Cold stone scraped against Aiah's skin as she stirred awake.
Chains rattled with her every movent. Her wrists were bound, her ankles shackled, and her throat dry. A small barred window high above let in a faint beam of moonlight, just enough to remind her this wasn't a nightmare.
She was in a cell. Beneath the Bulcan palace.
A place where prisoners were forgotten.
Her body ached. Her mind, foggy. But her spirit...
Unbroken.
Footsteps echoed down the narrow corridor. Slow. Heavy.
She lifted her head, eyes narrowing.
A tall, sturdy figure appeared outside her cell, dressed in dark steel armor. A crimson cape trailed behind him, barely touching the ground. The torchlight cast shadows across his stern face, highlighting his intense expression.
"General Broner," Aiah said flatly. "Co to see your king's latest trophy?"
Broner didn't answer right away. He stood in silence, gazing at her through the bars.
"I didn't expect you to be alive," he finally said.
Aiah forced herself to sit up straighter despite the pain. "Well. I'm full of surprises."
"Funny. I was about to say the sa about you. Still kneeling to that monster upstairs?"
Broner stepped closer, his voice low.
His eyes flickered. "Mind your tongue. That monster is still your king."
"He's not my king," she snapped. "He murdered my father."
Broner's brows furrowed, but he said nothing.
"You know it's true," Aiah pressed. "Geoffrey had him poisoned. Then claid the throne through lies and blood."
Broner looked away.
"You stood beside my father once," Aiah continued. "You called him brother. What happened to that loyalty?"
"I serve Bulcan," Broner replied. "Not a na. Not a ghost."
"No," she said, voice rising. "You serve a madman who turns n into monsters. Like Harper."
Broner's jaw clenched. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"I saw them!" Aiah shouted. "Belga and General Harper. Half monsters. You think Geoffrey stops there?"
The torchlight flickered in the corridor.
Broner's face showed no emotion. But his fists were tight.
"I know you, Broner," Aiah said, softer now. "You don't agree with this. Not with the humanoids. Not with the king's madness. Why stay?"
Broner remained silenced.
"You still have your honor," she whispered. "Don't let him take that too."
Broner stepped back from the bars.
"Don't mistake rcy for weakness, Princess. If it were anyone else, the king would have already ordered your execution."
"Then why hasn't he?" she asked.
He glanced down the corridor, then back at her.
"He says you'll be useful. I don't know what he ans yet... but I'd be careful if I were you."
Aiah's eyes narrowed. "Useful how? As a hostage? A bargaining chip? He's planning sothing."
Broner didn't deny it.
"Of course he is," she said bitterly. "Power's never enough for him. Not when there's still soone left to crush."
"You think you can do better?" he asked suddenly. "If the throne were yours."
"Yes," she said, without hesitation. "Because it's not supposed to be mine, it was my father's. He ruled with justice. With restraint. I'd carry that legacy, not trample it like Geoffrey."
"You'd be eaten alive," he muttered.
"Maybe," she admitted. "But I'd go down fighting. Not kneeling."
He said nothing.
"You're kneeling, Broner," she added, voice sharp now. "You tell yourself it's duty, but it's fear. Fear of being on the wrong side of a mad king."
Broner's eyes flared. "I've bled for this kingdom. Buried friends. Watched good n burn while nobles squabbled like children. You think I want this? You think I enjoy serving him?"
"Then don't," she snapped. "Stand with . Help end this."
"You have no army. No allies. No influence," he said flatly.
"I have a na that still matters. I have people who rember the old king. I have you, if you'd grow a spine."
Silence.
"I saw what he did to Harper," Broner said quietly. "What he beca. It wasn't natural."
"He's creating monsters," she whispered. "Twisting n into tools. If you keep following him, one day... you'll be next."
Broner looked like he'd been punched in the gut.
"I don't know how to co back from this," he said, almost to himself.
"You start by rembering who you were," Aiah said gently. "My father believed in you. So do I."
He turned, almost like he couldn't face her anymore.
"Rest," he muttered. "You'll need your strength."
But before he walked off, she hit him with one last strike.
"You're a sword loyal to no cause," she said, voice like a blade. "But even swords rust."
He paused.
"Help reclaim the throne, or watch Bulcan fall to monsters."
He didn't respond. Didn't look back.
Just walked away, his boots echoing against the stone.
But as he turned the corner...
He stopped.
King Geoffrey stood there, flanked by two guards, a cruel smile played on his lips.
"General," the king said smoothly. "Late-night stroll?"
Broner bowed stiffly. "Your Majesty."
Geoffrey's eyes glead. "How is our little bird in the cage?"
Broner hesitated. "She's awake."
"Ah. Good." The king took a slow step forward. "I was hoping she'd be alert for our next talk."
Broner said nothing.
Geoffrey leaned in a little closer, voice dropping. "Tell , General... she didn't try to sway you, did she?"
A beat of silence.
"No, Your Majesty," Broner lied. "She only spat fire. As expected."
The king smirked. "That's fine. Let her burn herself out."
Then he walked past Broner, heading toward cell.
Broner didn't turn around.
But his hands clenched into fists.
—-----
Just as Aiah leaned back, heart still pounding from the conversation...
CLANK.
The cell door creaked open.
She sat up fast.
Without a word, a guard stepped in and pulled a rough blanket over her head, yanking it down hard to cover her face.
"Move," he ordered.
Hands grabbed her arms. Shackles clinked. She thrashed, but it didn't matter.
Her world went black.
No light. No direction. Just the echo of boots and chains scraping cold stone.
They were taking her sowhere.
And she could feel it in her bones...
It wasn't anywhere good.
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