The Chains of a Legend
The Alcardian prison was a fortress carved into the side of a jagged mountain, its towers looming ominously over the landscape. Its iron gates groaned open as the prisoners were marched inside, their faces gaunt with defeat. The air was cold and damp, filled with the faint stench of decay.
Everett was the last to enter, his shackles clinking against the stone floor. Around him, other prisoners—former imperial soldiers—shot him wary glances. They had fought alongside him, seen his power, and now found themselves in the same wretched state.
The guards led the prisoners through dimly lit corridors, their torches casting long, flickering shadows. They shoved them into cells, one by one, until only Everett remained.
The Legend in Chains
"Take him to the last cell," one guard ordered, his voice tinged with unease.
Two heavily armed guards flanked Everett as they led him deeper into the prison. The air grew colder with each step, and the cells became larger, reinforced with steel bars and magical wards. It was clear this section was reserved for the most dangerous captives.
At the end of the corridor stood a massive iron door. One of the guards unlocked it with a heavy key, and the door creaked open to reveal a barren cell. The walls were lined with enchanted runes that glowed faintly, designed to suppress any use of magic.
The guards forced Everett inside, chaining him to the wall with thick steel bindings. Each chain was inscribed with runes, ensuring even someone of his power couldn't break free.
The Weight of Defeat
As the guards secured the last shackle, one of them muttered under his breath, "To think this is the Demon of the Empire. Doesn't look so terrifying now."
Another guard scoffed. "A legend, they called him. He's just a man."
But their words couldn't hide the fear in their eyes as they backed away, slamming the cell door shut.
Everett didn't respond. He sat against the cold stone wall, his head bowed and his wrists heavy with chains. He could feel the weight of the magical runes pressing down on him, draining him of strength.
The silence of the cell was deafening, broken only by the occasional drip of water from the ceiling. For the first time in years, Everett was completely alone—with no orders to follow, no battles to fight, and no one to protect.
Whispers of Hatred
The other prisoners, crammed into nearby cells, began to murmur. Their voices carried down the corridor, growing louder as their anger simmered.
"He's the reason we're here," one spat.
"Should've fought harder, demon," another growled.
A soldier from Everett's regiment slammed his fist against the bars of his cell. "We trusted you! You were supposed to save us!"
Everett's eyes remained fixed on the floor. He didn't react, didn't defend himself. Their words cut deep, but he knew they weren't wrong.
The whispers turned to jeers, the prisoners venting their rage and despair on the man they had once revered.
A Guard's Perspective
Outside the cell, two guards stood watch, their conversation hushed.
"I don't understand why we didn't just kill him," one said, glancing nervously toward Everett's cell. "It's not like he's any use to us alive."
The other guard shrugged. "Orders from the matriarch. She wants him alive, at least for now. Probably wants to make an example of him."
"Still… I've heard stories about him. What if he breaks free?"
The second guard laughed, though it lacked conviction. "Not with those chains and runes. Besides, look at him. He's broken."
Alone in the Darkness
As the hours dragged on, Everett's mind drifted back to the battlefield. The screams of the dying echoed in his ears, mingling with the laughter of the Alcardian commander. He had fought with everything he had, but it hadn't been enough.
He thought of the emperor's desperate face, the soldiers who had fallen because they relied on him too much, and the imperial city reduced to ashes.
He clenched his fists, the chains rattling softly. Was he a failure, or had he been doomed from the start?
For the first time in years, Everett allowed himself to feel the weight of his choices. The hatred he had once directed at monsters now turned inward, consuming him from within.
A Visitor
As the moon rose high above the prison, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the corridor. The guards straightened as a figure emerged from the shadows—a tall, robed Alcardian officer.
The officer stopped in front of Everett's cell, his face obscured by a hood. He studied the prisoner for a long moment before speaking.
"So, this is the weapon that kept the empire standing for so long," he said, his tone laced with disdain. "Not so invincible now, are you?"
Everett didn't respond.
The officer chuckled. "The matriarch will decide your fate soon enough. But if it were up to me, I'd end you here and now."
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Everett alone once more.
The Dawn of Uncertainty
As dawn broke over the mountains, Everett remained chained in the darkness of his cell. The jeers of the other prisoners had faded into silence, replaced by the occasional sob or whispered prayer.
Everett closed his eyes, letting the cold seep into his bones. He didn't know what awaited him in Alcardia's hands, but one thing was certain. His life, his purpose, and his identity had been stripped away.
For the first time, he wasn't sure if he wanted to fight anymore.