Kaiden stood in the hallway of the Kasir mansion, the smooth marble floors reflecting the ornate tapestries hanging on the walls. Everything in this place seemed to shimmer with opulence, a stark contrast to the rough, blood-streaked colosseum or the cramped quarters of the inn.
A small boy with a gaunt frame and hollow eyes approached him, head bowed. His steps were quiet, almost soundless, as though he'd been trained to move without disturbing the peace.
"Master Kasir told me to show you to your room," the boy said, his voice low and trembling.
Kaiden nodded silently, following the boy as they ascended a wide, spiraling staircase. The path felt endless, and Kaiden's thoughts wandered. A servant. That's all this kid is to Kasir. Just another tool.
They reached a polished oak door, and the boy opened it slowly, stepping aside to let Kaiden in.
Kaiden's breath hitched for a moment as he stepped into the room. It wasn't just a room—it was luxury.
A large bed with soft, embroidered linens dominated the center, its posts carved with intricate floral patterns. The curtains were heavy and velvety, deep red like fresh roses. A plush rug stretched across the floor, its colors vibrant and rich. On one side, a small table held a silver pitcher of water and a basin, while another corner featured a well-stocked bookshelf.
The air smelled faintly of lavender, clean and calming.
"This… isn't what I expected," Kaiden muttered, glancing around. His fingers trailed over the edge of the bed, feeling the softness beneath his touch.
He turned to the boy, who still stood silently by the door. "This is my room?"
The boy nodded, avoiding eye contact. "Master Kasir ordered it for you. He said you're not like the others."
Kaiden frowned at the words, unsure whether to feel flattered or manipulated.
"You can go," he said, his voice softer now. The boy bowed quickly and disappeared, shutting the door behind him.
Kaiden sank onto the bed, his mind racing.
The room's comfort should have put him at ease, but it didn't. It only made him think of Elira. He'd bargained for her freedom, but what if Kasir had lied? What if she was already gone? His stomach twisted at the thought.
He laid back, staring at the ornate ceiling, tracing the patterns of vines and roses etched into the wood. The weight of the day settled on him.
"What was I even thinking?" Kaiden muttered aloud, his voice thick with self-reproach. "I walked straight into enemy territory. Told a guy who could kill me with a snap of his fingers to do something for me."
The words tasted bitter. Kasir could have ended him right then and there. Kaiden had no leverage—just blind instinct and a burning need to make things right.
"Not just instinct," he corrected himself. "Impulse."
He groaned, rubbing his face with both hands. "I didn't even ask to see her. I was too focused on this stupid tattoo." His fingers brushed the side of his neck, where the rose mark sat like a brand. The memory of the assassin exploding burned in his mind.
Now he was lying in a bed more comfortable than anything he'd ever known, in the home of a man he didn't trust. It all felt wrong.
Despite the unease swirling in his mind, exhaustion eventually pulled him under. His breathing slowed, the tension in his body easing as he drifted into sleep.
In the quiet stillness of the night, something subtle began to stir within him. The rose tattoo on his neck pulsed faintly, a soft glow emanating from its edges. Invisible to Kaiden, the Flow within his body began to react.
It wasn't an active process—more like a slow, natural cleansing. The foreign aura embedded in his body, the taint of the tattoo, began to unravel. Tendrils of Flow moved through his veins, like tiny rivers washing away impurities.
Kaiden shifted slightly in his sleep, unaware of the transformation taking place within him.
When he woke the next morning, he felt… different. Not stronger, not weaker. Just different.
He didn't linger on it, though. The days began to blur together.
Kasir didn't call for him often, and when he did, it was only for brief conversations or cryptic remarks. Kaiden spent most of his time at the colosseum, training quietly. He focused on refining his techniques, trying to tap into the Flow more efficiently.
He experimented cautiously, channeling Flow into different parts of his body. His eyes gave him the clearest results, revealing the transparent world within himself. But his control was sloppy, and he knew it. The Flow burned through him quickly, leaving him exhausted after just a few minutes of use.
"I'll get there," he told himself, gritting his teeth as he pushed through the exercises.
Three months passed in this pattern. Training, reflection, and waiting.
Kaiden's strength grew steadily, but so did his doubts. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was a pawn in Kasir's game, moving blindly toward an outcome he couldn't see.
And yet, he stayed. Because deep down, he couldn't forget the image of Elira's burning inn—or the faint, desperate hope that she was still alive.