"Are you awake?"
The smell hit me first meat, cooking somewhere nearby. My stomach growled, but the hunger was quickly pushed aside by confusion. Where was I? The last thing I remembered was heading north, and then... nothing. Just darkness.
I opened my eyes to see a man sitting across from me, watching me like I was some kind of prey. But if he wanted me dead, I'd already be dead. That much was clear.
"Where am I? And who are you?" I asked, my voice rough.
The man didn't answer right away. His eyes darted around the room, checking every corner like he expected something to jump out at us. The place looked fancy expensive couches, intricate tapestries, and a chandelier that probably cost more than my entire family's estate. Not that it mattered to me anymore. I'd lost all that a long time ago.
"I don't know where we are," he finally said, his voice low and quick. "And I don't think asking about me is the best thing to do right now."
Cryptic. Great. Just what I needed.
He pointed to a plate of food on the table. "I cooked some meat for you. It might help with the hunger."
I eyed the food. I didn't know this guy, and I didn't trust him. But I was starving, and if he wanted to poison me, he'd had plenty of chances already. I grabbed the plate and started eating. The meat was bland, but it was better than nothing.
"So," I said between bites, "can you at least tell me your name, Mr. Mysterious?"
He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "The Drifter."
"The Drifter?" I raised an eyebrow. "That's a name? Or are you just bad at introductions?"
He didn't respond, and I couldn't help but smirk. This guy was like a brick wall silent, unyielding, and probably just as dense.
"Arthur Rocks," I said, leaning back. "You've heard of my family, right?"
Silence. Not even a flicker of recognition. Either he was playing dumb, or he genuinely didn't care. Either way, it was annoying.
Typical, I thought. No one remembers the Rocks anymore. Not that it matters. I'm not part of that family anyway. Sold my name, my title, everything. Funny how quickly people forget.
I took another bite of the bland meat, my mind wandering. The fancy room reminded me of Athera the big castle, the House of Nobles, the endless parties where everyone pretended to like each other. I didn't miss it. Well, maybe the food. They had this honey fruit dish from Onia sweet, tangy, absolutely delicious. I'd kill for some right now.
The Drifter stood up suddenly, his movements quick and deliberate. He didn't say a word, just headed for the door. I hesitated for a moment, then followed. What else was I supposed to do? Sit around and wait for something to happen?
The hallway outside was even fancier than the room we'd been in. Marble floors, gold trim, and paintings that probably cost a fortune. It felt like a castle, but something about it was... off. Like it didn't belong in this world.
As we walked, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. The Drifter didn't seem to notice or maybe he just didn't care. He moved like a shadow, silent and swift, always a step ahead.
This place could use some color, I thought, glancing at the gloomy walls. A few paintings from Onia would brighten it up. Kael's work, maybe. Brilliant guy. Shame I'll probably never see his art again.
We reached a staircase that led to a dead end. I frowned, but the Drifter didn't hesitate. He walked straight up the stairs and wait, what? He disappeared through the ceiling. I blinked, wondering if the hunger was making me hallucinate.
"Well," I muttered, "when in doubt, follow the creepy guy."
I climbed the stairs and stepped through the ceiling, half expecting to hit my head. Instead, I found myself in a kitchen. The smell of chicken soup and honey fruit filled the air, making my mouth water. But strangely, I wasn't hungry anymore. That bland meat must've done the trick.
The Drifter was already moving toward the next wall, but I couldn't resist. I reached for the pot on the table, only to freeze when I heard his voice.
"Don't."
I looked up to see him staring at me, his expression unreadable. "Why not? You're not eating it."
He didn't answer, he just turned and walked through the wall. I sighed and followed. This place was getting weirder by the minute.
The next room was massive a throne room, by the looks of it. The throne itself was enormous, far too big for a human. It loomed over the room like a silent guardian, its presence both awe-inspiring and unsettling.
The Drifter stopped in front of a golden line on the floor and turned to me. "Have you ever wielded a sword before, Arthur?"
I smirked. "Yeah, and not just any sword. I'm an expert. You really haven't heard of my family, have you?"
He ignored the jab, his gaze steady. "Your family name won't matter if you die here. Many before you have died in this castle and never saw the outside again."
I raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like a fun crowd. What happened to them? Did they get bored and leave, or did the castle eat them?"
He didn't answer, just pointed to the golden line. "The moment we cross this, we'll be fighting monsters unlike anything you've seen before. Our goal is to defend the throne. If you fail, you die. And one last thing-" He paused, his voice dropping. "-when you hear the sound of lightning, do not look at the throne. Do you understand?"
I grinned. "Sure. Don't die, don't look at the throne. Got it."
Many before you have died in this castle, I repeated in my head. What happened to them? Did they trip over their own swords? Get scared of the dark? Or did the monsters actually live up to the hype? I glanced at the Drifter. He's not exactly the type to give details. Guess I'll find out soon enough.
We crossed the line, and the room went dark. The whispers started almost immediately, soft and insidious, like they were trying to crawl into my mind. I gripped the sword in my hand, my heart pounding but my mind clear.
Wait sword? When did I get a sword?
I looked down and realized I was holding a blade, its hilt cool and familiar in my grip. The weight felt right like it was made for me. And not just that I was wearing armor now, too. Light but sturdy, like it had been tailored to my frame. I glanced at the Drifter and saw he was similarly equipped, his dark armor blending into the shadows.
Well, that's convenient, I thought. One second I'm unarmed, the next I'm ready for battle. Magic castle, I guess? Or maybe the Drifter's got a few tricks up his sleeve. Either way, I'm not complaining.
The whispers grew louder, and I caught a glimpse of movement in the shadows too many limbs, too many eyes. The monsters were coming. But just as I raised my sword, I heard it, the sound of lightning, sharp and deafening. The Drifter's warning echoed in my mind: Don't look at the throne.
I didn't. But I couldn't help but wonder... what was so dangerous about a throne?