(Tridra POV)
I soon awoke.
The cell was suffocatingly small, barely large enough to stand upright without brushing against the walls. Three sides were stone, damp and rough, the kind that seemed to swallow sound and light. The fourth wall was a barrier of cold, unforgiving metal bars. The oppressive silence was punctuated only by the occasional distant drip of water echoing somewhere in the prison's depths.
I sat hunched on the hard ground, tracing a finger through the layer of dust that had collected in one corner of my cell. My magic was useless here. The room was built for suppression, the air thick with enchantments designed to nullify even the most potent abilities. No matter how much I reached inward for that familiar spark, it was absent.
There was no escape—not with magic, at least. My mind reeled back to the last thing I could cling to, the one detail that didn't sit right. Ophelia. The way she stood over me, her sharp gaze piercing, her expression unreadable. At first, I'd thought she was simply taunting me, reveling in her victory. But no... there was something else.
I whispered to myself, "That… was morse code… right?"
It was a hunch. A wild one. But my intuition screamed at me that her blinks hadn't been random. They'd been deliberate and oh so carefully placed. I turned to the dust in the corner of my cell, using it as my canvas. Carefully, I began to retrace each blink in my mind. Long and short. Slow and fast. I carved them into the floor with my fingertip, recalling each motion with painstaking effort.
Then, she took a step back and looked at what she had written down.
..--- ....-.---- -.....
My hand hovered over the dusty floor as I stared at the string of numbers I'd written out. "2416. What is that?"
The damp, confined space of the cell pressed against me as I stared down at the dusty numbers I had scrawled on the floor: 2416. My head buzzed with possibilities, each one pulling me in a different direction. The answer had to be here. It had to.
I rubbed my temples, squinting at the numbers. Time… Could it be a clock?
"24:16," I muttered. That doesn't make sense; the day ends at midnight. It would reset to 00:16. Midnight? No, that couldn't be it either. Why would she send a cryptic message about a time if it didn't even matter when I was locked in this cell? I growled under my breath, kicking at the dust. "But I mean it could also mean a time when she is going to break me out. Maybe? I can't really rely on that though…"
I sat back, my mind racing to the possibility of coordinates.
"24 latitude…? 16 longitude…?" I whispered, tilting my head as if the answer would float down from the ceiling.
But coordinates to where? Without a map, this was useless. Could it be something inside the palace grounds? Or was it even in this realm? My pulse quickened, but the more I thought about it, the more it felt like chasing smoke. Frustration bubbled in my chest. "Fuck… I'm too stupid for this…"
My eyes darted around the cell. "Could it be a room number?"
Room 24, floor 16… That would mean something if this prison even had 16 floors. When I was planning my espionage, the schematics for the entire royal palace and its prison only had 5 floors. Was it maybe just the palace? Maybe the noble halls? I gritted my teeth, imagining the vast labyrinth of corridors and chambers in the palace.
I had studied the blueprint yet… not that well… so there was no way to know without getting out of here.
I slumped against the wall, the rough stone scraping my back. Each idea led nowhere, a maze of dead ends. "This is so annoying…" The dust swirled lazily in the pale light as I glared at the numbers again. 2416. What was I missing?
The cold air bit at my skin, as I sat hunched in the corner of the cell, staring at the numbers, scratched in the dust. My brain burned with frustration, each thought chasing the next in a maddening loop of dead ends.
"What has you so stressed, lass?"
I froze, snapping my head up toward the bars of the cell. Across the dim hallway was another cell. Its occupant sat in the darkness, but as my eyes adjusted, I wished they hadn't. The man was a walking nightmare—no eyes, hair tangled and matted, a scruffy black beard clinging to his gaunt face. His ears were missing entirely, and his body was a patchwork of scars, each one jagged and cruel like someone had tossed him into a blender for fun. My stomach churned, and I felt a shiver crawl down my back.
He chuckled, a raspy sound that scraped against my nerves. "They make you uncomfortable? Good. That means they did their job."
"What… happened to you?" I asked, my voice low.
"They played games, lass," he replied, his tone eerily casual. "Pulled my tongue, cut it out, regrew it. Over and over. Pulled my teeth till I couldn't scream. Then they chopped off my fingers and toes. Always healed me, though. Said it was to keep me talking. Torture doesn't end in here, lass. It just takes its time."
I bit the inside of my cheek, my gaze darting back to the floor. "2416," I murmured. "Do you know what it could mean?"
He tilted his head, the motion unsettling in his condition. "Numbers? No clue. My mind's like soup these days. But tell me… what's your name?"
"Annabelle," I lied smoothly.
The man grinned, his broken teeth glinting faintly in the low light. "Pretty name. I don't remember mine, but I know I was a commander once. Had a home by the sea. Used to wake up with coffee in hand, breathing in the salt air. Should've stayed there, shouldn't I?"
"Commander of what?" I asked, feigning interest while my mind churned over the numbers again.
"Some kingdom," he muttered, his tone softening. "Doesn't matter now. Caught by a demoness. Tore my life apart. And look at me now." He gestured vaguely to his ruined body. "I had power once. Too much of it. Forgot how to appreciate the small things in life. Should've walked away. Could've had a family, kids. Something worth holding on to."
'What is this crazy man talking about— wait…' I thought to myself before echoing under my breath, "Small things…"
My eyes locked on the numbers again, and something clicked. Runes. They weren't just numbers—they were positions in the ancient runic alphabet. The basics of magic. Forgotten by most, but not by me. My time in the Holy Magic Academy came rushing back. I cursed myself for skipping so many lessons, but my fingers itched to write.
I racked my brain over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over until I couldn't think about anything except for the runes I had just deduced. By some miracle, it seems some of the information from my classes actually stuck.
Blocking out the man's rambling, I bit my finger, drawing blood. Carefully, I drew a circle on the floor, my focus sharp despite the trembling in my hands. Each cardinal direction of the circle received a rune, and their placement was precise. As I worked, the glow of the runes intensified, turning a deep ethereal blue. My heart pounded as the air in the cell thickened with energy.
The guards came running, their heavy boots echoing down the hall. Red auras surrounded them as they drew their swords, but it was too late. The runes flared, surrounding me in swirling light. I flashed them a grin, raising both hands with twin middle fingers.
"See you later, fuckers."
The world went dark, my body twisting and turning as if my insides were being jumbled together. I couldn't tell if I was screaming or laughing. Then, as suddenly as it started, light flooded my vision. I staggered, blinking rapidly as my surroundings came into focus.
A luxurious room stretched before me—dark marble walls, a grand bed draped in rich fabrics, candles flickering warmly. Red curtains framed tall windows, and the faint scent of lavender hung in the air.
"So… they were coordinates… and runes?" I muttered to myself before feeling the presence of somebody turn into the room.
Instantly, I shot up and dashed towards the door, a violet glow enveloping my eyes, preparing to charm them in an instant.
VWOOOOOM
The moment the sound surged in my ears, my entire mind recoiled as if struck by a hammer. It felt like every cell in my brain had been shoved backward, pressing against the walls of my skull. I staggered, blinking rapidly, the violet glow in my eyes flickering out like a snuffed flame. The pressure… It was insurmountable. I'd felt resistance before, breaking through the defenses of strong minds, but this… this was something else entirely.
In that instant, my vision twisted. Instead of a person standing before me, I saw a wall. A wall that stretched endlessly upward, towering into the heavens, its surface smooth and impenetrable. My heart thundered in my chest. No matter how I tried to focus, my charm magic simply slid off, powerless.
A sharp breath snapped me back to reality, and I stumbled, landing hard on the cold marble floor. I looked up, my pulse pounding in my ears. Ophelia von Aubessec stood over me, her silver hair catching the faint candlelight, her gaze locked on mine. A small grin curved her lips, calm yet unnerving.
"I knew you would not fail," she said, her voice smooth but heavy with certainty.
I shuffled back on the floor, my palms skidding against the marble. Panic washed over me in waves, but I forced myself to breathe, my mind racing. I swallowed hard, the taste of copper on my tongue, and met her gaze. "Why did you help me?" My voice cracked despite my efforts to steady it. "What do you want from me?"
She took a step forward, her shadow stretching long across the floor. "Swear your loyalty to me."
"If I decide not to?" I shot back, though my voice trembled more than I intended.
Her eyes sharpened, and a faint tinge of irritation seeped into her tone. "Do you have a choice?"
I opened my mouth to retort, but she cut me off before I could speak. "I cannot stop you. Yet, you have nowhere to run. The guild has most likely cut you off and raided your little base. You also cannot leave the capital. The up-and-coming war has all the teleportation sites under heavy security with guards your little charm magic will mean nothing too. So, what is your choice?"
I swept my eyes across the room, searching desperately for an escape route, some kind of leverage. Nothing. "You're more misinformed about my guild than I thought," I said, my voice gaining a sliver of confidence. "They would never abandon me. After verifying I didn't spill any information by sweeping my memories, they'll take me back immediately."
Ophelia's expression remained unchanged. "Then I will not delay your escape any longer," she replied smoothly. "Please, take your leave. My servants will not hold you back or follow you."
Her calm demeanor set my teeth on edge, but I pushed myself to my feet, brushing off the dust clinging to my clothes. "Fine," I muttered, backing toward the door, my gaze still locked on her.
Just as my hand touched the door handle, her voice cut through the silence once more. "However, might I add a piece of advice? Attempting to escape by the teleporters is a much wiser choice than returning to your guild right now."
I hesitated, confusion flashing across my face. Her cryptic words lingered in my mind as I stepped through the door and out into the corridor. What looked to be Holy Knights and Ophelia's servants barely spared me a glance as I walked briskly toward the exit. Once outside, I broke into a sprint, my boots pounding against the cobblestone streets of the capital.
The Laughing Friday, a small bar, and the base of operations for the Black Trumpet was where I needed to head. I had to get back to the guild. They'd have answers.
The familiar sight of the small bar came into view, its weathered sign swaying in the night breeze. My heart hammered as I pushed through the door, the scent of alcohol and cheap tobacco hitting me like a wall. Inside, the bar was as normal as ever. A few patrons lounged at tables, and the bartender, an older man in a suit and tie, grinned at me from behind the counter.
"I'll have a Black Whiskey," I muttered.
"Of course, ma'am," he replied, his voice smooth.
I nodded and headed toward the women's restroom, slipping into the farthest stall. The floor beneath me should have shifted, dropping me into the guild's hidden base below. Instead… nothing.
I cursed under my breath, slamming my fist against the stall wall. "Incompetent bartender," I muttered, glaring at the floor. Then the building shook violently, nearly knocking me off my feet.
My breath caught as my surroundings trembled. Something was very, very wrong.
I sprinted out of the bathroom, my boots skidding slightly on the wet floor. The hallway outside was a frenzy of chaos. Dozens of Holy Knights swarmed the area, their heavy armor clinking as they tore through the bar relentlessly.
My breath caught when I spotted him. Royal Attendant Stegertath, his sly grin cutting through the tension like a knife, stood at the entrance to the bar. His gaze tracked the progress of his knights as they tore apart the floorboards, revealing a metal base beneath the bar.
My stomach churned.
Without hesitation, I turned back into the bathroom, my heart racing. My eyes locked on the lone window at the far end of the wall. I bolted toward it, threw it open, and without a second thought, jumped. The night air rushed past me, cold and biting, as I fell. I braced for impact, landing with a painful thud in a large trash dump below.
"Ugh…" I groaned, clutching my back. The ache radiated through my spine, but before I could dwell on it, a familiar buzzing sensation flared in my mind.
"Tridra!" a man's voice shouted, breaking through the static. "It seems you managed to escape but still, run! Don't come to the base! They've found us! Save yourself! Ah! No! STAY AWAY! NO! NO! ARGHHHHH!"
"Lox!" I screamed, scrambling to my feet. "Lox! Are you there?!" But the connection was gone. I glanced around the dark alley, my chest heaving. "Fuck. I have to get out of here."
Before I could move, the clanking of armor reached my ears. Holy Knights, materializing like shadows in the dim light, blocked my escape. I drew the hidden daggers that I had stashed in my boots, my fingers tightening around the hilts.
I launched into action, darting between them with quick, nimble movements. My blades danced, slicing shallow cuts where I could, but they were relentless. Their strikes were heavy, their coordination overwhelming, so my daggers soon were only used for defense.
My muscles burned, but I used the maze of streets to my advantage. Every alley, every corner became my weapon. For two agonizing hours, I dodged, slipped, and sprinted through the city until finally—finally—I lost them.
I leaned against a crumbling wall, my breath ragged. My legs trembled under me, and the city's quiet night felt almost mocking. I scanned the empty streets, passing the occasional drunkard who stumbled by, oblivious to my presence.
The thought of the teleportation centers crossed my mind, but it was suicide to approach one alone. Without my guild's resources, I had no chance of slipping past their defenses.
I pressed my palms to my temples, forcing myself to think. Where could I go? The answer hit me like a bolt of lightning—Ophelia. She hadn't harmed me before, and right now, I had nowhere else. I pushed off the wall and started running again, this time with a destination in mind.
It was nearly 3 AM when I reached her estate. The tall gates loomed before me, and for a moment, I hesitated. Then, a single maid appeared. Her long black hair and gray eyes glinted under her glasses as she opened the gate.
"Please follow me," she simply gestured.
I nodded, too exhausted to argue. She led me inside, the halls quiet due to the servants and prior Holy Knights most likely having gone to sleep. The dim light flickered off the polished floors as I followed her up a grand staircase to the second floor. She stopped before a set of ornate double doors, pushing them open without a word.
The room beyond took my breath away. A massive map dominated one wall, depicting the Holy Empire in intricate detail. Every territory and landmark was mapped out with stunning precision. And there, standing before it, was Ophelia, her silver hair catching the soft glow of the room's many candles.
The maid closed the doors behind me, leaving me alone with Ophelia… or so I thought.
My eyes swept the room again, landing on a woman in just her undergarments sprawled lazily on the grand bed. Her long golden hair shimmered, and her golden eyes flicked up from the book she was reading. She frowned lightly when she noticed me but said nothing.
Ophelia hardly acknowledged me, her attention fixed on the map. Her silence made the air in the room feel heavy, and I stood there. Just stood there…
I was unsure if I had just made the biggest mistake of my life.