In Caldara, Mel, Caldric, and the kids stood off to the side of the dimly lit gymnasium, watching as the inmates brawled in the center of the room. The air was thick with the sound of fists connecting, grunts of effort, and the occasional roar of pain. Chains rattled as some prisoners fought with restraints still hanging from their wrists, while others improvised weapons from scraps scattered around.
"Welcome to Caldara's finest entertainment," Caldric said with a wry grin, leaning casually against the wall. "Inmates beating the ever-loving crap out of each other. Great for morale, right?"
Mel crossed his arms, his expression neutral but his eyes scanning the chaos. "Not exactly what I'd call a productive pastime."
Kara winced as one particularly brutal punch sent an inmate sprawling to the floor. "This is horrible! Do they do this all the time?"
Caldric shrugged. "Pretty much. Keeps 'em too tired to plot escapes—or so the warden claims."
Clyde, standing next to Mel, let out a low whistle as one burly inmate lifted another clean off the ground and tossed him like a rag doll. "Okay, I gotta admit… that guy's got style," Clyde said, nodding in appreciation.
Mel smirked faintly. "Sure, if your definition of style is brute force and zero technique."
Clyde chuckled, nudging Mel with his elbow. "Alright, Mr. Weapons Prodigy. Care to step in there and show 'em how it's done?"
"Alright," Mel said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced at Clyde. "But here's the deal—if I take down more inmates than you, you drop this whole delinquent act. Deal?"
Clyde's lips curled into a sly grin as he crossed his arms. "Oh, it's like that, huh? Fine. But when I take down more, you gotta put in a word for me to get into Auroria Dominion. Deal?"
Before Mel could respond, Caldric clapped a hand on his back, laughing. "Well, well, look at you two bonding. It's heartwarming, really. Sure, Mel, go ahead—join in the chaos. Just try not to make me look bad in front of the warden, yeah?"
After a few moments, Mel and Clyde stood over the defeated inmates, both catching their breath. Mel chuckled and reached out, ruffling Clyde's hair. "I think I won."
Clyde batted Mel's hand away, smirking. "You? Clearly, you missed my split kick. I definitely won."
Caldric's voice interrupted their banter. "Alright, kids. Fun's over. I have to get you back to your parents by 7, and it's already 6."
Mel's eyes widened in panic. "Wait! I told you I needed to be back in the Hissing Havens by 5! Why didn't you remind me?" He rounded on Caldric, his tone sharp.
Caldric raised his hands defensively, his usual grin faltering. "Relax, buddy. It's fine. You've been a big help today—"
"No! It's not fine!" Mel snapped, smacking Caldric's hand away before he could clap his back again. "I told you we had to be back, and we're not buddies! I didn't even know who you were until you showed up in Auroria Dominion!" His voice echoed through the gym, the tension between them thickening. Mel wasn't sure if he was genuinely furious or if being in Caldara for so long was getting to him.
Caldric blinked, taken aback, and then nodded solemnly. "Alright. I'll get you back." He lowered his hand, refraining from his usual playful gestures.
Mel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Thank you," he muttered, trying to calm himself. But then he glanced at his wrist and froze. "Wait… where's my teleporter?!" His heart raced as he patted his pockets, frantically scanning the room. "It's gone! Where is it?!"
His eyes landed on Clyde, who was dusting off his clothes nearby. Mel stormed over, his temper flaring again. "Where is it, you little thief?!" he shouted, grabbing Clyde by the arm and patting him down.
Clyde's eyes widened, momentarily startled, but he quickly masked it with his usual bravado. "Get off me, Mel! What are you talking about?"
"You stole my teleporter, Clyde! Don't act innocent!" Mel barked, continuing to check Clyde's pockets.
"Get off!" Clyde snapped, shoving Mel back with enough force to make some distance between them. "I didn't steal anything!"
Mel glared at him, unrelenting. "Oh yeah? Like you didn't steal my robe? Or those silver spoons and forks from the lunchroom?" He grabbed Clyde's collar, his frustration boiling over.
Caldric hurried forward and pulled Mel back, forcing him to release Clyde. "Mel, stop! This isn't helping!" Caldric warned, his voice firm.
Clyde trembled, his tough-guy façade cracking as he stared at Mel. The anger in Mel's eyes, the same person who had just shared a laugh with him moments ago, now burned with accusation. Clyde's lip quivered, and without another word, he turned and bolted into the shadowy corners of the cafeteria, disappearing into the darkness.
Mel stood there, breathing heavily, his fists still clenched. He felt a pang of regret, but the frustration wouldn't let him back down. Caldric sighed, shaking his head. "This place gets to everyone eventually," he muttered under his breath.
A few moments later, Caldric sent a warden to escort the rest of the kids home and dispatched a group to search for Clyde. Meanwhile, he and Mel sat on the bleachers in silence, the weight of the situation settling between them. Mel took a deep breath and drank some water, staring at the gym floor.
"I'm sorry—" Mel started, his voice heavy with regret.
Caldric raised a hand to stop him, cutting him off before he could finish. "Don't. Don't apologize," he said, his voice calm but firm. "I get it. I was born and raised here too. It's hard to shake off the habits of this place. I wanted you to see Caldara the way you remember it, to relive it. But I didn't think about how much being outside might change you... make you feel like you're not inmate zero anymore."
Mel looked down, his gaze caught by a glint of metal on the floor. He reached down and picked up his missing watch teleporter, his fingers brushing against the cool surface. He sighed, a wave of guilt crashing over him. "I'm such a bad person," he muttered to himself, slipping the teleporter back onto his wrist.
"First, I sent his brother to jail. Then, he probably looked up to me like a brother… and I just yelled at him." His words were laced with self-loathing.
Mel stood abruptly, his resolve hardening. "I've gotta go find him," he said, his voice tinged with determination. Without waiting for a response, he jogged out of the gym, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the empty space.
Mel walked through the dimly lit halls, the silence weighing heavily on him as he searched for Clyde. His mind raced with thoughts of what had just happened. Where could he be? He sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair, and made his way to solitary confinement. As he approached, he saw Clyde sitting outside one of the cells, his eyes fixated on the figure inside.
Inside the cell, Clay—now a broken shell of the person he once was—bowed repeatedly, muttering incoherently as he stared at the walls. His eyes were wide, unfocused, and his movements erratic, as if he were worshiping something. The words scrawled on the wall above him caught Mel's eye: "Shadowbane."
Clyde's face crumpled as he watched, tears streaming down his cheeks. He quickly wiped them away when he noticed Mel approaching.
"Hey, Mel," he sniffled, his voice barely above a whisper. Mel sat down beside him, the weight of the moment settling between them.
"You okay?" Mel asked softly, his gaze lingering on the wreck that was once Clay.
Clyde didn't answer right away. He just stared at the cell, his hands trembling. Finally, he spoke, his voice cracking. "I didn't know… I didn't know it would end like this for him."
"You know, this was my old cell," Mel said with a chuckle, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. Clyde raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised.
"Wow, I heard you were born here, but—Caldara is really bad." Clyde shook his head, almost incredulous. "We have to wear masks just to breathe here."
The two of them shared a short laugh, the tension in the air lifting for a moment. But then Clyde's expression softened, and his gaze dropped to the floor.
"I'm sorry for how I acted when we first met," he said, his voice quiet and full of regret. "My brother… he was a stern person, and he told me this is how I had to be. Lineage is everything. I thought I'd end up just like him."
Tears welled up in Clyde's eyes as he looked at the floor, ashamed.
Mel's eyes softened as he glanced at the broken figure of Clay in the cell. He then turned his attention back to Clyde. "That's not true," he said, his voice firm but gentle.
Clyde sniffled and looked up at him, confusion in his eyes. "What do you mean?"
Mel placed a reassuring hand on Clyde's shoulder and smiled, though it was tinged with bittersweetness. "My father… as you know, he was an overlord. He murdered people without a second thought. But I've never taken a life. I saved Atlantis and became their king. I've saved Auroria Dominion—not once, but twice. I'm nothing like him."
Mel met Clyde's gaze, his smile unwavering and genuine. "You don't have to follow in your brother's footsteps. You get to decide who you are, who you want to become." He extended his hand, offering Clyde a way out. "Come on, let's get out of here."
Clyde hesitated for a moment before standing up and following Mel's lead. As they walked away, Mel couldn't help but realize something. Clyde wasn't lost—he just needed someone who understood what it was like to be shaped by others' expectations. Someone who knew what it meant to fight for their own identity, to choose a different path. It was the guidance Mel wished he'd had when he was in Clyde's shoes.
A few moments later, Mel landed softly in their hotel room, rolling onto the bed with a heavy sigh. "Uhh, where is everybody?" he muttered, glancing around. The room was empty, no sign of Piper, Leo, or Tomas. But then, his eyes caught sight of Piper's open computer. Curiosity pulled him over, and he read the messages between her, Leo, and Tomas:
Piper: Where's Mel?
Tomas: He better be here.
Leo: It'll be easy to win with him.
Mel's heart sank as he processed their words. He ran a hand through his hair, biting his lip in frustration. "Of course they were just using me. They don't even know me. He let out a long sigh and slumped back against the bed. I'm such an idiot."
His gaze shifted to the electric guitar sitting on the dresser. For a moment, he just stared at it, lost in thought, unsure whether to pick it up or let the silence consume him.
Mel picked up the guitar and began strumming it with a raw intensity, the sound echoing through the room.
I'm not a shadow, not a name to bear,
Not bound by blood or his twisted despair.
What he left behind, the weight and the shame,
I've got my own fire, I'm breaking the chain.
The strings sang under his fingers, his anger and determination pouring into each note.
Don't need a legacy, don't need his crown,
I'm carving my path, tearing his down.
From the ashes, I rise, it's crystal clear,
This is my story—my voice they'll hear.
He let the music rage, each strum more furious than the last, the sound of his defiance reverberating through his chest.
Mel's fingers flew across the guitar's fretboard, the strings screaming under his touch as he launched into a blistering solo. His body swayed with the rhythm, the music pouring out like a floodgate opening. Each note he played seemed to rip through the air, raw and untamed, his soul laid bare in every bend and slide.
The tempo quickened, and with a flick of his wrist, he picked up speed, his fingers a blur. The guitar screamed, howling with the intensity of his emotions—frustration, anger, and the deep yearning to prove himself. He twisted the neck, pulling out a long, wailing note that reverberated deep in his chest, holding it as the music built, louder and faster, building to an almost manic crescendo.
Then, just when it seemed like the music would break free from the confines of the room, Mel dropped into a smooth, melodic run—cool and controlled—before erupting back into a series of sharp, rapid-fire notes, each one punctuated by an aggressive slap of the strings.
The solo became an anthem, a battle cry. His fingers were a blur, bending notes, hitting harmonic squeals, and sliding into fast, furious scales. Sweat clung to his forehead, his face a mask of concentration as the music swelled and faded, finding its way into something uniquely his own.
Finally, with one last, hauntingly sustained note, he let his fingers rest on the strings. The sound lingered in the air, echoing as he lowered the guitar, chest heaving. He sat back, the room still vibrating from the energy he had just unleashed.
He breathed heavily, still feeling the rush from the solo as he slid the guitar off his shoulder and set it gently on the floor. His fingers tingled from the intensity, his heart still pounding in his chest. He glanced out the window, noticing a small crowd gathered outside, their eyes fixed on him.
A cheer erupted from the group.
"That's how you do it!" someone shouted, their voice filled with admiration.
"Amazing!" another person called out, clapping loudly.
"Phenomenal!" someone else shouted, their tone eager and impressed.
"He'll definitely win the contest!" another voice chimed in, filled with confidence.
Mel stood up from his seat, a faint, surprised grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He hadn't expected this—he'd just played for himself, for the release, for the music. But hearing their praise, their excitement, made the moment feel surreal.
He walked over to the window and gave the crowd a small wave.
"You all think so?" he called out, raising his eyebrows in a playful challenge. "Better get ready for the competition then."
One of the voices yelled back, "We've already seen the winner!"
Mel chuckled to himself, his chest swelling with a mix of pride and relief. He wasn't just the son of an overlord; he was Melanthius, the one who could make his own way.
A few moments later, Mel strolled through the bustling streets of the Hissing Havens, the energy of the upcoming music festival filling the air. He passed by vendors setting up their stalls, colorful banners flapping in the wind, and the sound of hammers and nails as stages took shape. People were already claiming spots on the grassy fields, laying out blankets and unpacking picnic baskets, their chatter and laughter blending with the hum of excitement.
The scent of freshly baked goods wafted through the air, and children ran between the stalls, their faces bright with anticipation. Mel paused, taking in the scene with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. The festival was already beginning to take on a life of its own, and for the first time in a long while, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope that this might actually be different.
He ran a hand through his hair, scanning the area, his mind still racing with thoughts of what was to come.
Suddenly, Mel was yanked into a portable toilet, his back slammed against the wall as Baba Yaga pinned him there with surprising strength. The smell of stale beer hit him as she leaned in, her breath heavy. "Mel, my kids are being held by the host of this festival," she said urgently, her eyes wide with desperation.
Mel raised an eyebrow, wrinkling his nose. "Are you drunk? Wait, I met the host—well, technically, I had to throw up, but still..."
"No, no! The host's name is Varek. He's a wizard hunter. He'll kill them!" Her voice cracked as she started to panic, her hands shaking.
Mel sighed, trying to keep his composure. "You need to calm down. You're drunk," he said gently, stepping forward and pulling her into a tight hug. "I'll take care of it, okay?"
She clutched onto him, her eyes glistening with fear. "Please, Mel. I can't—because of the magisterium. You're the only one who can help."
Mel closed his eyes for a moment, silently cursing the situation. Then, with a resigned nod, he set her down gently on the toilet. "Fine. I'll check. Just stay here and calm down."
He left the port-a-potty and made his way through the festival grounds, the sounds of people laughing and talking swirling around him. At the center of it all, Varek stood on stage, deep in conversation with a few individuals.
Mel took a deep breath and approached, his voice steady but firm. "Hello, sir. You may know me—Melanthius Shadowbane. I'm entering your contest with my friends Piper, Tomas, and Leo. I wanted to ask if you've seen three kids: a girl with red eyes and red hair, a girl with blue eyes and blue hair, and a boy with green eyes and green hair... or he might be a llama, or a wolf, or a gorilla?"
Varek looked at him, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. "I haven't seen anyone like that. Now, please, step off the stage." His tone was sharp, but Mel didn't back down.
"Okay, but can I check behind the stage?" Mel asked, his gaze steady.
Varek's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but after a tense moment, he sighed. "Fine."
As Mel walked behind the stage, unaware of the knife Varek had hidden behind his back, he was met with a grim sight. The cage where Sera, Lumi, Caius, Piper, Leo, and Tomas should've been locked up was empty. No sign of them anywhere.
He stood still for a beat, bowing slightly out of respect. "Sorry, sir," he muttered under his breath, before walking back off the stage, his mind already racing.
Behind him, Varek was visibly rattled, his fingers digging into his nails as he tried to mask the panic rising in his chest. Something was off, and he could feel it.
A few moments later, Varek delivered a brutal punch to Nomak's chest, sending him crashing into the wall with a sickening thud. "How could you lose them?!" Varek roared, his voice echoing through the room. Before Nomak could recover, Varek advanced on him and delivered a series of savage kicks to his face. "Six kids! You let six kids escape?!"
Grabbing Nomak by the collar, Varek hauled him up with ease and slammed their foreheads together in a vicious headbutt. "You worthless wizard!" Varek spat, his voice dripping with venom. "Do you actually think the magisterium would ever take you back? Pathetic." His sneer deepened as he shoved Nomak back against the table, leaning in close, his voice now dangerously quiet. "Come on. Show me you've got some fight left. Take a swing at me. Just one."
Nomak trembled, his body shaking with fear and pain, blood trickling down from his lip. "I—I'm sorry," he stammered, his voice barely a whisper.
Varek adjusted his glasses with calculated precision, his expression cold and unyielding. "Sorry doesn't cut it, Nomak. Get it done, or I'll make sure you regret even breathing in my presence."
Varek stormed out, leaving Nomak crumpled on the floor. Slowly, Nomak pushed himself to his feet, wincing as he wiped the blood from his face. His broken glasses dangled uselessly in his hand. He stared at them for a moment before letting out a bitter laugh. "The Magisterium... damn it," he muttered, his voice filled with a mix of anger and pain. "Why'd he have to bring up those memories?"
His gaze shifted to the cage, and his eyes narrowed at the sight of the key still sticking out of the lock. He grabbed it, turning it over in his hand. A flicker of grudging admiration crossed his face as he whispered, "That blue-haired girl... clever little thing, isn't she?"
Nomak looked up toward the dim light filtering into the room, his jaw tightening as he muttered with disdain, "Wizards."
Deep in the forest, Piper, Tomas, and Leo stumbled after Sera, Lumi, and Caius, their breaths ragged as they struggled to keep up with the others. The underbrush crackled beneath their feet as Piper finally called out, "Wait—wait! We need to take a break!" She leaned against a tree, gasping for air, while Tomas and Leo doubled over, hands on their knees.
The group came to a halt, Lumi turning to face them with a determined expression. "We can't waste time. We need to find Yaga and Mel. They need to know about Varek. Nomak gave me the key to escape, so I don't think he's our biggest problem anymore. But running away isn't the answer."
Sera, her eyes blazing with intensity, crossed her arms and shot a glare at Piper, Tomas, and Leo. "We don't even need these three," she said coldly. "They were just using Mel, and we all know it. They don't care if Varek gets to him or not."
Tomas frowned, stepping forward. "That's not true! Yeah, we messed up, but—"
Sera cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand. "Don't even try to defend yourselves. You don't care about him, and you never did. All you saw was someone you could use to win your stupid contest."
"I did at first," Piper admitted, her voice trembling, "but then I realized he was actually really cool. I was wrong, okay?"
Sera let out a sharp scoff, rolling her eyes. "Oh, he was cool? That's what it took for you to stop using him? Mel has to prove himself to you, win your approval, before you decide he's worth treating like a person? Wow."
Piper's face fell, guilt spreading across her features. "That's not what I meant—"
"Save it," Lumi snapped, cutting her off. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Piper, Tomas, and Leo with disdain. "You've already done enough damage. As far as I'm concerned, you're dead weight. Matter of fact, don't even bother coming back with us. Just stay here. Hide. It's not like there's anything else you could actually contribute."
Before they could respond, Caius shifted into a sleek black horse, his transformation accompanied by a faint shimmer of magic. Lumi and Sera climbed onto his back, neither sparing the trio another glance. With a fierce kick of his hooves, Caius galloped into the forest, leaving Piper, Tomas, and Leo standing in silence, the weight of their actions sinking in as they watched the others disappear into the trees.
Meanwhile, Mel and Yaga sat in Klaus, sipping tea amidst the comforting hum of the inn. Mel leaned forward, frustration evident on his face. "He swore he didn't have any kids in that cage, but I saw it, Yaga. They were there."
Yaga slammed her hand on the table, her anger boiling over. The wooden surface cracked under her strength, splintering into pieces. "That lying son of a bitch!" she growled, quickly waving her hand to conjure another table as if nothing had happened. "I'm telling you, Mel, if anyone knows where my kids are, it's him. Varek's always been a snake, slithering in the shadows."
Mel nodded and pulled out his tiny, unassuming book. Its worn cover gleamed faintly under the light. "Wait, maybe I can find something here."
Yaga's eyes lit up with curiosity. "That's Merlin's old notebook, isn't it?" She leaned closer, her voice lowering in awe. "He wrote everything in that thing. And it's so small! Nobody's ever been able to carry it—too heavy, too cursed, or so they say. Guess it finally ended up in the right hands." She smiled warmly at Mel.
Mel offered a small grin in return, flipping through the pages. "Yeah, let's see... oh, here it is." He tapped a page and began reading aloud:
"I've never fought someone so pathetic as Varek Ironbound. When we fought, the bastard actually cried. He walks around like he's some kind of god, but he's nothing more than a spoiled coward. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, always relying on others to fight his battles for him. When he invaded one of my kingdoms, I didn't even break a sweat. I crushed his entire army and then faced him one-on-one. It was the first time I didn't need to use a single spell to win a fight."
Yaga laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "That tracks. Varek's always been a fraud. For years, he had powerful wizards backing him, doing the dirty work. But now? Without them, he's just a shadow of what he pretends to be—nothing."
Mel raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. "Look, we don't even know if he's planning anything. For all we know, he doesn't even have the kids. Maybe we just wait this out, see what happens."
He reached out and placed a reassuring hand on hers, but his words faltered when he saw a single tear slide down Yaga's cheek. Her face crumpled, and moments later, she was sobbing into her hands.
Mel groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Oh, come on! Okay, okay! I'll go check it out tonight, all right? Will that make you feel better?"
Yaga's tear-streaked face instantly lit up with a hopeful smile. "Okay!" she exclaimed, wiping her face.
Mel sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, great. You better be right about this."
When night fell, Mel walked through the darkened streets, the cool air carrying faint melodies as a few festival-goers strummed guitars, likely practicing for their performances. Some were sprawled lazily on the ground, humming drunken tunes under the dim glow of hanging lanterns. Keeping a low profile, Mel leapt into the air, his movements as silent as the breeze. He soared over the festival grounds and dive-bombed into the shadows behind the stage, landing lightly on his feet.
His eyes scanned the area, alert for any movement. Staying low, he crept toward the cage where the kids had been held earlier. Kneeling down, he examined it closely. The cage door hung slightly ajar, the key still sticking out of the lock.
Mel furrowed his brow, brushing his fingers over the key. "If the kids were really here," he muttered under his breath, "they'd have busted out somehow. With the key just sitting here? No... they definitely had help."
He stood up, glancing around the area for any other clues. His instincts told him something didn't add up, and whatever was going on, Varek wasn't just letting things slide.
Mel's eyes caught a faint shimmer beneath a desk nearby. Narrowing his gaze, he moved closer, careful not to make a sound. As he reached the desk, he crouched and pulled out a diamond-encrusted wand. The intricate design sparkled faintly under the dim lighting, and Mel turned it over in his hands, inspecting it.
"What the hell?" he whispered to himself. "Varek's no wizard... at least not from what I've heard. So why would he have something like this? Unless—" His mind raced. "He's working with someone else. A wizard, maybe."
The thought sent a chill down his spine. Whoever was aiding Varek wasn't your run-of-the-mill spellcaster—this wand was crafted for power.
Mel pocketed the wand just as the sound of footsteps echoed in the distance. His ears perked up, and he immediately darted toward the nearest shadows, his body tense and ready to move. The footsteps grew louder, and without a second thought, Mel launched himself into the air, his wings carrying him into the night sky.
From above, he glanced back, watching as a figure entered the area he'd just left. Staying hidden among the clouds, he clenched his jaw. "This just got a lot more complicated."