As they approached the dock, Mel began his descent, his boots landing lightly on the weathered wood despite the force of the storm. He set Ellie and Brandon down gently, then glanced back toward the approaching boat. Caldric waved dramatically from the deck. "Welcome back to your childhood home, King Mel! Does it feel like a warm hug yet?"
Mel shot him a tired look and muttered under his breath, "More like a punch in the gut."
Clyde strutted past Mel with an air of defiance, his glare sharp enough to cut through steel. Mel found himself staring for a moment, trying to gauge the boy's demeanor.
Clyde caught him looking and smirked mockingly. "Take a picture; it'll last longer," he sneered, brushing past Mel with a deliberate shoulder bump that made Mel wince slightly.
Caldric strolled up, throwing a casual arm around Mel's shoulders as if they were old pals. "Don't take it personally, Mel. He's just riding the wave of 13-year-old angst. You remember how that goes, right?" Caldric gave him a knowing grin and gestured for the group to move forward.
Mel sighed, adjusting his posture as they approached the towering gates of Caldara Bastille. "Yeah, vaguely," he muttered, glancing at Clyde, who was already a few steps ahead, his rebellious energy practically radiating off him.
"Alright, people, form a single straight line!" Caldric barked, clapping his hands together with exaggerated authority. "Let's make this look like we're somewhat civilized, shall we?"
As they stepped into Caldara Bastille, an acrid, suffocating stench assaulted their senses, spreading like a wildfire through the corridors. It was an overwhelming mix of sulfur, burning metal, and something indescribably vile. For most of the group, it felt like fire tearing through their lungs.
Brandon doubled over, clutching his nose. "It literally hurts to breathe this air!" he choked, coughing violently alongside the other kids.
But to Mel and Caldric, the smell was something else entirely. Mel inhaled deeply, his chest expanding as a faint, almost nostalgic smile crossed his face. "Ah, smell that air," he murmured, his voice low with a strange reverence.
"Are you two insane?!" Ellie gagged, her voice muffled by her hand covering her nose and mouth.
"Oh, right," Caldric said nonchalantly, rummaging through his bag. "Forgot you kids don't have the...acquired taste for Caldara's lovely atmosphere." He tossed a handful of masks their way, which the kids scrambled to slap onto their faces.
With the worst of the stench filtered, they continued down the dimly lit corridor of the first floor. Shadows flickered ominously along the cracked walls, and the air seemed to hum with restrained power.
As they passed row after row of heavy iron bars, the kids' eyes widened in horror. Each cell held a creature more terrifying than the last—hulking werewolves with glowing eyes, gremlins gnashing their jagged teeth, goblins hissing and scratching at the bars, and pale vampires who stared out with chilling, predatory hunger.
Brandon edged closer to Mel. "These things are real?!" he whispered, his voice trembling.,
"Yep," Mel replied with a small nod, his voice calm despite the tension hanging in the air. The group continued walking, the sound of their footsteps echoing ominously through the dark corridor.
Suddenly, a deafening bang erupted from one of the nearby cells, making the kids jump and scream in alarm. Their eyes darted to the source—a towering wolf-man, his chest heaving as he snarled, his claws gripping the bars with feral intensity.
But the moment his glowing eyes landed on Mel, his demeanor shifted entirely. Recognition flickered in his gaze, and the snarl faded into a toothy grin. "What? Melanthius is back?!" he barked, his voice booming with surprise and a hint of nostalgia.
The sound of his voice carried through the corridors, reaching the ears of countless inmates. One by one, heads turned toward Mel, and a ripple of murmurs spread like wildfire. Then came the cheers—loud, wild, and almost celebratory.
The inmates erupted into whooping and hollering, their voices echoing against the stone walls. It was an unsettling mix of admiration, curiosity, and something darker—like predators welcoming a lion back to its den.
The kids froze, their faces pale. Brandon tugged at Mel's sleeve. "Why are they cheering for you?" he asked, his voice trembling.
Mel offered a gentle smile and bowed slightly. "I'm back, everyone," he announced, his voice carrying through the corridor. From one of the cells, a raspy voice called out, "Hey, Mel! No hard feelings about the whole breaking-out thing, right?" A gremlin with wild, wiry hair leaned against the bars, grinning slyly.
Mel's smile faltered, replaced by a frown. "About fifty of you are the reason Princess Rue is paralyzed…" he muttered, his hand instinctively scratching his arm. The gremlin waved dismissively, his tone defensive. "Oh, come on, Mel! You know that was the dragon's rage moon messing with our heads! It wasn't like we were actually gonna attack Rue."
Mel inhaled deeply, his jaw tightening as he closed his eyes. The weight of the past lingered heavy in the air. After a pause, he exhaled and opened his eyes, his expression unreadable. "Caldric," Mel said quietly, turning to his companion, "let's keep moving." Without waiting for a response, Mel began walking down the corridor, his steps resolute, leaving behind the echoes of his conflicted history in the cells.
As they continued walking through the dimly lit corridors of Caldara Bastille, Caldric decided to enlighten the eighth graders about the prison's infamous past. "Alright, listen up, kids," he began, gesturing dramatically to the towering iron bars and rune-etched walls. "This place isn't just some run-of-the-mill lock-up; it's where the world's most dangerous criminals, monsters, and outlaws are sent to rot. It was built centuries ago by the Ironclad Mages, who wanted to create an impenetrable fortress. The walls? Reinforced with dragon scales and tempered in phoenix fire. No magic works here, not even the gods themselves can break the seals—well, except for maybe Melanthius here." He gave Mel a teasing grin before continuing. "You've got creatures from every corner of the Isles locked up in these cells, from rogue werewolf alphas who defied their packs to vampires who tried to overthrow entire dominions. And, of course, it's where Melanthius and I were raised." His chuckle carried a mix of nostalgia and unease.
Ellie's curiosity got the better of her. "How was it living here, King Melanthius?" she asked, her voice tentative.
Mel kept walking, his gaze fixed on the worn stone floor. His expression tightened as memories stirred, unbidden and raw. Torture, isolation, and the pain he had endured within these walls rose to the surface like ghosts of his past.
He didn't answer, the silence heavy as the group continued deeper into the prison, the oppressive air of Caldara swallowing the moment whole.
Meanwhile, Piper, Leo, and Tomas sat across from Nomak, who meticulously scribbled their names onto a parchment. His pen moved with an almost sinister precision.
"So," Nomak began, adjusting his glasses as he eyed them with a sharp grin, "you three, along with Melanthius Shadowbane, want to perform in our music festival, is that right?"
The trio nodded eagerly.
"Good. Tomorrow, you'll go tenth out of twenty contestants. You're aware of the fifty-thousand knightdollar prize, yes?"
Piper leaned forward, excitement lighting up her face. "Of course! That's why we're here."
Nomak's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with an unreadable intent. "Well, here's the kicker. If Melanthius Shadowbane himself plays tomorrow, you'll get an additional fifty-thousand knightdollars on top of the prize money."
The trio's jaws dropped in unison, their excitement bubbling over.
"Wait, what?" Leo exclaimed. "So just by having him perform, we double the prize?!"
"That's exactly what I said." Nomak's smile didn't falter, but his tone hinted at something more calculated.
"This is amazing!" Tomas rubbed his hands together with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Fifty-thousand is basically in the bag now!"
Nomak chuckled softly, reaching into his desk and producing a neatly prepared contract. "All that's left is for Melanthius to sign this." He held it up, revealing a signature line beneath some carefully worded text.
The trio exchanged a quick glance, entirely unaware of the hidden strings attached to the deal. "Piece of cake," Tomas said confidently. "We'll get him to sign it, no problem."
Nomak leaned back in his chair, his grin unwavering. "I'm counting on it."
"Uh, that might be easier said than done…" Piper said nervously, her voice shaky.
Nomak nearly toppled out of his chair, barely catching himself as he adjusted his glasses. "And, uh, why is that?" he asked, his brow furrowing.
Piper hesitated, glancing around nervously before answering, "Because… he went with a man to Caldara Bastille."
Tomas and Leo's eyes widened in alarm. "When's he coming back?!" they demanded through clenched teeth, their voices laced with panic.
Nomak sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Well, this puts a big hole in Varek's plan." He raised his hand abruptly.
"Wait, no! We can get Mel!" Tomas pleaded, his mind racing with desperation. The prospect of losing out on the money gnawed at him.
Without a word, Nomak swiped his hand downward. In an instant, the kids slumped over, unconscious. He adjusted his glasses, muttering, "Varek's going to be furious. This mess is bad for business."
As he removed his glasses to clean them, a reflection flickered on the lenses—a familiar silhouette approached. Nomak smirked. "Oh, you're here," he said with respect, his tone shifting. The figure stepped closer, cloaked in shadows.
Meanwhile, in Caldara Bastille, the lunchroom buzzed with tension. Inmates were chained to their tables, while the kids sat in a corner, watched closely by guards.
Mel glanced around, searching for his robe. Clyde casually held it up. "Looking for this?" he asked, his tone effortlessly smug.
"You dropped it while flying," Clyde added with a smirk, dangling the robe just out of reach.
"Thanks," Mel said, reaching for it. But Clyde pulled it back, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Finders keepers. You gotta pay to get it back."
Mel's eyes narrowed. "Fun-time's over, Clyde. Give me my robe." He stepped closer, his tone firm.
Clyde ignored him, slipping the robe over his shoulders. "Nah, you've gotta pay—or are you not a real man?"
Mel clenched his fists, his patience fraying. But before he could act, Kara stepped forward, handing Clyde some money without a word. She grabbed the robe from him and handed it to Mel. "You owe me," she said flatly.
Mel took the robe, slipping it on and hugging himself in its familiar comfort. A soft sigh escaped him.
From nearby, Caldric's voice came as a low whisper. "I told you, Mel. Never take your eyes off them."
"I also stole your wallet," Clyde said smugly, holding up Caldric's wallet with a cheeky grin.
"You little sneak!" Caldric growled, snatching it back, his glare sharp enough to pierce through stone.
Before the argument could escalate, the prison chefs marched in, their heavy boots echoing against the stone floor. With a lack of ceremony, they slammed down plates of unappetizing gray slop in front of the kids, the gelatinous goop splattering on the edges of their trays.
The 8th graders recoiled in disgust, but their expressions quickly morphed into confusion as they glanced at Mel's plate. Instead of the grim sludge, his tray was piled high with steaming delicacies—succulent roasted meat, golden-brown bread, and even a slice of fruit tart glistening under the dim light.
"What the—?" Clyde stammered, his eyes wide as he leaned closer to Mel's tray, disbelief written all over his face.
"Oh, right. Back when I was Inmate Zero, I used to get decent food," Mel muttered, glancing at the students with a faint smirk.
Caldric stepped in, crossing his arms as he eyed the kids sternly. "Yes, and if you keep acting like delinquents, you'll be eating this slop for the rest of your lives."
Kara's face paled as she pushed her plate away in horror. "I'm sorry! I don't want to eat that stuff! I'll be good from now on, I promise!" In a panic, she dumped everything she'd stolen onto the table.
Ellie and Brandon quickly followed suit, emptying their pockets with guilty expressions.
"Hey! That's my watch!" Caldric barked, snatching it from the pile. His scowl deepened as he inspected the scratches.
"Pathetic," Clyde scoffed, forcing down a spoonful of the slop with visible effort. His face contorted as he struggled to swallow. "Y-you're giving up because of some slop?" he choked, clamping a hand over his mouth as his stomach rebelled.
Mel quickly grabbed a nearby garbage can, holding it steady as Clyde hunched over and emptied his stomach into it. Patting Clyde's back, Mel offered a faint sigh of sympathy.
"My point still—" Clyde gagged, cutting himself off with another round of violent retching. Finally, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and glared at the others. "—stands. I'll never become a goody-goody!"
He doubled over again, interrupted by another wave of nausea. Mel raised an eyebrow, his tone dry. "Yeah, you're really making your case here, tough guy."
Mel slid his untouched plate over to the kids, who immediately began scarfing down the food like they hadn't eaten in days. Caldric clapped his hands to get their attention.
"All right, children," he announced, pacing in front of them like a drill sergeant. "Once you're done eating, we're heading to the gym. You're about to see just how violent things get around here when the criminals start mingling."
As Caldric turned to Mel, a sly grin crept across his face. Lowering his voice, he held up his hands, now encased in makeshift gauntlets of duct tape and iron weights. "Hey, Mel, check it out. I taped these iron fists to my hands. Get it? So I can rule with an iron fist?"
Caldric chuckled at his own joke, but Mel just raised an eyebrow and stood up, herding the kids toward the cafeteria exit. "Yeah, great. And how exactly are you planning to use the bathroom like that?"
Caldric froze, his grin faltering as his eyes widened in sudden realization. "Uh… Mel, buddy. We've been friends a long time, right?" he asked, his voice tinged with nervous desperation.
Without looking back, Mel waved a hand dismissively. "I'm not helping you pee, Caldric."
Caldric bit his lip, muttering under his breath as Mel disappeared out the door. "This might've been a bad idea…"
Meanwhile, Piper stirred awake, her vision blurry as she noticed Tomas and Leo sitting upright nearby. Her gaze shifted to three unfamiliar figures—Lumi, Caius, and Sera—standing off to the side.
"Who are you?" Piper asked groggily.
Before any of them could answer, Tomas spoke up, his tone laced with irritation. "Apparently, they're wizards kidnapped by the host of the festival." He jabbed a thumb toward Nomak. "That guy's boss."
Nomak, seated at a desk across the room, turned away from his paperwork with an air of disinterest. "Since you don't have Melanthius, I'll simply have to bring him here myself," he said, rising to his feet.
Lumi's sharp eyes followed his every move, and she stepped forward. "I know your real plan," she said firmly. "That man you were talking to earlier—it wasn't Varek, was it? Are you planning to betray him?"
Nomak's expression remained unreadable, his voice calm but cold. "Little wizard," he said, his tone carrying a quiet warning. "You're meddling in matters far above your understanding." He yawned theatrically, stretching his arms. Lumi's keen gaze caught a subtle movement—something Nomak had unwittingly thrown at her which she caught, though she kept the observation to herself.
Leo jumped to his feet, his voice rising in desperation. "Let us out! Please! We don't even know Melanthius like that!" Tomas muttered under his breath, glaring at the floor. "Yeah, we just used him for popularity and fame…"
Nomak strode toward the door, his footsteps deliberate and heavy. "Tomorrow," he said, opening the door and glancing back at them, "Melanthius will perform—without you. And when he does, he'll fall to Varek." He adjusted his glasses with a glint of malice. "Goodnight, children."
With that, he exited the room, leaving the air thick with tension.
Meanwhile, in Klaus, Baba Yaga was sprawled on her bed, surrounded by empty wine bottles, her cheeks flushed from drink. She raised a half-empty bottle to her lips, tears streaming down her face as she muttered, "My children…" Her voice cracked as she sobbed, slipping off the bed and onto the floor in a drunken heap.
The room fell silent for a moment before a gust of wind blew through the open window, carrying a flier that smacked her square in the face. Startled, Baba blinked and peeled it off, squinting at the colorful advertisement. Her bleary eyes scanned the words until they landed on a name—Varek Ironbound.
Her drunken haze cleared just enough for recognition to strike. "The Ironbounds…" she mumbled, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and determination. Memories flooded back: tales of the Ironbounds, the most fearsome wizard hunters in history, and a vivid image of Varek himself, humiliated in battle by Merlin years ago.
Baba clumsily kipped up to her feet but stumbled back down with a loud crash. "Klaus!" she slurred, waving the flier as she addressed her enchanted house. "I've got a lead this time! For real!"
The wooden walls of Klaus groaned, the floorboards shifting slightly as if sighing in exasperation. The house inhaled and exhaled, its ancient timbers alive with a skeptical energy.
"No, no, no!" Baba insisted, forcing herself upright again, wobbling as she pointed at the flier. "This time it's real! I'm getting my kids back!"
As she staggered toward the window, her enthusiasm overtook her balance, and she tumbled out headfirst. She landed on the ground with a thud, groaning softly before breaking into a drunken chuckle. "Ow…" she muttered, then laughed again, determination burning in her eyes despite her disheveled state.
A few moments later, Baba Yaga stood swaying slightly in front of Nomak, who regarded her with a disinterested expression. "Hello, ma'am," he greeted her with a faint smirk. "Are you here to sign up for our music festival?"
Baba glared at him, her drunken state evident as she growled, "Give me back my kids."
Nomak raised an eyebrow, his mind quickly piecing things together. "Ah, Baba Yaga… she's here for Sera, Lumi, and Caius."
"Ma'am, we don't have any kids here," he said, his tone sharp as he crossed his arms. "Now, kindly get off our property before I have to involve someone."
Baba tilted her head, her gaze narrowing as she leaned in closer, bending slightly to meet him at eye level. "Oh yeah?" she hissed, her voice low and menacing. "I wanna see you try to take me off."
Nomak's smirk deepened, unbothered by her challenge. "Maybe I'll just call the Magisterium instead," he said smoothly, a glint of amusement in his eyes.
Baba's confident facade cracked for a moment as her eyes widened. The Magisterium? Does he know who I am? What do I do? she panicked internally, biting her lip as she tried to decide her next move.
After a tense pause, she let out a begrudging huff, backing away with an exaggerated stumble before turning and retreating into the shadows. "You'll regret this…" she muttered under her breath, her tone more frustrated than threatening.