Revan’s hands hovered near the hilt of his sword, his body tense, ready. Luna, without a word, stepped forward and placed herself between him and the man at the door.

  Revan blinked, caught off guard by her sudden movement.

  “L–Lord Cervarin,” Luna said, her voice unsteady but brave.

  The man smiled, cold and amused. “I take it the mission was a success.”

  Before Revan could respond, Lord Cervarin reached out and grabbed Luna’s wrist, his grip tightening.

  “Flash,” came a soft whisper from behind Luna.

  She reacted instantly. Her palm tilted upward, light gathering in her hand—and in a sudden burst, a blinding beam of radiance exploded toward Lord Cervarin’s face.

  He recoiled, covering his eyes with a growl.

  Revan surged forward, Etherea flooding his limbs—but just as his hand reached for his blade, his eyes caught something horrifying.

  Lord Cervarin’s body began to change.

  With a grotesque twist of flesh, a pair of massive, shattered antlers burst from his forehead. His muscles swelled beneath his clothing, fur sprouting across his arms and chest. His eyes gleamed, and his growl deepened to something bestial.

  In a blur, the transformed noble charged forward—an explosion of Etherea propelling him like a cannon.

  Revan had no time to dodge.

  He was slammed across the room, his small body crashing into the far wall with a thunderous crack. The stone behind him split, fragments falling around him as he crumpled to the ground.

  The sound echoed through the halls.

  In the dining hall beside the room, the robed figures sprang to their feet and rushed toward the commotion. As they entered the grand hall, they found a boy—barely conscious—slumped against a shattered wall. Across the room stood a towering, half-stag creature, clutching the arm of a golden-haired child.

  “Lord Cervarin…” one of them gasped.

  “Take the boy to the dungeon,” the creature growled. “I’ll bring Young Lady Marvilion to the lab myself.”

  Revan’s vision blurred. Darkness crept in from the edges, but before the world slipped away, he saw one last thing—Luna struggling in Lord Cervarin’s grip, trying desperately to break free on the balcony above.

  Slowly, Revan’s senses returned.

  The first thing he saw was the cracked stone ceiling, dim and lifeless, barely illuminated by a flickering light somewhere beyond the bars.

  Revan sat up slowly, groggy and disoriented. A dull throb pulsed in his skull. As he looked around, reality settled in—a small, cold cell, no larger than four by four meters. Iron bars lined one side. The walls were solid stone, rough and uninviting. There were no windows. No sign of time passing. Just stillness.

  As he pushed himself to his feet, a sharp jolt of pain surged through his side. He winced, instinctively clutching his ribs.

  Under his tunic, he felt tight bandages, wrapped firmly around his torso.

  ‘Ouch.’

  He checked his belt—gone. Then his pockets—empty.

  ‘Of course they took everything.’

  He stood and gripped the rusted bars, shaking them gently. Across from him, he could make out three other cells, though only two were visible. They were empty.

  Then something else caught his attention.

  A heavy metal band wrapped around his right wrist. It resembled a thick bracelet, made of dark steel with a keyhole on top.

  ‘What is this?’

  He swung his arm and slammed it against the bars.

  Clang. Clang. Clang.

  The sound echoed down the stone corridor.

  Moments later, the iron door at the far end creaked open. A hooded figure entered, stepping into the light with a slow, deliberate gait. Weapons hung from their belt—a sword, a dagger—and a ring of keys jingled from a chain at their side.

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  “Stop making noise, brat.”

  “Let me out of here!” Revan snapped.

  The figure chuckled. “Yeah? Should I make you dinner too while I’m at it?”

  Revan clenched his fists, drawing in a breath as he tried to summon Etherea. But something was wrong.

  Nothing flowed.

  It was like trying to breathe with no air. His power was there—somewhere—but it was sealed.

  He looked down at his hands, stunned.

  The figure grinned behind the shadows of their hood. “Don’t even try it, boy. You can’t use your power here.”

  With a final glance, the stranger turned and left, the heavy metal door slamming shut behind them.

  Revan waited a beat, then pulled off his belt. He unrolled it carefully on the floor and flipped it over. Hidden beneath the inner lining were several small compartments, almost invisible to the untrained eye.

  He opened one, pulled out a tiny bobby pin, and bit it gently between his teeth before refastening the belt around his waist.

  He turned his attention to the metal cuff clamped tightly around his right wrist. He tried probing it—looking for seams, hinges, anything resembling a standard locking mechanism—but it didn’t respond like a typical restraint.

  ‘Damn it… this needs a special key.’

  Shaking his head, he moved to the cell door. He inserted the bobby pin into the old iron lock. A few practiced twists.

  Click.

  The lock gave way. Revan slowly swung the gate open, making sure it didn’t creak.

  “You’re quite handy, kid.”

  A voice echoed softly behind him. Revan spun around.

  In the next cell, stood a gaunt man, tall and ragged, his face half-hidden behind a tangled beard and long, unkempt hair. Despite his filthy and torn clothing, there was something unmistakably noble in the cut of the fabric—something a commoner couldn’t afford.

  On the man’s right wrist was the same kind of iron cuff Revan wore.

  Revan stepped closer, studying him carefully from head to toe.

  “Do you know how to get out of here?” he asked.

  “That depends,” the man replied, tilting his head. “Can you get me out too?”

  Revan hesitated, eyes flicking to the heavy door at the end of the corridor.

  ‘I can’t get out of here alone…’

  He turned back, weighing his options.

  “You can trust me, Vaelgrim,” the man added with a slight smile.

  That made Revan pause. “What gave it away?”

  “The black clothes. The brooding. It’s a very specific vibe,” the man grinned.

  Revan didn’t respond, but stepped to the man’s cell and picked the lock. A few turns of the bobby pin, and the cell creaked open.

  “What’s the plan?” Revan asked.

  The man didn’t answer immediately. He strode past Revan, heading straight for the iron door at the end of the room. Just before reaching it, he turned back with a smirk.

  Then, without warning, he slammed the metal cuff on his wrist hard against the door.

  The clang rang through the dungeon like a bell.

  “What are you doing?!” Revan hissed, alarmed.

  The man didn’t answer. Instead, he pressed his back to the wall, just beside the doorway.

  The door burst open. The same hooded guard from before stormed inside, eyes locking instantly onto Revan standing free in the middle of the corridor.

  “What the—how the hell did you get out?!” the guard growled, reaching for his weapon.

  Revan dropped into a ready stance, preparing to fight.

  But before the guard could take another step, the prisoner struck.

  With a swift motion, he swung his cuffed wrist, smashing the back of the guard’s head. The man collapsed instantly, blood spreading across the floor beneath him.

  The prisoner turned to Revan with a crooked grin.

  “That’s the plan,” he said.

  Revan approached the collapsed guard and crouched down, carefully unhooking the ring of keys dangling from the man’s belt. He returned to his cell, trying each key in the lock of the metal cuff on his wrist, one by one.

  Meanwhile, the prisoner had retrieved a sword from the guard’s gear and was fastening it to his own belt. He glanced over at Revan with an amused smirk.

  “You won’t get that off with those keys,” he said casually.

  Revan paused and looked up. “How do you know?”

  The man chuckled. “Do you really think this is my first attempt?”

  Revan let out a quiet sigh and gave the cuff one final, futile tug before rising to his feet. He reached down, retrieving the dagger from the fallen guard’s belt, and slipped it into his own.

  Stepping through the now-open iron door, he found himself in a narrow corridor. Just outside stood a small wooden desk and a rickety chair, both worn with age. A single Ether Lantern cast a soft, flickering glow over the space.

  On the desk lay an unfolded letter, its edges yellowed and slightly curled

  Revan picked it up and held it closer to the light.

  Suddenly, the prisoner snatched the letter from his hands.

  “This won’t help us escape,” he said, folding the letter with practiced ease before tucking it inside his coat.

  “Then what will?” Revan asked.

  “Follow me.”

  Without another word, the man turned and started up a staircase just beyond the corridor. Revan followed, boots soft on stone, the air growing cooler and less stale as they ascended from the depths of the dungeon.

  “For the past five years, I’ve tried to escape this place more times than I can count,” the prisoner said over his shoulder. “And every time, I’ve been stopped by one thing.”

  “The stag-man?” Revan asked.

  The man let out a quiet laugh. “No. Don’t be ridiculous,” he replied, almost offended. “I could’ve gotten past him even without my power.”

  Revan narrowed his eyes. “So… you’re an Etherean.”

  The man glanced back at him with a raised brow. “You knew that the moment you saw the cuff.”

  “Yeah,” Revan muttered. “So what’s the thing that keeps you in here?”

  They reached the top of the stairs. The prisoner halted and raised his hand, pointing toward the far end of a narrow chamber.

  “That,” he said simply.

  Revan stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. “That’s it?”