The hours dragged by in the damp, echoing cell. A lone torch guttered in its sconce, its weak flame barely pushing back the violet glow of the moss-veined walls. Somewhere deeper in the ravine, a drumbeat pulsed — the steady rhythm of the queen's legion training above.
Eliakim sat cross-legged, feigning idle rest, but his ears were tuned to every murmur.
Two guards stood just beyond the bars, speaking in low Aelorian:"...they'll be moved before dawn.""Because of the queen's game?""No. Orders from someone higher. She's keeping them here for now — says the 'third moonfall' is when the gates open."
The phrase lodged in Eliakim's mind. Third moonfall. Some kind of operation, perhaps?
Caleb was leaning against the wall, eyes half-lidded, pretending to doze — but Eliakim saw the twitch of his fingers, the slow tapping against his thigh in a pattern. Three short, two long. A code.
Gideon noticed it too. "You want to share with the rest of the class, or—"Caleb opened one eye. "Not yet.""Of course not," Gideon muttered.
Ezra huffed in the corner, still simmering. "Just for the record? This is still the worst vacation ever."
Skyling was once again attempting to squeeze through the bars, fluffing itself indignantly when the guards nudged it back inside.
Night deepened. The fortress above quieted, replaced by the drip of water from the mossy ceiling. That was when the sound of boots came from the hall.
Captain Vaeryn Solthir stepped into the torchlight, his bone mask casting long shadows across the floor."Up," he said curtly.
One of the guards straightened. "The queen said—"
"The queen," Vaeryn interrupted, "doesn't see the whole board."
Something in his tone made the guard hesitate. Then, from the darker recesses of the corridor, shadows shifted — and figures emerged. Dark Elves, their armor lacquered black, eyes glinting like shards of obsidian. They moved like water, silent but unmistakably predatory.
Vaeryn turned slightly, raising one gloved hand.
A hiss filled the air — pshhhhh — as a cluster of glass spheres was hurled into the cell. They shattered, releasing a pale, almost shimmering smoke that rolled low along the floor.
Ezra coughed, staggering. Gideon cursed, bracing himself against the wall. Skyling fluttered wildly, wings beating the haze. Caleb's eyes narrowed, but his movements slowed as if the dizziness were pulling at his limbs.
Eliakim let his head loll to one side, his breaths shallow and uneven. Beneath his sleeve, the Bracelet of Umbravice thrummed faintly, the subtle magic filtering the air before it reached his lungs. His mind stayed razor-sharp.
Let's see where this goes.
The smoke curled around their ankles, carrying the faint scent of crushed nightbloom petals — a known paralytic in some elven poisons.
Vaeryn's gaze swept over them once. "Take them."
Chains clinked, boots scraped, and cold hands seized their arms.
But they did not march toward the inner lifts that led back to the queen's court. Instead, they were led to a narrow, root-twined tunnel at the far end of the prison — one that sloped downward into the deeper dark.
Eliakim noted every turn, every shift in the air, filing it away in his mental map.
This wasn't the path to the Dark Elf castle prison either.
Vaeryn walked ahead, his voice carrying just enough to reach Eliakim's ears:"They'll never see it coming."