewing its way through her.
—You and your cursed lineage condemned us all. But anyway… —Arnod exhaled like someone pushing aside a painful memory, steadying himself before turning toward Zein—. It worked out in my favor that you were with the boy.
Kiomi immediately turned to look at him. Zein appeared unharmed, though unconscious. His breathing was soft, but his body remained motionless on the floor beside the bloodied circle.
—What do you want from him? —she asked, barely above a whisper.
—Oh, you'll see —Arnod replied, stepping toward Zein with a cold gaze.
Arnod pulled the hood back over his head, hiding the harshness of his face beneath the worn cloth. He raised the staff and began to recite a spell with a guttural cadence Kiomi had never heard before. The words seemed to vibrate in the air, like blades scraping against each other. As his voice deepened, the circle beneath Zein's body began to emit a reddish glow that climbed up the walls, staining the entire room with the color of fresh blood.
The air grew heavy; each syllable Arnod uttered pressed against Kiomi's chest, making it harder to breathe. The floor trembled faintly, as if something beneath the stones were trying to force its way to the surface. Kiomi didn't understand a single word, but she knew nothing good could come from a ritual that made the very atmosphere shudder. When the light reached its peak, a silent explosion filled the chamber, blinding her completely for several seconds that felt eternal.
When her eyes finally adjusted, Kiomi felt her heart stop. From Zein's body, a figure was emerging… something she would never have believed possible even in her wildest imagination. A humanoid silhouette rose as if it had been trapped inside him all this time, tearing through the boundary between their bodies like a shadow ripped from flesh. Its form was wrapped in black flames that gave off no light; instead, they devoured it, leaving behind fragments of even deeper darkness where shadows should have formed.
The figure straightened with a posture that radiated pride and contempt in equal measure. It observed the room with the calm of a beast analyzing a herd before deciding which prey to devour first. Even the necros—lifeless creatures incapable of fear—trembled, their bones clattering together as if the figure were absorbing the warmth from their very armor. Arnod watches the scene with an expression bordering on ecstasy, like someone who had finally found the answer to a century-old grudge.
Kiomi swallowed hard, her throat dry. That thing didn't just look like it came from hell—it looked made from the very material nightmares were forged from. The figure turned its attention to her for an instant, just a flicker… enough to make her avert her gaze and feel her whole body tremble uncontrollably.
—That's why you were after Zein… isn't it? —she managed to ask, though her voice came out broken.
—Exactly, my dear princess —Arnod replied with a joy so grotesquely out of place it only deepened the terror in the room.
The creature slowly turned its head toward Arnod. Its white eyes flickered with an almost electric light, and when it spoke, its voice sounded like metal leaves scraping against frozen glass.
—You… —it said, its voice hoarse —. Were you the one who freed me?
The cold intensified at once. The torch flames shrank inward, as if trying to flee toward the nearest wall.
—Oh, but of course, my lord. I am your most loyal servant. Arnod Gullscream, at your service, — he said, bowing so deeply his forehead nearly touched the floor.
The figure didn't respond at once. It crosses its arms with a slow, lazy motion, as if the very act of existing annoyed it.
—And? — it finally muttered. —What is it you want from me?
—Oh, not much, my lord. — Arnod straightened his back, proud and composed. — I merely wish to witness the rebirth of the demon who appeared nearly a thousand years ago. The magnificent being who nearly eradicated the fallen god of this world. The one who stands above mortal creatures… the great demon RAVAN. —
He extended his arms toward the figure, expecting a grand reaction.
—I don't know who you're talking about, — the figure replied with absolute neutrality.
Arnod blinked.
—Huh? —
—I don't know who that is, — it repeated, tilting its head, —but I'll help you anyway. After all, you did make it rather easy for me to get out of this boy's body.
A lash of cold shot down Arnod's spine.
What do you mean… he doesn't remember? No. No, that's impossible. I spent years following every trace, every anomaly… Has Ravan actually—lost his memory?
Even so, his expression showed no doubt; he forced himself to keep his proud posture.
—Very well, my lord. It seems your memory has suffered some damage, but it matters not. I, your loyal follower, will support you until you recover every fragment of your power.
He paused briefly, satisfaction coloring his tone once again.
—And to commemorate your return… I've brought you a small gift.
Arnod pointed at Kiomi as if presenting a trophy. Her eyes widened in furious disbelief.
—Hey! You can't be serious! — she yelled, struggling against her restraints. She didn't get another word out. The necro behind her grabbed her face and gagged her without hesitation.
The figure turned toward Kiomi. What it did next didn't resemble anything a sane creature would do: its dark "skin" began to split open where a mouth should have been, parting like living cracks until it revealed a jaw of razor-sharp fangs. The smile that spread across that impossible maw was so unnatural it felt as though one could hear bones breaking even though nothing moved.
Kiomi felt her stomach twist, and even the necros stepped back.
But the figure stopped. Something invisible snagged its attention; its gaze slid toward an undefined point.
—I will take my leave, — it announced suddenly. —Bring me more offerings… and I will assist you.
Without waiting for a reply, its body began to dissolve like dark smoke, slipping back into Zein's chest. The process was just as unnatural as its arrival: Zein's body trembled violently, as if something crawled beneath his skin, forcing its way back inside.
And when the figure vanished completely, the entire room exhaled the breath it had been holding. Even the necros seemed to loosen, and Arnod placed a hand over his chest, breathing for the first time without that fanatic smile tightening his face.
An uneasy, fragile relief…
I can't believe something that massive came out of him… Kiomi thought, her skin prickling as a nervous smile escaped her without permission.
Arnod's laughter cut it off instantly. It wasn't a human laugh. It was a crack—something splitting inside the mind.
—Oh, princess… I'm glad this will be your end, — he whispered, leaning close until his face hovered inches from hers. With a sharp motion, he grabbed her jaw again. —I'll be able to fulfill my purpose and take revenge on your cursed bloodline at the same time.
Kiomi tried to struggle, but the gag only choked her further. Arnod tore it off to hear whatever she had to say.
The moment the cloth loosened—she bit his hand with every ounce of strength she had.
Arnod let out a guttural scream and stumbled back.
—You think this is how it ends?! — Kiomi shouted, wasting no time. —I'm sure people are already looking for us! They'll find you, and you won't get away!
Arnod's response was a kick straight to her face. The blow sent her crashing backward, and a metallic taste flooded her mouth.
—How naïve…— Arnod spat, his voice thick with contained rage. —We're days away from any road. This mountain isn't on a single map. No one will ever track us down.
He signaled to the necro. Two stepped toward her to drag her away.
But they never even touched her.
A line of energy split the air like a silent thunderclap. The necro were severed instantly, collapsing into blackened dust. Two more flashes tore across the room, slicing through Zein's chains as if they were nothing but paper.
Kiomi lifted her gaze, stunned.
Lucian emerged through the haze of ash, wearing that relaxed expression he only showed when he was very, very angry.
In a single motion, he hoisted Zein over his shoulder and reached Kiomi, kneeling to untie the knots.
Arnod watched the scene with a mix of fury and disbelief, until he pointed at one of the necro. It lunged straight at Lucian.
Lucian didn't even turn. He extended his hand, and the necro burst apart in a clean flash.
Then he focused on Kiomi again.
—Kiomi, listen carefully, — he said, slicing through the remaining ropes. —Take Zein. Head to the exit. Carry him.
—But Lucian… what about you? — she asked, rubbing her irritated wrists.
—I'll be fine. — He gripped her shoulders firmly, locking eyes with her. —Listen to me: never… ever speak of what you saw in here. No matter who asks. This stays secret. Understood?
—But I…
—Did you understand?!
Kiomi swallowed hard.
—Yes…
—Good, — he said, giving her a gentle push toward the dark corridor. —Take Zein. Run.
Kiomi lifted Zein onto her back and bolted down the tunnel Lucian had come from. Her breathing filled the silence of the mountain as the reddish glow of the ritual faded behind her.
Lucian remained standing, alone, in the center of the ritual chamber.
Arnod raised his staff. The torches flickered violently.
And Lucian, for the first time in a long while, tightened his grip on his sword with both hands.