The cell was quiet except for the faint hum of torchlight flickering in the corridors beyond. Changra leaned against the rough stone wall, his head tilted back, his gaze unfocused. Jane sat beside him, her hand resting lightly on her knee as she stayed close, the silence between them fragile but steady.
The clanking of boots against the stone floor echoed faintly in the distance, growing louder with each step. Jane turned her head toward the sound, her eyes narrowing slightly. Changra didn't move, though a faint smirk played on his lips.
"Let me guess," he said lazily. "More five-star accommodations? Maybe a complimentary pillow this time?"
Jane sighed, shaking her head softly, but before she could respond, the sound of familiar voices reached them.
"Oi! Open up! We gotta see 'im!" Thorne's boisterous tone carried down the corridor, his words accompanied by the heavy clank of his boots.
"Thorne," a softer, more composed voice followed. "We're already here. You don't need to shout."
The cell door groaned as it opened, revealing Thorne and Aria standing side by side. Thorne's broad frame barely fit through the doorway, while Aria stood with her arms crossed, her sharp green eyes fixed on Changra.
"Well, if it ain't the big man himself," Changra said with a faint chuckle, his voice carrying a mock cheer. "Thorne, I hope you're here to bail me out. I promise, next time, I'll skip the shoplifting and just pay for the candy."
Thorne blinked, his brow furrowing. "Shopliftin'? What's that mean?" he asked, his tone genuinely puzzled.
"It's like stealin', but lazier," Changra quipped, waving a hand in the air. "Real low-effort crime. Big hit back on Earth."
Aria sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Changra, you're being exiled," she said flatly. "Do you think this is really the time to joke?"
Changra shrugged, his smirk unwavering. "Gotta lighten the mood somehow, right? Besides, if I'm gonna be kicked out of this magical utopia, I might as well get a laugh out of it."
Thorne stepped closer, his expression serious but his voice soft. "Ain't fair what they're doin' to ya," he said. "I told 'em! You ain't no monster. You're just—uh…" He paused, searching for the words. "You're just a guy tryin' his best, y'know?"
Changra raised an eyebrow, glancing at Jane. "You hear that? Thorne's got my back. Next thing you know, he'll be writing poetry about me."
Thorne scratched the back of his head, his face reddening. "I mean, I could try, but I'm not real good with words…"
Jane hid a faint smile behind her hand, while Aria let out an exasperated sigh. "Thorne," she said, her tone gentle but firm, "I think you're proving his point."
Changra chuckled, leaning back against the wall again. "Don't worry, big guy. You've already written the best poem of all: 'Roses are red, violets are blue, if Changra's exiled, I'll miss him too.'"
Aria's lips twitched, though she quickly masked it with a stern look. "This isn't a game, Changra," she said. "You're leaving everything behind. Don't you care?"
The smirk faltered for just a moment, a flicker of something deeper crossing his face. "Care?" he repeated softly. "Yeah, I care. But what's caring gonna change?"
The room fell silent for a beat, the weight of his words settling over them. Jane's hand tightened slightly on her knee, her gaze flicking toward Changra.
Thorne broke the silence, his voice filled with conviction. "You're gonna make it, Changra," he said firmly. "I know you will. Ain't no way you're gonna let 'em win."
Changra tilted his head, his smirk returning faintly. "Appreciate the vote of confidence, Thorne. Maybe I'll send you a postcard from wherever I end up."
Aria rolled her eyes but stepped closer, her voice softer. "You're not alone in this, Changra," she said. "We'll be here… if you ever need us."
Changra's gaze flicked between them, his smirk remaining but his eyes betraying a hint of gratitude. "Thanks," he said, his tone lighter but sincere. "You guys really know how to make a guy feel special."
The cell seemed quieter after Thorne and Aria left, their words of encouragement lingering in the air like faint echoes. Changra leaned back against the wall, his smirk ever-present as he stared at the uneven stone ceiling. Jane sat beside him, her hands fidgeting in her lap, her expression conflicted.
"Well," Changra said, breaking the silence, "that was touching. I half-expected Thorne to bust out into some big speech about friendship and throw in a group hug. Really missed an opportunity for dramatic flair."
Jane glanced at him, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Changra," she said softly, "this isn't—"
"—a joke? Yeah, I've heard that one before," he cut in, his smirk growing. "But hey, if I'm gonna be the exiled magical reject, I might as well get some laughs while I'm at it. Maybe they'll give me a nice banner on the way out. Something like, 'Good luck! Don't die!'"
Before Jane could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor again. The heavy door creaked open, revealing Elara Windwhisper and Merrick. Their expressions were serious, though Elara's gaze softened slightly when it landed on Jane and Changra.
"Elara," Jane said immediately, standing and stepping forward. "You have to let me go with him."
Elara blinked, caught off guard by the sudden plea. "Jane, that's—"
"I can't just let him go out there alone!" Jane continued, her voice trembling. "He doesn't even know this world. He'll—he'll die out there!"
Changra let out a low whistle, leaning his head back against the wall. "Wow, Jane. Thanks for the motivational speech. Really feelin' the optimism over here."
She turned to him, her brow furrowing. "Changra, stop," she said, her tone sharper than usual. "This isn't the time for jokes."
He raised an eyebrow, his smirk unwavering. "Jane, if not now, when? You think exile comes with stand-up comedy shows? I've got to keep my skills sharp."
Elara stepped closer, her expression firm but understanding. "Jane, I know you care," she said gently. "But this isn't a decision we can change. The vote was final. He has to go alone."
Jane shook her head, her hands clenching into fists. "I don't care what the vote was," she said. "I'm not just going to let him—"
"Jane," Merrick interrupted, his deep voice calm but steady. "Think about what you're saying. You'd be exiling yourself too. This isn't just about helping him—it's about leaving everything behind."
"I don't care!" she said, her voice rising. "He saved my life. He's my friend. I can't just abandon him."
Changra chuckled softly, drawing their attention back to him. "Aw, Jane," he said lightly. "Didn't know you cared so much. Next thing you know, you'll be writing me a tearful farewell letter. 'Dear Changra, the dungeon isn't the same without you. P.S. The food still sucks.'"
Merrick sighed, shaking his head. "Do you ever stop joking, lad?"
"Not if I can help it," Changra replied, his smirk widening. "Gotta keep the audience entertained. Even if it's just me."
Elara crossed her arms, her gaze softening as she addressed Jane. "I understand your loyalty," she said quietly. "But this isn't about you. It's about him. He has to face this alone."
Jane's shoulders slumped, her gaze dropping to the floor. "But what if he doesn't make it?" she whispered, her voice breaking.
Changra's smirk faltered for just a moment before returning, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Hey," he said, his tone lighter. "If I don't make it, at least I'll leave behind an inspiring story, right? The tragic tale of Changra, the guy who couldn't catch a break. Pretty catchy, don't you think?"
Elara exhaled, placing a hand on Jane's shoulder. "He's stronger than you think," she said. "Give him the chance to prove it—to himself and to the world."
Jane didn't respond, her hands trembling as she stepped back. Merrick stepped forward, his steady gaze locked on Changra. "You've got a tough road ahead, lad," he said. "But remember this: you're not alone. No matter where you go, you've got people here who believe in you."
Changra tilted his head, his smirk softening. "People who believe in me, huh?" he said lightly. "That's a new one. I'll try not to let it go to my head."
Merrick let out a low chuckle, though his eyes were filled with sadness. "Take care of yourself, Changra."
Elara nodded, her gaze lingering on him. "And don't lose hope," she said softly. "You're more capable than you realize."
With that, they turned and left, the sound of their footsteps fading into the corridor. The heavy door creaked shut, leaving Changra and Jane alone once more.
The silence after Elara and Merrick's departure was heavy, settling over the cell like a suffocating shroud. Changra sat with his knees pulled up slightly, his head resting against the rough stone wall. Jane remained beside him, her posture tense as she stared at him, her hands fidgeting nervously.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
"You're awfully quiet," Changra finally said, his voice low but steady. "That's not like you. What happened to all the 'everything's going to be okay' speeches?"
Jane glanced at him, her lips parting as if to respond, but no words came out. Instead, she leaned forward slightly, her eyes searching his face. "Changra…" she began softly, her voice trembling.
He turned his head toward her, his usual smirk absent. "Yeah?" he said, his tone uncharacteristically serious.
She hesitated, her hands clasping together tightly. "I just… I need to know," she said. "Do you really think you're going to be okay out there? Alone?"
Changra exhaled, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Honestly?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know. Probably not. But what choice do I have?"
"You have me," Jane said firmly, her voice gaining strength. "You don't have to do this alone. I'll find a way to go with you—"
"Jane," Changra interrupted, his voice sharper than intended. He closed his eyes briefly before looking at her again, his expression softening. "You can't. You've got a life here. People who care about you. Don't throw all that away for someone like me."
Her breath hitched, and she leaned closer to him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I care about you," she whispered. "Don't you understand that?"
Changra's eyes widened slightly, and he shifted uncomfortably. "Jane…"
She leaned in further, her face just inches from his. Her voice was barely audible now, trembling with emotion. "You're not just someone, Changra. You're…"
He pulled away suddenly, the movement sharp and abrupt. "I… I need to go," he said, his voice tight. He stood quickly, his back turned to her as he ran a hand through his hair.
Jane froze, her heart pounding as her gaze lingered on him. Her lips parted as if to say something, but before she could, the heavy sound of approaching footsteps interrupted them.
The cell door creaked open, and Aetterus Voss stepped inside. His smirk was as infuriatingly casual as ever, a small bag dangling from one hand. "Well, well," he drawled, his hazel eyes glinting with amusement. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything… intimate."
Changra turned to face him, his expression guarded. "Perfect timing," he said flatly. "What do you want?"
Aetterus chuckled, stepping closer as he held up the bag. "Oh, nothing much. Just delivering a little parting gift. Call it… a survival kit." He jingled the keys in his other hand and unlocked the cell door with an exaggerated flourish. "Time to spread your wings, little bird."
The door to the cell groaned shut as Jane's footsteps echoed down the corridor. The sound of her leaving lingered, a hollow ache in the now silent space. Changra sat against the wall, his expression guarded as he eyed Aetterus, who turned toward him with a slow, deliberate smirk.
"Well, Changra," Aetterus said, his voice low and silkily smooth, "it's just us now. Alone at last."
Changra's lip curled into a faint smirk of his own. "Great. Always wanted some one-on-one time with the guy who makes me question my life choices."
Aetterus chuckled, stepping closer with an unsettling grace. His hazel eyes glinted with something dark, predatory, as he examined Changra. "Oh, your choices intrigue me, little bird. But not nearly as much as your power."
Changra shifted, his posture stiffening. "You keep calling me that. Starting to think you've got a thing for caged animals."
Aetterus's smile widened, his teeth flashing in the dim torchlight. "Caged? No, no. You're not caged. You're wild. Untamed. And that's what makes you fascinating."
He crouched down in front of Changra, the closeness making the air feel heavier. His voice dropped to a near-whisper, each word dripping with an unsettling pride. "Do you know what you are, Changra? You're chaos. Beautiful, raw, unrefined chaos. And I… I want it."
Changra's eyes narrowed, his smirk faltering. "You've got a real creepy way of complimenting people," he said, his voice tight. "Ever thought about toning it down? Just a suggestion."
Aetterus laughed, the sound soft and sharp all at once. "Why should I? I am who I am. Just as you are what you are. And I see it, even if you don't. That dagger, that power inside you… it's magnificent. A storm waiting to devour everything in its path."
Changra leaned back, trying to put some distance between them. "You've got a weird idea of flattery, Aetterus."
Aetterus tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous amusement. "Oh, I'm not trying to flatter you, little bird. I'm simply stating the truth. You're a tempest, and tempests don't last long. They burn bright and die fast. Unless, of course…" He stood abruptly, his tone turning light, almost playful. "...they're guided by the right hands."
Changra's fists clenched. "Let me guess. Yours?"
Aetterus's smirk grew impossibly wider, and he turned toward the cell door. "You're a clever one, aren't you? Come. Your stage awaits."
He gestured for Changra to follow, the bag in his hand swinging lazily with each step. Reluctantly, Changra stood, his unease growing as he followed Aetterus down the dimly lit corridor. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the echo of their footsteps.
When they reached the guild walls, the chill night air hit Changra like a slap. The vast expanse of the world stretched out before him, the stars above cold and distant. Aetterus stopped at the edge, turning to face him with a flourish.
"Quite the view, don't you think?" Aetterus said, spreading his arms. "The world is so… vast. And yet, here you stand. Small. Insignificant. A mere speck of dust on the winds of fate."
Changra's jaw tightened, but he forced a smirk. "You sure know how to make a guy feel special."
Aetterus stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low purr. "Oh, you're special, Changra. But not for the reasons you think." He reached out, his hand brushing against the empty space near Changra's arm, as if feeling for something invisible. "That power inside you—it's alive. Pulsing. Hungry. And one day… I'll claim it for myself."
Before Changra could respond, Aetterus's hand shot out, gripping his shoulder with an unnatural strength. "But for now," he said, his smirk turning razor-sharp, "fly, little bird."
A surge of magic crackled through the air as Aetterus flung Changra into the night sky with impossible force. The wind roared in Changra's ears as the world became a blur of stars and darkness. The ground rushed up to meet him, and he braced for impact.
The collision was bone-rattling, the earth beneath him cracking from the force. For a moment, Changra lay still, the breath knocked from his lungs. But as the dust settled, he realized he was alive. A faint, shimmering aura faded from his body—a protective spell, no doubt placed by Aetterus.
Groaning, Changra pushed himself onto his elbows, his vision swimming. In the distance, he could faintly hear a voice, low and mocking.
"New record!" Aetterus called, his laughter ringing out like a haunting melody before fading into silence.