His heart wasn’t in it. His thoughts were elsewhere— on locked rooms, guarded corridors, and men in chains.
Meredith settled herself near the edge, clearly as uninterested as he was, yet far less tense. Watching him struggle was still preferable to wasting away in Karev’s chamber.
Darius raised the bow, drew back, and loosed.
The arrow sailed wide of the target.
He blinked, surprised while Meredith said nothing.
He drew another arrow, aimed again, and released.
Another miss.
Darius groaned, lowering the bow. “Brilliant.”
“It’s fine,” Meredith called out gently. “Just remember what Karev said about your stance.”
Darius glanced back at her. “I should’ve listened when he said I needed frequent training. I can’t even take proper aim anymore.”
“You’re overthinking it,” she said with a smile. “Try again.”
He exhaled, forcing himself to remember Karev’s lessons. His footing, his shoulders and the way the bow should feel like an extension of his arm rather than a weight in his hands. He drew, steadied himself, and released.
The arrow struck the target cleanly.
Meredith clapped, her cheer echoing across the yard. “There! I told you!”
Darius laughed, a rare, genuine sound. “That was… actually amazing.”
He reached for another arrow, but his eyes caught movement in the distance.
Several Valiants were emerging from a stone building, their formation tight. Between them walked a figure dressed in white.
Darius lowered the bow, squinting. The man’s hood was drawn up, hiding his face, but the colour alone made Darius’ pulse quicken.
Thaddeus?
Meredith followed his gaze. “That’s the Arch-Valiant building,” she said. “Most of them have their chambers there.”
“Oh,” Darius replied, distracted, watching the group disappear from sight.
His mind raced.
If that building housed Arch-Valiants, then it might also hold clues to find prisoners.
He turned back to Meredith and forced a casual tone. “I need to—uh—take a pee. I’ll be right back.”
Meredith nodded without question. “I’ll wait here.”
Darius set the bow down and walked away with steady steps.
Darius left Meredith behind and slipped back into the building that housed Karev’s chamber. The moment he crossed the threshold, the noise outside fell away, replaced by an almost unsettling silence. The corridors that had earlier echoed with boots and voices now lay empty, the meeting at the Red Dome having drawn most of the Valiants away.
His footsteps softened instinctively.
For a brief moment, he considered returning to Karev’s room, but dismissed the thought at once. Meredith might wander back at any moment. Instead, he turned in the opposite direction and followed the corridor deeper into the building, moving with the cautious ease of someone who knew he did not belong there.
The stone passages branched and twisted, some ending in closed doors, others in narrow stairways that descended into darkness. Darius slowed at every junction, listening. The building had a way of amplifying sound.
At last, he spotted a faint spill of daylight ahead. An exit.
He approached it carefully and peered outside. The doorway opened onto a narrow side court, hemmed in by high walls. Darius scanned the area, his pulse quickening.
Along the far ramparts, a handful of Valiants patrolled in pairs, bows slung across their backs. They were far enough away, and more importantly, moving in the opposite direction.
For a moment, hope flickered. He stepped out… but then froze.
A voice echoed somewhere nearby, accompanied by the clatter of armour. Darius pressed himself back against the wall, heart hammering, as two Valiants rounded a corner at the far end of the court. They were deep in conversation, laughing loudly, oblivious to their surroundings.
Darius waited, barely breathing.
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The men passed without looking his way and disappeared into another corridor. Only then did he move again, slipping along the wall until he reached the corner of the building.
From there, he could see it.
The Arch-Valiant building stood apart from the rest of the fortress, larger and more imposing, its windows narrow and guarded. Two Valiants stood watch at its entrance, spears crossed, their posture rigid and alert.
Darius swallowed. Getting there unseen would not be easy.
He edged back, searching for another route, and noticed a narrow service path running behind the adjacent structures. It was half-hidden, cluttered with crates and barrels. It looked like a route servants or quartermasters might use, not something meant for public passage.
Perfect.
He waited again, counting heartbeats, watching the patrols above. When the guards’ backs were turned, Darius slipped onto the path and moved quickly, keeping low, his long sleeves brushing against rough stone as he went.
Every distant footstep made his muscles tense.
But eventually, he closed the distance.
Darius reached the Arch-Valiant building with his pulse roaring in his ears. Up close, it felt even more imposing. It was three storeys of dark stone, its walls smoother than the rest of the fortress. Narrow windows slit the upper floors.
This entrance stood open, unguarded. He slipped inside.
The air within was cooler, and it smelt of incense and old iron. His boots barely made a sound on the polished stone floor. The ground level was deserted, but Darius did not linger. He moved quickly, slipping into a stairwell that spiralled upward along the inner wall.
Halfway up the second floor, voices drifted toward him. He froze again.
Two Valiants turned into the corridor ahead, their black-trimmed cloak marking them as high rank. Darius had nowhere to run. His gaze darted, and landed on a statue set into a shallow alcove.
A Valiant of old, carved in stone, hands raised with a stern face.
Darius slipped behind it just as the men passed. One paused barely an arm’s length away, adjusting his gloves. Darius held his breath. His muscle locked, for he was convinced that the man could hear his heart pounding.
But the Valiants moved on.
Only when their footsteps faded did Darius dare breathe again.
He continued upward, each step more careful than the last, until the stairway ended at the topmost floor. Here, the corridor was shorter and quieter with the walls adorned not with banners but with engraved symbols. Marks of authority and conquest.
At the far end stood a door painted white.
It was the only one of its kind.
Darius stared at it, instinct screaming that he had found Thaddeus’ room.
He reached for the handle, hesitated, then pushed. The door opened without a sound.
The room beyond was large and austere. The walls were lined with tall shelves filled with scrolls, ledgers, and sealed documents, all arranged with obsessive precision.
A massive desk dominated the centre of the chamber, its surface scarred with age but polished to a dull sheen. Upon it lay rolled maps, weighted at the corners by metal sigils bearing the Valiant crest — an upside down cross.
A long white cloak hung from a stand near the wall, it looked immaculate and untouched by dust.
The windows were narrow but tall, allowing pale light to spill across the floor, illuminating an emblem etched into the stone beneath the desk: the mark of the Arch-Valiant. Everything about the room spoke of control, discipline, and absolute authority.
Darius swallowed and moved quickly.
He went first to the desk, unrolling one of the maps just enough to glance at it. His breath caught. It was a layout of Sadnon, marked with symbols—watch points, patrol routes, and circled locations. Several marks were newly inked.
Raids.
He rolled it back and shifted to the shelves, scanning titles and seals. His fingers trembled as he broke a wax seal on one scroll, skimming the contents. His eyes raced over names, dates, and places.
Transport logs. Prisoner counts.
He found another document, shorter, written in a clearer handwriting. It mentioned arrivals from Orlan, transferred “under Valiant authority” and held pending judgment. No names. No crimes. Just numbers.
Darius’ chest tightened.
Truthers. All of them.
He searched faster now, rifling through messages, desperate for a name—Ron, anything—but found none. Only cold records, orders and movements.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed faintly somewhere outside.
Darius froze, clutching a scroll to his chest. He carefully returned the document, smoothing it back into place as though it had never been touched.
Then he backed toward the door, his mind racing.
He had found nothing and he had no time left.
Darius had barely taken two steps toward the door when the sound of footsteps sharpened, no longer distant or passing by. They were coming straight for the room.
His blood turned cold.
He stopped dead, every instinct screaming at him to move or vanish. His eyes darted wildly around the chamber. The desk was useless. The shelves offered no cover.
Then he spotted the narrow recess beside the cloak stand, where the wall curved inward just enough to cast a deep shadow.
Darius slipped into it, pressing himself flat against the stone, willing his breath to still.
The footsteps halted just outside.
“Forgetting again?” a voice muttered.
Another replied, irritated. “You should have locked it when the Arch-Valiant left. Thaddeus was clear about that.”
Darius clenched his jaw.
Metal scraped against metal. A key slid into the lock.
Click.
The sound rang in his ears like a death knell.
“There,” the second man said. “No one’s supposed to be in there.”
Their boots turned away, the voices fading down the corridor.
Darius waited. Counted his breaths. When silence finally settled, he stepped out of the shadows and crossed the room in three quick strides. He seized the handle and pulled.
Nothing. He pulled again, harder.
It was locked.
A sharp breath hissed through his teeth as frustration surged. He pressed his forehead briefly to the door, then forced himself to think. Panic would get him killed.
He turned and went to the nearest window. But one look down was enough.
The drop was sheer— three storeys down to stone, with no ledges, no banners, nothing to break a fall. Even if he survived the descent, the sound alone would bring every Valiant in the fortress down on him.
Darius rubbed his face, dragging his fingers through his hair. He was trapped and the Arch-Valiant’s room had become his cage.
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