Kingdom of Hallos, Beswind Dungeons, Present day.
The dungeons of Beswind were nothing like the rest of city. As expected, the stone walls were infected with some type of slime and algae. Water dripped from the ceiling at a vexing pace, feeding the small pond that had formed within the fractures on the floor's slabs. One droplet fell every minute or so, it was good way to percept time, knowing when the end was coming. One drop, one minute closer to death. Closer to never seeing Anaria's smile again…never hearing another one of Rebecca's or Roy's jests.
Shut up…Xeto pushed up against the wall, the silk of his clothing absorbing more of the moisture. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Rebecca, Roy, and Anaria get to live, that's all that mattered. Where did I make a mistake? Why does it matter now? Tears burned the back of his eyes, wanting to escape. But nothing came, sobbing now wouldn't solve anything. His throat felt stiff when he remembered Rebecca. He had never seen her cry—he made her cry. You gods-damned idiot. How could I do that to her? It wasn't—no, it was his fault. Everything was his fault. It all began the moment he killed Raikal. Even if he had stopped there, would there have been a chance? Perhaps. But instead, he decided that he wanted to kill the Lionslayer. Why couldn't I just have stayed… He relaxed his back, ignoring the filth of the wall and trying to picture the moment he had with Anaria. Back-to-back, her warm body against his, even with his armor he was able to feel it. "I die, you live," he murmured. His voice was heard by no one, seeing as all of the other cells were either empty or occupied by a scurrying mouse.
A door creaked open somewhere up the hall and out of view.
Xeto swallowed hard. Is it sundown already? His chest involuntary rose and fell in quick shallow breaths as his hands quivered. Was he truly this afraid of death? He'd faced it many times before, why was this moment lined with horror?
The echo of steel boots loudened until the figure revealed itself.
Xeto clenched his quivering hand, attempting to hide it from the approaching visitor. His eye twitched slightly as he met eyes with person on the opposite side of the bars. Sara…
"This is what you deserve," she said coldly.
Every nerve in his body wished to take hold of the condescending heiress and beat her to a pulp. His mind refrained; it was anger like this that put him in this situation.
"Not going to talk, Loridian? You should know that I do pity you. The same way I pity a stay mutt." She put a hand on the bars. "You must have grown up not knowing anything of real honor and respect. Perhaps you had a failed substitute which your mind understood as righteousness."
The burning in his mind urged him to retaliate. "And you do?" His voice as croaky. "Look at you, nothing but a spoiled girl who thinks she's better than the rest of the world."
"That's because I am," she responded in a disdainful manner. "You know nothing of the hardships I had to face growing up. Wealth can't ease the burden of pain—pain of losing someone or of being resented. I stand on these side of the bars because I held faith in only one person, myself."
Xeto kept his eyes focused on the pond in his cell. Looking at the pampered girl would only irk him further. "Enjoy your unwarranted victory, seems to be what Zuland prides the most."
"A victory is a victory. The way it's reached doesn't matter, only that you come out triumphant in the end."
Some honor. Pampered bitch. "That answers the question on why Zuland has demon soldiers. You spout on about honor and yet you have no respect for the world. Odd that you need conscious-free soldiers, considering your men already have no self-respect or restrain."
Sara exhaled slowly. "You won't anger me, despite your efforts to. Your insult means nothing coming from a boy at the end of his lead—sitting in filth. Zuland men are prideful and know only loyalty."
Xeto chest burned with anger. But if he burst out now, it would only serve as a treat to her. "What portion of your nation's pride urges you to belittle a captive?"
Sara knelt down, her hand still on the bars. "Do you not feel even a fraction of guilt for the lives you took? Help me understand the sickness in your mind so I may purge it from any others as I bring the nations together."
Xeto chuckled lightly as a thought came to mind, one that would likely annoy the brat. "The last person to demean me while I was captive ended up dead. I strangled the life from him. Oh—I remember now, it was one of the guards from Blaika Keep." He looked up to her, hoping he had pulled the right strings.
Sara gritted her teeth behind closed lips.
Xeto smiled inwardly. His earlier fear still rested at his core, but he wouldn't show that now, not to her.
"Worthless mutt," she muttered. "This will soon be over. So I have one final question. Where's my Lionslayer?"
"Dead, hopefully."
"Perhaps I'll ask the elven siblings then."
"No!" Damn it! Xeto's voice carried more distress than he intended. "Leave them be, they have nothing to do with this."
Sara smiled. "Don't worry. I'll keep my word. As long as you pay for what you did." She stood and sighed. "You're not the first that has crossed me, and you won't be the last."
A group of footsteps came from down the hall.
Sara looked back, she continued without facing him. "King Ered lacks control, weakness begets weakness. I won't let that happen, doing so would mean more like you. After your execution…" She turned to him, her lips curving into a smile. "I'll end King Ered and anyone who stands in the way of my reign."
The previous buildup of frustrations finally took over as Xeto jumped his feet and lunged for the princess. "Insignificant harlot!" He was stopped by the rusted bars as she simply stepped away.
"Black sands take you, Loridian." She walked down the hallway and through a group of royal guards without turning.
"No. You have to stop her!" The pointed passed the men.
The guards' faces were hidden behind their helms but their expressions were apparent as they shook their heads.
The one in the front scoffed. "Almost started a war, this one. Pay him no attention."
Xeto's hands stung from his tightened grip on the bristly rust on the bars. "Kind Ered is in danger—listen to me!"
"Back away from the door," said another as he pointed his spear towards the cell.
The leading guard's keys jingled followed by the click of the lock. He pushed the gate open
Xeto underestimated the man's strength as the iron met his forehead, reopening the wound caused by Rebecca. He tried shaking away the dizziness but was quickly restrained, a guard on each side twisting his arms behind him. No no no no! Listen!"
"Shut it, boy!" said one. The group of men overpowered him and forced him forward.
His heart raced, he had to break free. Aura. As he called on his magic a sudden piercing pain ran across his shoulder. He strained to see but saw a new laceration decorating his arm. A clear ooze on the rim of the wound. His tongue suddenly felt numb and his muscles strained simply walking. It was some sort of poison or concoction. He called on his aura. Nothing. "Don't let her win," muttering those words alone drained him of breath. Everything was engulfed in a shadow as something came over his head. It was rough, a burlap sack? It tightened around him, muffling his pleas. You fucking idiot. Rebecca, why didn't I listen to you? It can't end like this. Anaria? Roy? Someone please…help me…