Ozel Kasper stood outside on the turf of her apartment's garden, the dying sun casting long shadows over the bustling streets below. She breathed out a long breath, her head throbbing.
Her hand still hurt from punching that glass table at the cafe which was why she demanded they relocate to her own turf.
The city seemed to hum with life, yet it all felt distant to her, a mere echo of reality. Her thoughts were interrupted by a firm knock on the wall. Lincoln was done with his emergency call. She turned, her face hardening as she recognized the silhouette behind the frosted glass. He was the last person she wanted to see, yet this conversation was long overdue. With a groan, she headed back into the safety of the apartment.
"I'm coming," she called, her voice steady and unyielding.
Lincoln stood quietly, his gaze sweeping the room before settling on her. His expression was a mix of disdain and grudging respect. Despite the years of animosity, there was a trace of fear in his eyes. Ozel noted it with a sense of grim satisfaction.
"Ozel," he greeted curtly.
"Lincoln," she replied, equally cold.
For a moment, neither spoke, the air thick with unresolved tension. Finally, Lincoln broke the silence.
"Now that I know you want bite my head off. I meant what I said. This crusade must end. You are costing the wrong people money."
Ozel raised an eyebrow. "Why? So more people can suffer like we did? So they can be treated like cattle in those dungeons?"
Lincoln's jaw tightened. "You're going to get yourself killed. Or worse, others will pay for your defiance. Do you think you're some kind of hero? You're not invincible, Ozel. And the Winscots will have to pay for your stupidity!"
Her eyes flashed with anger. "Do you know what it's like in those dungeons? You might be a hunter but I never see you dare grace a dungeon with your presence. Unlike me, because I do! What it's like to be trapped, helpless, and terrified. Do you remember the time I was caught in that dungeon for six days?"
Lincoln's face remained impassive, but his eyes flickered with interest. On her sofa Professor Com looked over in delight, his dark eyes twinkling in interesting.
"Please share with the class, dear girl."
Ozel glared at them both , turning back to the balcony. Her voice dropping to a haunted whisper.
"It was four years ago…"
~Four years ago~
The dungeon was a labyrinth of dark, fog-filled hallways. The air was thick with the stench of decay, and the sound of distant, echoing footsteps sent chills down Ozel's spine. She had been forced into a higher ranking small group, each of them confident in their abilities.
Her job was to merely follow after and be their personal packmule. Not an uncommon request, some private groups did so. Renting pack mules from guild halls for personal use. But it was rare for Oz to have been sent to such a high ranking dungeon without backup.
That confidence quickly turned to desperation when the dungeon's boss monster, a massive Gorgon, began to roam near the only exit.
Ozel had tried to escape with the others, but the Gorgon's presence made it impossible. In the ensuing chaos, she was separated from the group. She remembered the screams, the sound of flesh being torn apart, and the look of pure terror on the faces of those left behind.
For six days, she cowered in the dark, her body pressed against the cold, damp walls of the dungeon. She had barely any food or water, surviving on scraps. The only light came from the occasional glow of luminescent fungi. She saw plenty of people left behind to rot, their bodies ignored by the selfish hunters who rushed for the exit whenever they had a chance.
One night, as she lay hidden in a narrow crevice, she overheard a group of hunters discussing their escape plan. They had found a way to lure the Gorgon away, but it required a distraction. None of them volunteered, willing to sacrifice others for their own survival.
Then her name came up. They were going to use her as bait. Let her be turned into stone and left to rot…
It was pure chance that saved her. On the sixth day, a group of elite hunters entered the dungeon, seeking to slay the Gorgon and rescue the previous hunters. Not out of loyalty, but one of the hunters had checked out an extremely rare battle axe that needed to be returned to the Guild. That battle with the monster gave her the opportunity she needed to slip past unnoticed through the exit.
It took three weeks before she dared step in a dungeon again. And that was under threat of being arrested for failure to work.
~End Flashback~
"I saw people die, Lincoln. Good people that were left behind because they were considered expendable. I won't let that happen again," Ozel said, her voice shaking with emotion. Her fist so tight, small ribbons of blood ran free.
Professor Com's hand rose up, patting her arm gently. Relieving the pressure of her nails digging deep.
Lincoln's face was pale, but he quickly masked it with a sneer. "You think your sob story makes you special? We've all been through hell. But you're jeopardizing everything. Our family—"
"Your family," Ozel interrupted sharply. "Not mine. I owe the Winscots nothing."
Lincoln's eyes narrowed. "Is that so? You owe us more than you realize. Father made a mistake marrying your whore of a mother."
A loud crack stopped his line of thought, a raw murderous aura made LIncoln very quickly shut up. He stumbled back from the frigid air that surrounded her.
Ozel's expression hardened. "I'm not stopping. Not until every slave in those dungeons is free."
"What if I told you I could give you something your... freaks want?"
"Watch it. Wait what are you talking about, asshole?"
A sly smile spread across Lincoln's face. "Their brother."
Ozel's heart skipped a beat. Nahern told her his brother was taken away, their true king …the one their Uncle stole the throne from. But why would Lincoln know where he is?!
"You're lying," she said, though uncertainty crept into her voice.
"Am I?" Lincoln challenged. "Stop your crusade, and I'll give you his location."
Ozel's mind raced. This could be the break they needed, but at what cost? A way to repay Nahern and Selene for their kindness. She looked into Lincoln's eyes, searching for any hint of deceit.
"Why should I believe you?"
"Because," Lincoln said, stepping back with a smirk, "you know I'm desperate enough to offer something real. And you also know I hate you enough to want you to suffer the choice."
Ozel clenched her fists. This was Lincoln's game, and she was trapped in it. But she couldn't let him win. Not this time.
"I'll think about it," she said finally, her voice steady.
"Do that," Lincoln replied, turning to leave. "But don't take too long. You never know how long he'll stay hidden within the clubs. A handsome face like that will be bought quickly. Make up your mind. I'll give you one week. Once you come to your senses, meet me at the Midnight Club."
As the door closed behind him, Ozel sank into a chair, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. She couldn't let Lincoln manipulate her, but she also couldn't ignore the possibility that he was telling the truth.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden appearance of Professor Com, the Comedian Lich, his skeletal face adorned with a wide, toothy grin.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the family reunion special! I must say, Lincoln's offer is quite the dick move, as you would say, don't you think?" he quipped, his bony fingers drumming on an invisible desk.
Ozel sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the gravity of the situation. "This is serious."
"Serious? Oh, my dear Ozel, the only thing serious here is how much delight I will take in skinning that boy into a flesh colored suit." Professor Com replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "But in all seriousness, you've got a tough decision ahead. Do we trust the villain with a silver tongue or stick to the path before?"
"Better the devil you know then the one you don't." She muttered.