[Samael Ashwood's POV]
The warden nodded, his posture now reflecting a mix of reluctant cooperation and a cautious sense of duty. "I will ensure the release of Marcus and Flint is expedited. anwhile, if you need any additional information or resources, I am at your service, Lord Ashwood."
As he left the room to make the necessary arrangents, I continued to sift through the docunts, my mind racing with thoughts of what might co next. The more I delved into the files, the clearer the web of Garrick Rutherford's influence beca. It was evident that he had been operating with a level of impunity, using the prison as a tool for his own machinations.
In so docunts, there were ntions of secret sealed floors on which so extrely dangerous prisoners were held—individuals who had been deed too powerful or influential to be left in the general population. These prisoners were often subjected to harsh conditions, their very existence a tightly guarded secret.
The implications of such a facility within Rutherford Prison were troubling, indicating that Garrick had far more power and reach than initially suspected.
As I continued to read, one particular file caught my attention. It detailed a series of experints conducted on certain prisoners—experints that involved the extraction of magical essences and the forced awakening of latent affinities. The descriptions were grueso, outlining the pain and suffering inflicted on the subjects, many of whom had died as a result.
Those who survived were either driven mad or turned into mindless husks, their magical abilities used as fuel for dark rituals.
A chill ran down my spine as I realized the extent of Garrick's depravity. He was not rely a political rival or a scher; he was a monster willing to sacrifice anything and anyone to achieve his goals. The more I uncovered, the more urgent it beca to dismantle his operations and bring him to justice.
And then I picked up the black file, my fingers tracing the worn edges of the cover. There was sothing ominous about it, a sense of foreboding that made my pulse quicken. No tag, no label—this file was ant to stay hidden, buried among the countless other records.
Taking a deep breath, I opened the file, my eyes scanning the first few pages. The contents were unlike anything I had seen so far—encrypted docunts filled with arcane symbols and cryptic notes. The handwriting was erratic, almost frantic as if the author had been in a state of desperation or madness.
It took a mont to piece together the aning behind the words, but as I deciphered them, a chilling realization began to form.
This file detailed a project codenad "The Deathless One". It spoke of an ancient ritual, performing this ritual with a Vampire as a main 'ingredient' sohow extracting their undying aspect and embedding it into a host, effectively creating a being that could not die by conventional ans. The ritual was dangerous, forbidden even, with a high chance of failure.
The notes detailed multiple attempts, all of which ended in catastrophic failure, resulting in the destruction of both the host and the surrounding area. But what stood out the most was the ntion of a recent attempt—one that Garrick Rutherford had personally overseen.
The na of the host was listed as Xandros Blackthorn—a na that sent a jolt through . But... He was... supposed to die in an assassination attempt.
Xandros Blackthorn— was the youngest prince of this kingdom, but suddenly he just vanished from the public eye a few years ago, following a supposed assassination attempt. His death was widely accepted, as a tragic loss to the kingdom, but it seems that wasn't the full story. If these docunts are to be believed, Xandros didn't die.
Instead, he was taken—captured, and subjected to Garrick's twisted experint. The implications were staggering.
Xandros Blackthorn had always been sowhat of an enigma, a prince with a natural affinity for powerful magic. His potential had made him a target for many, but no one could have anticipated that he would beco the focal point of such a dark and forbidden ritual. The thought of him being transford into so form of immortal, undying entity under Garrick's control was horrifying.
The experint must have been recent, and if Xandros survived the ritual, he could still be alive sowhere within this prison or hidden away in one of Garrick's other facilities. This could be the key to unraveling Garrick's entire operation—if I could find Xandros and bring him back, it would expose Garrick's cris to the world and provide a powerful ally in the fight against him.
I snapped the file shut, the weight of what I had discovered pressing down on . The situation had escalated beyond re political maneuvering. Garrick Rutherford wasn't just a rival; he was a threat to the very fabric of the kingdom, willing to plunge into the darkest depths of magic to achieve his ambitions.
But looks like this is not the end as I saw another file tucked away behind the other docunts, barely noticeable but distinct in its own way. It was smaller, thinner, and lacked the ominous weight of the previous files, yet sothing about it felt equally significant. I hesitated for a mont, then pulled it out, opening it with cautious curiosity.
This file was different. It wasn't filled with experints or dark rituals but instead detailed a series of communications between Garrick Rutherford and various shadowy figures throughout the kingdom. As I read through the correspondence, a clearer picture of his network began to form—one that extended far beyond the prison walls.
The letters were coded, but I managed to decipher them, revealing Garrick's involvent in a vast conspiracy. He was in contact with corrupt nobles, rogue mages, and even foreign agents, all of whom were part of a grander sche to destabilize the kingdom from within. They spoke of planned uprisings, sabotage of key infrastructure, and the gradual erosion of the royal family's power.
One letter, in particular, caught my attention. It was from a figure known only as "The Shadow Regent," a title that sent a shiver down my spine. The Shadow Regent was evidently a key player in this conspiracy, providing Garrick with resources, information, and even manpower to carry out his plans.
The letter ntioned an upcoming "event" that would serve as the catalyst for their rebellion—a public execution intended to spark outrage and incite chaos.
The na of the intended victim was not ntioned, But the title was clearly discussed here. the realization hit like a cold, hard slap. My mother, Elysia Ashwood, the strongest mage of the Blackthorn Kingdom, was the intended target of this public execution.
The thought of her being paraded before the kingdom, condemned by these traitors, filled with a seething anger that threatened to consu . They dared to plot against her—against my family—thinking they could use her death to incite rebellion and tear the kingdom apart.
I clenched the letter tightly, the paper crumpling under the pressure of my grip. This conspiracy was more intricate and dangerous than I had imagined. Garrick Rutherford wasn't just aiming to increase his power; he was planning to dismantle the kingdom itself, piece by piece, starting with the heart of my family.
But they had made a grave mistake. They underestimated the Ashwoods—underestimated . I would not let their plans co to fruition. The Shadow Regent, Garrick, all of them—they would pay dearly for even thinking of harming my mother.
My mind raced as I considered my options. I needed to act swiftly, to ensure my mother's safety and thwart this conspiracy before it could gain any more montum. There was no ti to lose; every mont I spent here was a mont closer to their plan's execution.
I carefully placed the files back in order, ensuring that nothing appeared disturbed. If Garrick realized soone was onto him, he might accelerate his plans or go into hiding, making it harder to stop him. I would need to be both subtle and decisive in my next moves.
As I prepared to leave the warden's office, I knew that the information I had uncovered was only the beginning. There were more layers to this plot—more players involved. But I had an advantage now. I knew what they were planning, and I had the ans to disrupt it.
"Before leaving, Let's see those sealed floors myself," I murmured under my breath. The knowledge I had gained so far was invaluable, but it wasn't enough. I needed to see the truth with my own eyes—to confirm whether Xandros Blackthorn was truly alive and, if so, what state he was in. If he had survived Garrick's twisted experint, he might hold the key to unraveling this entire conspiracy.
I strode out of the warden's office, my expression set in determination. The warden, now fully aware of the gravity of the situation, hurried to catch up with . "Lord Ashwood, is there anything else you require before you depart?"
"I need access to the sealed floors," I replied firmly. "I want to see firsthand what's being hidden there."
"My lord, Even I don't know where it is? Lord Garrick sends every guard out of the prison whenever he enters those restricted areas. He oversees everything personally. But, I've heard rumors about hidden passages within the prison—ones that only he and a select few know about."
The warden's words confird my suspicions. Garrick had gone to great lengths to ensure his secrets remained buried. But if Xandros Blackthorn was truly down there, then those secrets would not stay hidden for long.
"Take to the most secure area of the prison," I instructed. "I'll find the passage myself."
The warden hesitated, fear flickering in his eyes, but he nodded, leading through the winding corridors of Rutherford Prison. As we descended deeper, the air grew colder, the oppressive atmosphere weighing heavily on us. The walls were lined with ancient runes, glowing faintly, a sign of the powerful magic used to reinforce the prison's defenses.
Finally, we reached a massive iron door, reinforced with layers of enchantnts and locks. The warden stopped in front of it, glancing nervously at . "This is the deepest level we're allowed to access, my lord. Beyond this point, even I have no authority."
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[To Be Continued]
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The Vol.1 is going to end soon enough...
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