The dark room echoed with the clinking of chains, their macabre sounds mixing with the distant moans of other prisoners. Lira and Kael were shackled to the walls, each trapped in their own suffering. It had been days since their imprisonment, perhaps longer. Time had lost all meaning in this place where daylight never reached the damp, cold corners of their cells.
Their bodies bore the marks of the beatings they had received upon their capture. Every breath was a struggle, every movement a new wave of agony. Their crime? Asking questions, seeking answers in forbidden places, and now, they were accused of plotting against Alokta, a nation they hadn't even heard of until their capture.
"Alokta…" The word echoed in their minds repeatedly, like a sentence for which they didn't even know the crime. Simply being accused of treason against this unknown empire condemned them to torture—both physical and psychological. And it was the psychological torment, more than the physical pain, that was slowly eroding their will to live.
In the first week of their captivity, Lira had held onto hope. She believed that Gobinot would come back to free them, that he was merely a victim in this dark plot. But as the days stretched on, as the guards continued to interrogate them with increasing violence, she realized that their fate was sealed. Gobinot had betrayed them, sold them to an enemy they didn't even know.
Lira gritted her teeth, each blow fueling a rage that she tried to contain. Her wrists were bloodied, shackled above her head, and with each movement, the iron cuffs cut deeper into her already torn skin. In the next cell, Kael was no better off. The sorcerer, weakened and starved, tried to maintain some semblance of dignity, but the suffering and exhaustion were gnawing at him, too.
At night, when they weren't being interrogated, the torture took on another form. Whispering voices, imperceptible but constant, slithered into their minds, making them doubt everything they knew. Kael, usually so sure of himself, began to falter, his vast knowledge of magic and rational thinking becoming weapons turned against him. As for Lira, she felt something in her begin to die—a piece of her humanity unraveling with each passing day, devoid of hope.
One day, Lira awoke after having passed out from the latest round of beatings. She saw Kael lying in his cell, weaker than ever. His face was paler than usual, his eyes sunken, and his breathing had become shallow. A guard had brought food for her but not for him.
"He doesn't even deserve a meal," the guard spat before laughing as he walked away.
Despite the searing pain that coursed through her body, Lira dragged herself to the bars separating her cell from Kael's. With difficulty, she picked up a stone from the ground and banged it against the iron bars with all her strength. Her mind screamed for help, but her body was far too weak.
"You need to eat, Kael…" she whispered, her voice barely audible, cracked from exhaustion.
Kael didn't respond. It was as if he had already given up. His lips trembled slightly, but he remained motionless.
Lira felt rage rising within her—anger at the guards, at Gobinot, at this cursed nation of Alokta that they knew nothing about. And at herself, for not being able to protect Kael. This rage, she decided, would become her strength.
When the guard returned a few hours later, Lira was waiting. She knew her body couldn't endure another fight, but she had no choice. So, in a desperate burst of energy, she lunged at him, grabbing his dagger and plunging it into his side. The violence of her attack shocked the guard, who fell backward, dropping the sack of food he had been carrying.
The pain in her body was nothing compared to the satisfaction of seeing that man on the ground. Panting, Lira crawled to the sack of food and threw it through the bars to Kael. Her hands trembled, and each movement cost her strength she no longer had, but she knew that without food, Kael would not survive.
"Eat," she gasped.
The guard, groaning in pain, managed to get back on his feet and, before Lira could react, struck her across the face, knocking her unconscious.
The following days were a cycle of pain and small victories. Lira, despite her hunger and the relentless torture, fought to survive—not for herself, but for Kael. Every day, she battled the guards, using any opportunity to steal food or water from their captors, putting herself at risk to ensure Kael had a chance to live.
But the guards were experts at breaking both body and soul. They began to isolate them further, whispering lies to Kael in the darkness, telling him that Lira was plotting against him, that she would abandon him at the first sign of freedom. To Lira, they said that Kael had already given up information to Gobinot, that he had betrayed her to save himself. Doubt crept into their weary minds, undermining the trust they had always had in each other.
Yet Lira resisted. She refused to believe the lies the guards fed them, but she could see that Kael was beginning to falter. His mind was fragile, worn down, and the manipulation from their captors had planted seeds of doubt that she could no longer uproot.
When they were accused of conspiring against Alokta, it sealed their fate. Shackled, dragged before an impromptu court of guards and interrogators, Lira and Kael were forced to listen to absurd accusations of alliances with enemies they had never even heard of, of plotting treason against an empire they barely understood.
"Alokta does not forgive traitors," one of the interrogators declared, a man dressed in black robes adorned with symbols neither of them recognized. "You sought to destroy what remains of our empire. For this, you will be hanged."
Lira, her eyes tired but fierce, raised herself slightly, her battered body refusing to surrender entirely. "We know nothing of Alokta," she rasped, her voice rough but determined. "You're accusing us of crimes we didn't commit."
The man looked down at her with contempt, his lips curling into a cold smile. "Whether you know it or not, you have become enemies of Alokta."
The days that followed were nothing short of a nightmare. They awaited their sentence in dark cells, fed just enough to keep them alive. Their bodies were weakened, but their spirits... their spirits were in shambles. Every day was a new form of torture—physical and psychological. The guards hadn't just sought to break them. They had succeeded.
Lira could feel she was no longer the same. Something within her had died in that fortress, something precious that she would never regain. Kael, too, was sinking deeper into silence, his faith in his magical abilities shattered.