Chapter 103 - I promise.
"More than most," Ava admitted. "But even I don't know its full potential. That's why I protect it. That's why I can't let it fall into the wrong hands."
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Cillian studied her face, searching for any sign of deception. "So what now? You expect me to just hand it over and walk away?"
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Ava's eyes met his, unflinching. "No. I expect you to make a choice. Join me, help me protect it. Or try to take it for yourself and face the consequences."
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Cillian felt the weight of the moment pressing down on him. Everything he'd been raised to believe, everything he thought he knew about the war and his family's place in it, seemed to hang in the balance. He took a deep breath, steadying himself.
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"I need to know more," he said finally. "Before I make any decisions."
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Ava nodded, a hint of approval in her eyes. "Smart boy. But we don't have much time. Your family, the Alizahs - they'll be looking for us soon."
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As if on cue, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor. Cillian tensed, his sword at the ready. Ava's hand shot out, gripping his arm.
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"Last chance, Cillian," she hissed. "Are you in, or out?"
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Cillian hesitated for a split second, then nodded. "I'm in. But this better not be a trick."
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Ava's grin was fierce. "Oh, it's no trick. But you might wish it was before this is over."
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With that, she pulled him towards a hidden panel in the wall. As they slipped through, Cillian couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just stepped off the edge of a cliff. Whatever came next, there was no going back now.
As Ava pulled Cillian through the hidden panel, a blinding light engulfed them.
When Cillian's vision cleared, he found himself standing in the grand hall of the Fortress of Ossa. The abrupt transition left him momentarily disoriented.
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Before him stood three figures: Richard, Roxana, and Medea.
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Suddenly, Ava's hand shot towards Cillian's mouth, a bottle of purple liquid clutched in her grip. Before he could react, she forced the contents down his throat. The purple liquid burned as it slid down, causing his body to jolt violently.
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Azone knights sprang into action, throwing chains around Cillian. He struggled against their hold, but the potion's effects were immediate. His strength waned, his powers destabilized - the same concoction that had been used on Luxana. Cillian's very sense of self began to slip away, dissolving into a haze of confusion and weakness.
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With a final, desperate attempt to break free, Cillian's legs gave out. He collapsed to the floor, consciousness fading rapidly.
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Roxana stepped forward, a cold smile on her face as she tapped Ava's shoulder. "Excellent work," she said, her voice laced with satisfaction.
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Medea approached next, her eyes fixed on the artifact. "Hand over the jewel now," she demanded.
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Ava complied, though her teeth were gritted as she reluctantly passed over the powerful object.
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Richard moved last, bending down to scoop up Cillian's unconscious form with the chains. Without a word, he turned and walked away, carrying the boy deeper into the fortress.
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The grand hall of Ossa fell silent, the betrayal complete, leaving only the echo of Richard's footsteps as he disappeared with Cillian.
-Alizahs; Romanian Imperial Palace's Discussion Room-
As news of the missing Artifact of Lirania spread through the Alizah ranks, panic and fury erupted.
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"How could we let this slip through our fingers?" Rudbeckia snarled, slamming her fist on the war room table. "That jewel was our key to victory!"
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Her advisors exchanged nervous glances. One brave soul spoke up: "My lady, our spies report the Azones now have possession of the artifact. It seems the Valentine boy was involved somehow."
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Rudbeckia's eyes flashed dangerously. "MY SON? Cillian De Valentine? That pompous little duke? How did he outmaneuver us?"
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"We're not certain, but there are whispers of a girl with pink hair who may have been working with him," another advisor added cautiously.
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She paced the room, her mind racing. "This changes everything. Without the artifact, our plans for the ruins of Kior are useless. We need to adapt, and quickly."
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She turned to her assembled officers, her voice cold and determined. "Double our efforts to infiltrate Azone territory. I want eyes and ears everywhere. And put a bounty on the Valentine boy's head - dead or alive. He's made himself a priority target now."
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As her subordinates scrambled to carry out her orders, Rudbeckia stared out the window at the war-torn landscape. The loss of the jewel was a devastating blow, but she was far from defeated.
-11:45 PM, Fortress of Ossa; Main Hall-
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Luxana stumbled through the grand doors of the Fortress of Ossa, exhaustion etched into every line of her body. Her mission attire was torn and stained, evidence of the dangerous espionage she had just completed. As she entered the main hall, her eyes darted around, searching for a familiar face or a sign that she could finally rest.
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Instead, she found Medea and her mother, Roxana, waiting for her with stern expressions.
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"Luxana," Medea's voice cut through the air like a knife. "Your mission report can wait. Follow us. Now."
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Confusion flickered across Luxana's face, but she knew better than to question orders. Silently, she fell into step behind the two women, her tired muscles protesting with every movement.
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They led her through winding corridors, descending deeper into the fortress. The air grew colder, the stone walls pressing in around them. Finally, they reached a heavy iron door that Medea pushed open with a creak that echoed ominously.
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A dimly lit staircase spiraled down into darkness. Luxana hesitated for a moment, a chill running down her spine that had nothing to do with the temperature.
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"Move," Roxana commanded, her voice devoid of maternal warmth.
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Swallowing hard, Luxana obeyed, following them down into the depths of the fortress. With each step, the weight of dread in her stomach grew heavier. She had heard whispers of what lay beneath the fortress, but had never been permitted to see it herself.
-12 AM, Fortress of Ossa; Underground Dungeons-
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The heavy iron door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit staircase that spiraled down into the depths of the Fortress of Ossa. Luxana, her orange hair dulled by the flickering torchlight, followed silently behind Medea and Roxana. The air grew colder and damper with each step, the stone walls seeming to close in around them.
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As they descended, the sounds of their footsteps echoed ominously, mixing with distant, muffled cries that sent shivers down Luxana's spine. The stench of mold, sweat, and something far more sinister assaulted her nostrils, growing stronger as they neared the bottom.
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Finally, they reached the dungeon hall - a long, cavernous space lined with iron-barred cells. Shadows danced on the walls, cast by sputtering torches that did little to dispel the oppressive darkness. Water dripped somewhere in the distance, a steady rhythm that seemed to count down to some unknown, dreaded moment.
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Medea's voice cut through the silence, sharp and cold. "Luxana, tell me. Why are we fighting this war?"
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Luxana's voice wavered slightly as she responded, her eyes fixed on the damp stone floor. "To achieve victory over the Alizahs, who have clashed with the Azones for centuries. To determine who is strongest and to re-establish the Empire of Kior."
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Medea's lips curled into a sneer. "Correct, but your answer lacks... depth. Let me enlighten you." She paused, her eyes glinting in the torchlight. "I'm doing all this to get revenge for my beloved sister."
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At these words, Roxana flinched almost imperceptibly, but remained silent. Luxana, noticing the tension, simply murmured, "Understood."
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They approached a specific cell, guarded by a stoic soldier who unlocked the heavy door at Medea's nod. The hinges groaned in protest as it swung open, revealing the cell's dark interior.
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Medea entered first, her movements graceful despite the uneven floor. She settled into a chair beside the cell's lone occupant - a figure slumped against the far wall, held upright only by thick chains attached to the ceiling.
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With a lazy flick of her wand, Medea lifted the prisoner's chin. As Roxana stepped aside, allowing Luxana a clear view, the young woman's breath caught in her throat.
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Before her was a man, or what remained of one. His torso was bare, revealing a canvas of bruises, cuts, and burns that left little unmarred skin visible. His black pants, once fine, were now tattered and stained with blood and grime. The chains bit cruelly into his wrists, which were raw and bleeding from his struggles.
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His face, once handsome, was now a mask of dried blood and fresh bruises. One eye was swollen shut, while the other - a startling aquamarine - stared vacantly ahead. His white hair, matted with blood and sweat, hung in limp strands around his face.
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Despite the obvious abuse, there was still a defiant set to his jaw, a spark of resistance that hadn't been fully extinguished.
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Tears welled up in Luxana's eyes, spilling over before she could stop them. Her heart ached for this stranger, this man she didn't know but felt inexplicably drawn to.
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Medea's voice cut through Luxana's shock. "Do you know who this is, Luxana?"
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Luxana's voice trembled as she responded, "N-no. I don't know him." The words felt like a lie, though she couldn't understand why.
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A cruel smile played on Medea's lips. "Is that so?" She gestured to a soldier standing nearby. "Perhaps we need to jog your memory."
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The soldier stepped forward, uncoiling a whip that glowed with an unnatural heat. Without warning, he brought it down across the prisoner's exposed chest.
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The crack of the whip was deafening in the confined space. The prisoner's body jerked violently, a hoarse scream tearing from his throat. The smell of burning flesh filled the air as an angry red welt appeared on his skin.
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Again and again, the whip fell. Each lash left a new line of fire across the man's torso. His screams grew weaker, but his body continued to convulse with each strike. Blood began to trickle from the deeper cuts, creating macabre patterns on his pale skin.
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Luxana watched in horror, unable to look away. Her legs trembled, threatening to give out beneath her. She wanted to scream, to beg them to stop, but her voice seemed trapped in her throat.
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The prisoner's head lolled forward, consciousness finally fleeing. But still, the whip fell. The soldier's face remained impassive, as if he were simply performing a mundane task rather than inflicting unimaginable pain.
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Medea watched the scene with cold satisfaction, her eyes flicking between the prisoner and Luxana. Roxana stood silently, her face a mask of indifference that didn't quite reach her eyes.
Luxana's heart pounded in her chest as she watched the soldier's whip descend again and again on the prisoner's already battered body. Each crack of the whip, each muffled cry of pain, sent shockwaves through her. Suddenly, unable to bear it any longer, she sprang into action.
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"Stop!" Luxana cried out, her voice raw with emotion. She lunged forward, grabbing the soldier's arm mid-swing with both hands. "Please, I beg you, no more!"
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The soldier, startled by her intervention, tried to shake her off. "My lady, I have my orders-"
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"I don't care about your orders!" Luxana shouted, her eyes wild with a mixture of fear and determination. She positioned herself between the soldier and the prisoner, arms outstretched. "This is barbaric! He's already unconscious, for heaven's sake!"
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Tears streamed down Luxana's face as she continued to plead. "Haven't you done enough? Look at him! How can you stand there and continue this... this torture?"
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The soldier's face remained impassive, but his arm holding the whip lowered slightly. "Step aside, Lady Luxana. This doesn't concern you."
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"It does concern me!" Luxana retorted, her voice rising. "I won't let you hurt him anymore. I'll...I'll take the lashes myself if I have to!"
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This outburst caught everyone off guard. Medea's eyebrows rose in surprise, while Roxana's face paled slightly.
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Medea's cold voice cut through the tension. "My, my. Is this rebellion I see, Luxana? How...unexpected."
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Luxana turned to face Medea, her chest heaving with emotion. "Aunt Medea, please. Enough is enough. What could this possibly achieve?"
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For a moment, the dungeon was silent save for the ragged breathing of the unconscious prisoner and Luxana's quiet sobs. Then, Medea waved her hand dismissively.
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"Fine. This is enough for today. Your...compassion has bought him a reprieve, Luxana. I hope you're satisfied."
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With that, Medea turned and strode out of the cell, Roxana following silently behind her. The soldier hesitated for a moment, looking between Luxana and the prisoner, before finally exiting as well, taking up position outside the cell door.
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Luxana stood there, trembling, her mind reeling from her own actions. She had never defied her aunt or mother like this before. The implications of what she had done, the potential consequences, loomed large in her mind.
But as she turned to look at the battered man hanging from the chains, left alone with the unconscious prisoner, Luxana felt overwhelmed by emotions she couldn't understand. Why was she crying for a stranger? The feeling was visceral, nauseating in its intensity.
With the soldier and her family members gone, Luxana found herself alone with the unconscious prisoner. Her heart still raced from the intensity of her outburst, but a new urgency took hold as she looked at the man's battered form.
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Hesitantly, she approached him. Up close, the extent of his injuries was even more horrifying. Without thinking, she reached out, her fingers hovering just above a particularly nasty gash on his chest.
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"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I don't know who you are, but no one deserves this."
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As her hand made contact with his skin, something extraordinary happened. A warm, fiery red light light began to emanate from her palm, spreading across the prisoner's body. Luxana gasped, instinctively trying to pull away, but found she couldn't break the connection.
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Before her eyes, the man's wounds began to heal. Cuts sealed themselves, bruises faded, and the angry welts from the whip disappeared. Within moments, his body was restored, unmarred as if the torture had never happened.
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As the light faded, Luxana staggered back, staring at her hands in disbelief. "What...what did I just do?"
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The prisoner stirred, his eyes fluttering open. For a moment, aquamarine met zircon as their gazes locked. A jolt of recognition passed through Luxana, though she still couldn't place why this man seemed so familiar.
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"Who are you?" she asked, her voice trembling.
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Before he could answer, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the corridor. Panic seized Luxana as she realized she couldn't be found here, not after what had just happened.
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"I'll come back," she promised hurriedly, backing towards the cell door. "I'll find a way to help you, I promise."
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With one last look at the bewildered prisoner, Luxana slipped out of the cell.
To be Continued...
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