This small girl—this frail, ghost of a thing—was part of an elite class of people. Dragon Eaters. There weren’t many of them. Not because people didn’t want to be a Dragon Eater. But because becoming one was nearly impossible. Hunting a dragon was hard. Killing a dragon was harder. But eating a dragon?

  That part was easy. At least… on paper.

  Because the moment you consume the flesh of a dragon, the moment you take in its essence—you change.

  Dragon Eaters hunt dragons no longer because it is one of the most dangerous games in existence…

  But because eating a second, a third, a fourth—

  Only makes them stronger. The hunger never stops. The thirst never fades.

  And Dragon Eaters are not human.

  Not anymore. I clenched my fists, pushing those thoughts away. It didn’t matter. Not yet. I needed answers first. I took a slow breath, my voice measured.

  “While that would explain why the guards are afraid of you, Ten, I need you to give me more details.”

  I locked eyes with her, my tone firm but calm.

  “That doesn’t explain why an Otherrealm Gate is here.”

  I gestured around the room, emphasizing the absurdity of it all.

  “We are in the middle of the city. There are hundreds of wards preventing unauthorized gates from forming. Ever since I arrived, I’ve had Cordelia checking for any registered Gates in the area.”

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “There are none.”

  Not a single record. Not a single whisper of a Gate here. Nothing.

  It shouldn’t exist. Yet it did. I studied Ten’s expression carefully.

  “When did the Gate first appear? Or…” I hesitated, already dreading the answer.

  “Has it been here since you arrived?”

  My words carried weight.

  Because if the Otherrealm Gate was always here…

  That meant this entire prison was built atop a wound in reality. That meant this entire situation was worse than I thought. Ten didn’t blink. Her answer came simply. Hollow. Detached.

  “The Gate was here when Ten arrived.”

  Her pink eyes stared through me.

  “A dragon came forth.”

  She tilted her head slightly, her pink irises catching the dim light.

  “Ten had to destroy it to live.”

  Her voice was flat. Emotionless. She spoke like she was reciting a fact—as if killing a dragon was the same as talking about the weather. My stomach twisted.

  “Ten resists the inhibition collars and shackles.”

  She lifted her thin wrists, the metal cuffs around them pristine—untouched. Not a single scratch, not a single sign that the inhibitors were working.

  So they weren’t.

  “Ten used Ten’s Arte to amplify the strength of Ten’s legs.”

  She mimicked the motion slowly, almost experimentally.

  “Crushed the dragon’s skull.”

  Like it was nothing. Like she was snapping a twig. I felt the pit in my stomach widen.

  “Ten isn’t given any food.”

  That stopped me cold.

  I felt Cordelia tense beside me.

  “So Ten ate the dragon.”

  She blinked. Slowly.

  “Ten has dined exclusively on Other meat since Ten’s arrival.”

  The words hung heavy between us. I stared at her, trying to process it. The guards didn’t feed her. They starved her. And she ate what came through the Gate. That was her diet. That was her life. I felt sick.

  But worse than that…I noticed something else.

  Ever since I had called her Ten…Ever since I had given her a new moniker…

  She hadn’t used the word “I” once. Not once.

  She had listed names—labels, brands, identities others forced upon her. But she had never given herself a name. Never called herself “I.” She had never been a person. Just a title.

  A thing.

  I took a slow breath.

  I needed to push forward.

  I needed to distract myself from the ever-growing weight in my chest.

  “Who branded you?”

  The words came out sharper than I intended. Ten did not hesitate.

  She didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Her voice was automatic. Cold. Rehearsed. Programmed.

  “Ten cannot say.”

  I clenched my fists.

  “Ten was given an explicit order.”

  Her pink eyes were unwavering. Her posture didn’t change. She was simply stating a fact.

  “Ten will not confirm nor deny that Ten branded herself.”

  I inhaled sharply.

  “Ten will not confirm nor deny that Ten was branded by someone else.”

  Cordelia’s bias field tightened around us.

  “Ten will be silent.”

  A pause. Then…

  “About that question.”

  Her voice was devoid of anything. No hesitation.

  No emotion. No resistance. It was a perfect response. A response that had been carved into her. Burned into her very being. Like she was a doll. A thing that could only repeat what was forced into it. I felt my nails dig into my palm. I had met slaves before. Once.

  But this?

  This was different. This was worse. I scowled.

  “Cordelia.”

  She already knew what I was going to ask.

  Her response was immediate.

  “Zero.”

  I turned to her sharply.

  “What?”

  She exhaled.

  “The chance of erasing the slave mark.” She shook her head, her expression grim. “Zero. I already looked it up.”

  I felt a chill creep up my spine.

  “You’re sure?”

  Cordelia nodded.

  “There’s no known method to remove it. Not without cutting off the limb it’s attached to.”

  I slowly turned back to Ten.

  She stood there calmly.

  Almost like she wasn’t even part of the conversation.

  “In her case…” Cordelia continued, her voice quieter.

  “It’s on her chest.”

  My blood went cold. Cordelia’s gaze darkened.

  “So she’d be bisected.”

  Her next words felt like a hammer to my skull.

  “Death.”

  No way out. No escape. Even if I broke her chains. Even if I freed her from this hell. The brand would kill her. I let out a slow, shaky breath.

  Ten’s pink eyes remained unmoving. Unflinching. Like she had already accepted that reality. Like she had never once entertained the thought of freedom. Like she had never even considered it.

  I swallowed the anger rising in my throat. I couldn’t afford to get emotional. Not yet. Not here.

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  “I see.”

  Those were the only words I could manage. The weight in my chest grew heavier. But there was still more I needed to ask. Still more I needed to understand. I looked back at Ten. And I asked my next question.

  “Do you want to leave this place?”

  There was a long silence.

  For the first time…Ten hesitated.

  Ten’s pink eyes narrowed, and for the first time since we had met, there was emotion in them. Anger. Fury. Defiance.

  "Ten… does not understand.”

  Her voice wavered. Not from fear. But from confusion.

  “Why would Ten be able to leave?”

  She wasn’t asking out of hope. She was asking as if she genuinely couldn’t comprehend the possibility. Like the very thought of leaving this place was as foreign as the idea of breathing underwater.

  Cordelia exhaled, her voice level.

  “You’d be able to leave because Alexander here is willing to take you on as his conscript.”

  The words hung in the air.

  “An adjutant.”

  Ten stared at me. Not with excitement. Not with joy. With suspicion.

  “You’d have his insignia marked over your slave mark,” Cordelia continued, her voice cool.

  "It’d function—”

  "NO.”

  The word came out sharp.

  Sudden.

  Violent.

  I felt my entire body tense as Ten's eyes burned with rage.

  "You’d take Ten away...”

  Her hands clenched into fists.

  "You’d make Ten not Ten.”

  Her breathing grew heavy. Her entire posture shifted. Like she was ready to fight. Like she was preparing to kill us both.

  "You’d tell Ten to do this… to do that…”

  She bared her teeth, her voice low and dangerous.

  "Ten won’t."

  I didn’t move. Cordelia didn’t either.

  We both understood what just happened. For the first time, Ten had rejected an order. For the first time, she was fighting back. Against me. Against this prison. Against whatever the hell had made her this way. She had no name. No identity. But the one thing she still had?

  Her will.

  And now? I had just challenged it. I slowly raised my hands. Palms open.

  A gesture of non-aggression.

  I wasn’t going to force her. I wasn’t going to demand obedience. I needed her to choose.

  "I'm not here to take you away."

  I spoke slowly. Carefully. Like I was walking through a field of glass.

  “I’m not here to make you into something you’re not.”

  Ten’s eyes were still furious. Still wild. But she was listening. So I continued.

  "I am here because I need an answer.”

  I took a step closer. Not too close. Just enough that she could see my face clearly.

  "You’re strong. You survived when no one else did.”

  Her fingers twitched. A reflexive motion.

  "You killed a dragon.”

  Her fists clenched tighter.

  "You ate it.”

  Her breath hitched.

  "You’ve been left alone in this place.”

  I gestured to the cell.

  To the clean floors.

  The organized shelves.

  The pristine walls.

  "You’ve had nothing but this cell and the Otherrealm behind that door.”

  I met her gaze, unwavering.

  "And yet you’re still here.”

  A pause. A silence. A moment too heavy to measure.

  Then, I asked:

  "Do you want to leave?"

  Ten froze.

  Her expression flickered. Anger. Confusion. Something else.

  Something I couldn’t place.

  And something I very much could.

  Hope.

  It was faint. So faint. Like a candle’s flame fighting against the wind. Like the last dying ember in a long-dead fire. But it was there. And that terrified her. I realized it then. Hope was something she refused to feel. Because when your hope is extinguished time and time again, you don’t just lose it.You fall. Darker and darker.

  Hope is a torch in the darkness. But when that torch dies, you are left with nothing but the shades. And Ten? She had lived in the dark for so long...She had forgotten what light even looked like. I took another slow breath.

  Careful. Measured.

  "You don’t have to answer now."

  Her fingers twitched. Her nails dug into her palms. A defensive motion. Like she was trying to crush the hope before it could spread.

  "But I’ll ask you again.”

  Her eyes locked onto mine. Hard. Cold. But listening.

  "Do you want to leave?”

  Silence.

  A silence so thick it felt suffocating.

  And then— Her lips parted. Her voice was small.

  Fragile. Like the words might break her if she let them out.

  "...Ten doesn’t know."

  And for the first time...

  She used I.

  “I don’t know.”

  ***

  I stepped out of the holding area, adrenaline still running through my veins, ready to do something—anything—to feel like I had control. My mind was still reeling from everything that had happened, the decisions I had to make. So, I walked straight up to V, fists clenched, and without a second thought, threw a punch aimed directly at his gut.

  It was hard—harder than I expected it to be—but when it connected, I realized quickly just how much harder his body was. It felt like my fist had hit a brick wall. The force reverberated up my arm, and a sharp jolt of pain shot through my hand. I scowled, pulling my hand back in frustration.

  V, for all his confidence, didn't even flinch. He just smirked at me, clearly amused. “Yo, Boss! That’s not how you throw a punch! I can teach ya that!” His voice was light, as if we were having a casual chat, not like I’d just tried to take his head off. “After all, outside of being a trapsmith and explosives expert, I’m a mean pugilist. Watch.”

  Before I could react, V was on me. He swept his legs under mine, effortlessly throwing me off balance. I crashed to the ground hard, wind knocked out of me. I barely had time to register what was happening before V was standing over me, his fist raised, ready to deliver the next blow.

  With a swift motion, he brought his fist down, landing a solid hook to my cheek. The impact was sudden and sharp. My head jerked to the side, and I winced from the pain, trying to steady myself. The world tilted for a moment, a burst of light flashing behind my eyes as I fought to stay conscious.

  V stepped back, watching me with amusement. “See, that’s how you do it. Power, control, and precision. It’s all about knowing where to hit and how to channel your strength. You're trying to hit too hard, too fast. You need to learn to make your punches count.”

  I rubbed my jaw, glaring at him through narrowed eyes. My chest tightened, a mix of humiliation and frustration rising in me. “I didn’t need a lesson. I needed to feel something,” I muttered, barely above a whisper.

  V cocked his head, studying me for a moment, his grin fading slightly. “Feel something, huh? You think that punching me is gonna fix it all? That’s the problem with you Walkers—you’ve got all this power, but no idea when to use it, and when to just stop.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping lower. “You’re gonna have to make tough decisions, Alexander. They’ll eat you alive if you let them. And sometimes, you’ll need to control that rage. Because if you don’t, it’s gonna control you.”

  I stared up at him, trying to steady my breathing, the pain in my jaw starting to dull. The words hit harder than any punch. He was right, damn it. Every time I thought I had a grip on this situation, it slipped through my fingers.

  “I didn’t come here to be lectured,” I growled, getting to my feet, rubbing my jaw. But V’s gaze never wavered. It was steady, almost as if he was waiting for me to see what he meant.

  “Then what did you come here for?” V asked, his voice steady and calm, his arms crossed.

  "Why the hell wasn't she fed? Why the hell wasn't she in other cells? And why in all the moons' glow is there an Otherrealm here?!" I demanded, my frustration boiling over. I stood in front of V, my fists clenched at my sides, not caring about the aching pain from the earlier punch.

  V didn't flinch. His expression remained unchanged, almost as if he were waiting for me to ask those exact questions. He was a man who had seen it all, and nothing seemed to faze him. But that didn't mean I was going to hold back.

  "I’m asking you, V," I continued, my voice rising. "What the hell is going on here? Why is Ten still alive, and why the hell is there an Otherrealm gate in this damn prison? It's in the middle of Marr! There are wards everywhere to stop this kind of thing!"

  V let out a long, tired sigh, as if he was the one who had been asked to carry the weight of the answers. He leaned against the stone wall, folding his arms. "You want answers, huh? Well, you’re not gonna like 'em."

  I stood there, glaring at him, waiting for him to continue.

  “Look, kid,” V started, his tone suddenly turning serious. “This prison? It’s a black hole. They shove every kind of monster, every criminal, every person they can’t figure out into these walls. They don’t give a damn about what's inside. They just need to lock it away. And sure, maybe that Otherrealm thing? Not normal. But when you have a dragon eater, a girl who can consume the meat of dragons and turn herself into a goddamn nightmare, you’re gonna get some weird stuff happening.” He paused, his voice lowering. “E-block? It’s a special case. I don’t even know the whole story behind it. But it’s not like anyone gives a shit. They just let it happen.”

  I stared at him, my mind trying to process his words. The pieces weren't fitting together. How could the people running the prison let something like this happen? A Dragon Eater? And an Otherrealm gate? It didn't make sense.

  “What does this mean for me?” I asked quietly, a hint of dread creeping into my voice. “Am I supposed to fix this? Am I supposed to make it all right?”

  V gave me a look, his gaze sharp and hard. “You’re supposed to do your job, kid. And your job is to get answers. Your job is to decide what happens to Ten, and who gets to live. You’re a Walker now. This is your world. You’ve got a duty to keep it safe—no matter what.”

  I clenched my fists tighter, trying to ignore the sick feeling rising in my stomach. “And what about the Otherrealm? You’re telling me it’s just gonna stay here, open like that?”

  V didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he pushed off the wall and walked past me, his hand on my shoulder briefly as he moved toward the door. “You’ll get your answers in time, Alexander. But first, you need to understand something. The world out there... It's complicated. And sometimes, you’re the only one who can decide what gets to live and what gets to die. But you don’t get to change the rules just because you don’t like them.”

  He opened the door, glancing back at me one last time. “And as for the gate? That’s a problem for later. One step at a time.”

  I stood there, the door to the holding cell still open, my mind racing. I had already made my decision. Ten would become my adjutant. She had the skills, the strength, and the intelligence to be an asset to me. But the real challenge wasn’t in offering her the position—it was in convincing her she had any chance of freedom at all.

  The way she spoke—the way she existed—had stripped her of that hope long ago. She had resigned herself to being nothing more than a tool, a weapon, a slave to the whims of the people who controlled her. She’d lived in that prison for so long, under conditions so brutal, that the very idea of freedom might seem like a distant dream. A dream too far gone to believe in.

  But I wasn’t going to let her stay there. I couldn’t. Not when I saw the potential, the fight left in her. She wasn’t just some criminal that could be thrown away. She was someone who had endured, someone who had survived, and now, someone I could give a chance to walk a different path.

  I took a deep breath and pushed the thoughts aside. This wasn’t going to be easy. It wasn’t going to be pretty. But I was the one who had to make it happen. If I was going to offer her anything, it had to be more than just a position as my adjutant—it had to be a promise. A promise that I would fight for her freedom, and I would fight for her to believe it was possible.

  I turned back toward the holding cell, the faintest echo of hope creeping up from the depths of my chest. This was the hardest part. Convincing Ten to hope again. To trust in something, someone, when all she had known was pain and manipulation.

  Taking another step toward the cell, I walked through the door, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were dull, cold, like she had given up everything, even herself. But I wasn’t going to let her stay that way. Not if I could help it.

  "Ten," I said, my voice low, firm. "I’m offering you a chance. A real one. You can be my adjutant, work with me. I’m not asking for loyalty right away, but I am offering you a chance to have a future. A future where you’re not just someone's property. Where you’re not bound to a life of violence and servitude."

  She didn’t respond at first. She just stared at me, her body tense, as if waiting for the catch. But there was no catch. Not this time.

  I stepped closer, my gaze steady. "You don’t have to live in that prison anymore, Ten. You don’t have to be the monster they made you. You can have your own life. And if you work with me, I promise you—I’ll fight for your freedom."

  Her lips trembled slightly, her hands curled into fists, and for a moment, I thought she might reject it. But then, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

  "Why... why would you offer that to me?" Her words were laced with disbelief. "What’s in it for you?"

  I met her eyes without hesitation. "What’s in it for me is seeing you free, Ten. What’s in it for me is knowing I didn’t turn my back on someone who still has a chance. You matter. Even if you don't believe that yet, I’ll help you believe it."

  The silence stretched between us, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. And for the third time, I saw something flicker in her eyes. Maybe it was hope, maybe it was doubt, maybe it was something else. But it was there, and that was enough for me.

  I held out my hand, my gesture simple but filled with all the sincerity I could muster. "You don’t have to choose this right now. But when you’re ready, when you’re ready to believe there’s more for you than this, I’ll be here."

  For a long moment, Ten stared at my hand, the weight of the decision on her. And then, slowly, cautiously, she reached out.

  It wasn’t a promise, not yet. But it was a start.

  And I’d be damned if I didn’t see it through.