In the stillness of the night, deep inside the base, Lucas sat alone in the barn, staring at the tilted ceiling and scattered hay around him.
Fear gnawed at his chest, his eyes full of worry.
"I can't face him… No, I can't do it…"
He meant Gerald — the fearsome commander he was supposed to report to.
But he wasn't ready… not now, not ever.
Suddenly, he stood up, muttering to himself in a shaky whisper:
"I can be anyone… Yeah… Don't worry, Lucas… You'll escape… You'll see Peter again… Everything will be fine…"
With a nervous smile, he activated his ability, shifting his appearance little by little into the form of one of the boys he'd seen around the base — a quiet kid who drew no attention.
Once he'd completely changed, he slowly opened the barn door and slipped out into the darkness.
As soon as he was a safe distance away, he hurried toward the equipment shed, rummaging through crates until he found a worn-out knight's uniform.
He threw it on quickly — a light helmet, leather gloves, and a faded sash.
"Perfect… Now no one will suspect a thing… I just need to reach the gate, and I'm gone."
But — just one step before he could reach the exit…
"Where do you think you're going?"
The voice came from behind, cold and sharp — like the night itself had spoken.
Lucas froze in place.
He turned around slowly, blood draining from his face.
Gerald stood in the shadows, watching him.
"Oh—uh… Me? I was just… just heading out for some fresh air!"
Gerald took a few steps forward, eyes narrowing as he examined the ridiculous disguise.
"Interesting… Michael brought back some worms from the field… I thought you liked them. Aren't they your favorite?"
"WORMS?!"
"Who the hell eats worms?!"
Lucas thought, but forced a trembling smile.
"Oh… well… I'm actually full. Completely stuffed!"
"Rejecting a gift from your commander? After he went out of his way just for you?"
"N-No! Of course not… I just—"
"Follow me."
Lucas had no choice. He followed Gerald, cursing himself every step of the way.
They arrived at a small open area behind the shed, where a large, muddy bowl sat — filled with twitching field worms.
The smell? Absolutely vile.
"Go on." Gerald crossed his arms.
"Eat."
"Ah… Sure… Of course… But maybe in a bit?"
"Now."
Lucas hesitantly reached in, grabbed one, and brought it to his lips.
He closed his eyes and placed it on his tongue…
Within a second, he spit it out and started gagging violently.
There was a pause — and then a wicked, mocking smile from Gerald:
"Who eats worms, you idiot?"
Lucas looked up with teary eyes, horrified.
"He… he knew… and still made me eat it!"
But Gerald wasn't finished.
He leaned in and said in a calm, icy voice:
"Sleeping outside the barn won't be an option anymore after this stunt."
"W-Wait! You can't! I really can't stay in there!"
"If you'd just followed orders… you wouldn't be in this mess."
——-
A quiet chamber within the castle—not a prison cell, but far from comfortable.
Peter sat on the ground, leaning against the cold wall.
His clothes were stained with dust, and his eyes dim with exhaustion.
No chains bound him, but he knew well—he was a prisoner.
The only window was tightly sealed… and the silence was suffocating.
The door creaked open slowly.
Footsteps entered—measured, calm.
A tall man stepped into the room. Regal posture. Cold silver eyes.
Elegant white hair swept back.
Valerian.
He stood still, watching Peter silently before speaking in a low, unreadable voice:
"You… are his brother."
Peter raised his eyes slowly, saying nothing.
"Lucas… the little shapeshifter," he added, almost amused.
"Thought he was clever enough to fool us. He nearly did."
His tone was calm. Too calm.
"Gerald made him eat worms… Imagine that."
Peter's eyes widened. His voice rose, laced with anger:
"Why are you treating him like that?! Lucas doesn't deserve this!"
"And what do you deserve, thief?"
Valerian's voice remained soft, almost like he was genuinely asking.
"I treat you as you should be treated. Yet, as you can see…"
He smiled faintly.
"I'm merciful."
Peter stood abruptly, chest rising and falling.
"Are the others okay?! Sera? Nereus?!"
Valerian turned his face slightly away, as if bored with the panic.
"Nereus? The blind one? Loren says he's… the easiest to tame."
"And no, we weren't ordered to kill anyone."
Peter took a half-step back, his voice quieter:
"Tame…?"
Valerian tilted his head ever so slightly, finally seeming interested.
"Tell me, Peter…"
"What village are you from?"
Peter hesitated.
"…From behind the Black Mountains."
"Hmm. I thought so."
He took a step closer.
"And you… Do you have it too? A curse? Like your brother?"
Peter shook his head.
"No. I can't shapeshift like he can.
My mother told me I'm… different.
That the curse didn't touch me the same way."
Valerian leaned in slightly, intrigued.
"Different? How?"
Peter paused, reluctant—then spoke:
"The curse… changed.
Instead of deforming me, it protected me.
My body regenerates."
"Regenerates?"
He raised an eyebrow, voice skeptical.
"Any wound… anything torn off… it grows back.
My arm, my eye, even if I'm torn apart—my body restores itself."
A heavy silence fell between them.
Valerian didn't respond at first. He stared at Peter like he was reading a puzzle—
then suddenly, he smiled.
"Hmm…"
He drew a small dagger from beneath his cloak, metal whispered as it left the sheath—cold and deliberate.
"Then let's test that."
"What—"
Before Peter could finish,
Valerian drove the dagger straight into his left eye and yanked it out with one smooth motion.
Peter screamed.
He fell to the floor, writhing, clutching his face as blood poured from the socket.
But only moments later—
Flesh began to twist.
The eye began to form again.
As if it had never been torn out.
Peter gasped for breath, rage and pain flooding his voice:
"What the hell is wrong with you?! You're insane!!"
Valerian crouched slightly, voice soft like a whisper:
"But now I know for sure…"
"You're not just a thief."
He stood upright again, turning away,
a calm—yet dangerous—smile on his face.