The moment Marius's footsteps faded into silence, the walls seemed to close in tighter. The humming of the runes pressed against Chase's skull like a swarm of wasps. His cell, a mirror box of obsidian and magic, was meant to break him—not with brute force, but with silence and time.
But he wasn't broken yet.
Chase sat against the cold stone, every muscle aching, his body refusing to cooperate. His magic—the thing that once roared inside him—was a whisper now, suppressed, leeched away by the enchantments embedded in the walls. But he could still feel it. Distant. Dormant. Waiting.
I've survived worse, he thought. And I'm not done yet.
A faint, metallic click echoed from the cell door.
He tensed.
The door creaked open slowly, like something from a horror movie, and for a moment, he expected more masked Council agents, maybe another cruel experiment, another speech from Marius.
But it wasn't that.
A girl stepped into view—young, maybe sixteen. She wore the same uniform and silver mask as the others, but hers was cracked, a jagged fracture down the middle. She hesitated in the doorway like she wasn't sure if she was walking into a lion's den—or releasing one.
"You're awake," she said quietly, voice barely above a whisper.
"No kidding." Chase struggled to stand, leaning against the wall for support. "You here to give me a bedtime story or stab me in the ribs?"
She flinched. "I'm here to help you."
He raised an eyebrow. "You're Council."
"Not anymore," she said, stepping inside. She peeled the mask off slowly, revealing a pale face streaked with old burn scars and eyes full of guilt.
"They'll kill me if they find out I did this," she said. "But I couldn't watch anymore. What they're doing to you—to people like you—it's wrong."
Chase's eyes narrowed. "People like me?"
"Hybrids. Magical anomalies. Vampires with spellcasting capabilities. The Council calls you 'unstable assets.' I've seen what they do to assets."
She reached into her cloak and handed him a small obsidian shard etched with golden runes. The moment it touched his skin, it burned hot—his magic stirred, breaking through the haze like lightning cracking the sky.
He inhaled sharply as the pain faded and his strength began to return in sparks and jolts. He wasn't at full power, but it was enough. Enough to fight. Enough to escape.
"They're transferring you," she said. "To a lab under the Citadel. You don't want to go there. No one comes back."
"Why are you helping me?" Chase asked, his voice low.
She didn't answer right away.
Then, quietly: "Because the last one like you… he begged for death before they were done. And I couldn't help him."
Something cold settled in Chase's gut. He clenched the shard tightly. "Then let's make sure I don't end up like him."
The girl nodded and turned toward the corridor. "This way. Stay close. I disabled the outer wards, but they'll notice something's wrong soon."
As they crept into the hall, Chase glanced back at the obsidian cell one last time. A prison of magic, lies, and fear. He would burn it all to ash if he could.
Not just for himself. For Alora. For the other victims. For anyone who had ever been chained by power-hungry monsters behind silver masks.
The storm inside him was building again.
And this time, he wasn't holding back.