The floor was a slab of ice against Cassius’s back. I stood in the suffocating darkness of the cell, the air thick with the scent of damp stone, and simply watched him breathe. It was the only proof he was still among the living. The oppressive blackness was broken by a single, cursed light source: the arcane markings etched into his arms. They snaked from his hand to his shoulder, pulsing with a low, malevolent orange light that cast dancing, monstrous shadows on the walls around us.

A single tear escaped the corner of his eye, a clean, silver track through the layers of grime coating his temple. A moment later, a sound ripped from his throat. It wasn’t a sob or a scream, but a choked, disbelieving laugh that was more terrifying than any sound of pain. It was the sound of a man staring into the abyss and finding it absurd.

His eyes, which had been squeezed shut against a world of agony, slowly cracked open. They were hollowed things, but they found me in the dark. He lifted a hand, the one no longer manacled to the wall, and flexed his fingers. The gesture was slow, foreign, as if he were commanding a body that had long since forgotten his commands.

“I can’t believe it,” he rasped, his voice a dry ruin, like stones grinding together. “The chains… they’re gone.”

With a surge of effort that made every muscle in his emaciated body tremble, he fought his way into a sitting position. I saw a faint blush climb his neck. His gaze met mine for a heartbeat before dropping to the grimy floor. He was ashamed. After everything he’d endured, he was ashamed to be weak in front of me.

“I…” He couldn’t finish. The word was a mountain he couldn’t scale. “I need help.”

“It’s okay,” I said, my voice coming out as a strained whisper. My own heart hammered against my ribs. I moved toward him, my boots scuffing softly on the stone. “I’ve got you, Cassius.”

How was I going to do this? He was a full two heads taller than me, and though he was thin, he was dense with muscle and bone. He was dead weight. I asked him to get to his knees, and the look he gave me was one of utter defeat, but he complied with a low groan. I knelt, sliding one arm under his chest, feeling the shocking heat of his skin through his tattered tunic. My other arm wrapped around his back, and I braced myself.

“On three,” I grunted, and together, we managed it. He swayed on his feet, a human tower about to collapse, and leaned so heavily into me I could feel the sharp line of his collarbone digging into my shoulder. The smell of sweat, grime, and long-term confinement filled my senses, but I held him tighter.

The corridor was a nightmare. Every shuffling step was an eternity. The guard at the entrance, a man whose face was a permanent sneer, watched our pathetic procession.

“I don’t understand why you’d bother with a broken thing,” he said, his voice loud in the echoing hall.

Broken? I thought with a flash of white-hot fury. This man has survived something that would have shattered you into a thousand pieces. You guard cages. He just escaped one.

“Don’t listen,” I whispered, my focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

“I’m not,” Cassius murmured into my hair. A lock of his surprisingly soft black hair fell across my arm. Ahead of us, a new enemy loomed: a grand flight of stairs. My knees, already trembling, threatened to give out entirely.

Just as a wave of true despair washed over me, the sharp, authoritative sound of footsteps descended from the landing. A figure emerged from the shadows, her form silhouetted against the light above. A breath I hadn’t realized I was holding rushed out of me.

Amelia. Of course. She never fails me.

“I’ve come to help, Princess,” she said, her voice calm and steady. She took Cassius’s other side without a word of judgment, her solid presence a balm to my frayed nerves.

With her support, the ascent was possible. We moved through the upper halls, a strange, three-headed creature shuffling through a world that hated us. I felt the stares of servants and guards like physical blows, looks of disgust and confusion. With every step, however, Cassius seemed to be pulling himself back from the brink, his weight becoming less of a burden and more that of a man learning to walk again.

My hand finally closed around a cool, brass doorknob. The door swung open, not into darkness, but into a warm, welcoming light. A sanctuary. Two queen beds with plush duvets stood waiting. Across the room, golden evening light poured through massive windows, illuminating the swirling dust motes like tiny fairies and painting the sky outside in strokes of fire and rose. The air smelled of clean linen.

We guided Cassius to the nearest bed. The frame groaned as he sat, and then he simply fell backward, his body surrendering to the mattress as if pulled down by the gravity of his own immense exhaustion. In the clear light of the room, he looked even younger than I’d thought. 

“Do you think you could manage a bath?” I asked, my voice gentle.

His eyes fluttered open. A ghost of a smile touched his lips, the first genuine expression I’d seen from him. “A bath,” he breathed. “That sounds… perfect.” Let him wash it all away, I pleaded internally. The dungeon, the chains, the despair. Let him be human again.

“I’ll see to it,” Amelia said, ever practical, and disappeared into the adjoining washroom.

Soon, the sound of rushing water filled the silence. After Amelia announced it was ready, Cassius stood with a new, quiet deliberation. He crossed to the bathroom, his movements still stiff but entirely his own, and clicked the door shut.

While Amelia went to find him clothes, I sank into a loveseat, my own muscles screaming in relief. He’s free. The thought was a single, bright star in the vast darkness of my current life. Losing my title, my future, the respect of others… it was all a worthy price for this one small victory. I lifted my right hand, watching a faint, shimmering mana coalesce in my palm. A dangerous, untamed power. One battle at a time, Thalia. First, he recovers. Then, we plan.

When Cassius emerged, he was transformed. Dressed in a simple white shirt and black pants, he was no longer a prisoner, but a man. The water had washed away the filth, revealing the pale skin, the sharp planes of his face, and the dark, stark bruises that marbled his skin. He smelled of soap and clean water. He crossed to the second bed and dropped onto it, the fatigue a visible weight on his shoulders.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, rising.

“Better,” he said, offering a tired but true smile. “More real than I’ve felt in a long, long time. I am tired, though.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling okay. I need to speak with Amelia,” I explained, gesturing to a connecting door. “Our rooms are joined. If you need anything, just come through. Avoid the hall. The people here are… not kind.”

“I noticed,” he said flatly. His eyes met mine, and the gratitude in them was a heavy, tangible thing. “Thank you, Thalia. I owe you a debt I can never repay.”

You don’t owe me a thing, I thought. “Cassius, you saved my life, and freedom isn’t a debt; it’s a right. Get some rest.”

“Goodnight,” he murmured, his eyes already closing.

I slipped through the connecting door. Amelia was already there, poised in a chair, waiting.

“A victory,” she said, her lips curving into a rare, genuine smile.

“A necessary one,” I replied, sinking into the chair opposite her. The brief moment of triumph evaporated as her expression turned serious. The air grew heavy again. We both sat in silence for a moment. 

“The King has summoned Dolion to the palace.”

The name landed like a stone in my gut. Dolion. My cousin. As cruel and ambitious as he was stupidly predictable. Of course my father would choose him. He was a perfect, loyal puppet.

“Already?” I asked, my voice flat.

“He is preparing his successor,” Amelia confirmed. “He won’t announce it for months, but the pieces are moving.”

I pressed my fingers to my temples, a headache blooming behind my eyes. Fine. “It doesn’t change our plan,” I said, my voice hardening with resolve. “In fact, it helps. Let them all stare at the glittering prize. Let Dolion preen for the court and have the target painted on his back. A crown is just a prettier cage.” My gaze drifted toward the door leading back to Cassius’s room. “Our work lies in the shadows. And it has already begun.”