Darius returned to the door and yanked the handle again, harder this time, though he already knew it was useless. The metal didn’t even rattle. The lock held fast and unyielding.

  A hard breath escaped him.

  He turned back into the room and crossed to Thaddeus’ desk, shoving aside scrolls as he searched for a spare key. Nothing. He checked beneath the desk, along its edges, even inside the drawers he had already opened.

  They were all empty and his pulse quickened.

  He moved to the cupboards lining the far wall, flinging them open one after another. Neatly folded cloaks. Sealed documents. Ceremonial pieces. There was no key. No hidden latch or miracle.

  His chest tightened. Of all places to be trapped, this was the worst imaginable— alone, inside the chamber of an Arch-Valiant, while the fortress was full of men sworn to kill Truthers on sight.

  His hands trembled.

  Without fully understanding why, a confused, desperate thought took hold of him, and he spoke with shaken authority.

  [Reveal Armoury].

  The air rippled.

  Both swords materialised before him, suspended for a heartbeat as they always were. But then something unexpected happened. The bow that had been slung over his shoulder, along with its quiver, shimmered and vanished, only to reappear beside the summoned weapons.

  Darius blinked.

  His brows lifted in stunned realisation.

  The bow and arrows were no longer merely something he carried. They had become his— bound to him and claimed by the same force that governed his armoury.

  He didn’t dwell on it as instinct took over.

  Darius reached for the sword he had arrived in this world with. The moment his fingers closed around the hilt, the remaining weapons faded from sight, dismissed without command.

  He turned back to the door.

  Kneeling, he slid the pointed tip of the blade into the keyhole and twisted, first left, then right. The metal scraped uselessly. He tried again, applying more force, his jaw clenched tight. But nothing happened.

  With a low growl of frustration, he withdrew the sword and raised it high, rage flaring hot and reckless. For a heartbeat, he was ready to bring it down, to splinter the door, consequences be damned.

  Then reality slammed into him.

  The sound would echo through the corridor. Guards would come running. Dozens of them.

  Darius froze with his sword hanging in the air, before slowly lowering it.

  The anger drained out of him, leaving only exhaustion.

  He backed away from the door and slumped into a corner of the room, his legs giving way beneath him. The sword slipped from his fingers and clattered softly against the stone floor.

  And then, his mind raced.

  Was he really ready to face that many Valiants at once?

  Even if he cut down the first men who found him, what then? How would he fight his way out of a fortress built to contain and destroy people like him?

  The answer was painfully clear. He wouldn’t.

  Death began to feel less like a possibility and more like an inevitability. For the first time since entering the Red Dome, fear truly settled in his bones.

  And in that moment of helplessness, he wished desperately that Favian was there beside him.

  ?══════? ?─?─? ?══════?

  Darius sat on the cold stone floor for what felt like an eternity.

  At first, every sound made him flinch, especially the distant echo of boots. Eventually, exhaustion dulled his fear, and his thoughts slowed. There was nothing left to do but wait.

  He came to a grim conclusion: when the Arch-Valiant returned, he would either find a place to hide, or stand tall and face whatever fate awaited him.

  Hours passed and for the first time in days, Darius allowed his thoughts to drift somewhere else— far away from Valiants, Ragelers, and blood-stained streets.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  He thought of home. Of a life that now felt impossibly distant, like something he had dreamed rather than lived.

  If he was never going to return to that world, then perhaps there was no reason to fear death so fiercely. The thought brought an unexpected calm.

  Light shifted in the room and the sun slipped behind the clouds, causing long shadows to stretch across the floor, as the sky darkened. The meeting had gone on far longer than he expected. Yet still, no one returned to the chamber.

  Suddenly, voices drifted in from outside. It was low and muffled.

  Patrols, he assumed.

  But then the voices grew nearer, not along the corridor, but below, near one of the windows. Darius rose quietly and edged closer, peering down.

  Two Valiants in black moved through the courtyard beneath him. They were walking away from the building, their earlier loud conversation now reduced to near whispers. One of them said something to the other, and both men paused, glancing around suspiciously, as though wary of unseen ears.

  Darius frowned.

  Then, without warning, warmth flared at his wrist.

  He sucked in a breath and yanked his sleeve back. The band was glowing.

  The yellow gem pulsed with light— not steady like the red gem still burning faintly, but blinking, urgent, alive.

  Darius stared at it with his heart pounding.

  Below, the two Valiants continued whispering until they disappeared from view. The moment they were gone, the light on the band vanished.

  Understanding struck him limmediately.

  “Valiants…” he whispered. “It’s warning me about approaching Valiants.”

  The realization sent a chill through him.

  At that instant, the bell atop the Red Dome rang out, thunderous, and impossible to ignore. The meeting was over.

  Panic surged back in full force. Thaddeus was coming.

  Darius spun around, scanning the room with frantic eyes. He needed a hiding place now. His gaze landed on a shallow recess in the wall, a dented alcove where the Arch-Valiant’s white robes hung neatly and concealing.

  It wasn’t perfect. But it would do.

  Darius moved toward it, but his heart raced, knowing that if Thaddeus noticed him, there would be no running this time.

  He would have to kill an Arch-Valiant, or die trying.

  Darius’s gaze snapped back to his sword. He snatched it from the floor and rushed to the alcove, slipping behind the heavy white robes just as footsteps echoed faintly somewhere below. The space was tight, forcing him to press himself flat against the stone.

  His shoulder touched the wall but then… it shifted.

  Darius froze.

  His hands pushed back instinctively, and the stone beneath his palms moved inward, smooth and deliberate, like a door responding to pressure. Before he could even process what was happening, the section of wall slid noisily to the right, revealing a narrow corridor beyond.

  Darius stared, stunned.

  It was a secret passage.

  For a heartbeat, he hesitated, listening for voices, for shouts— anything. None came. The corridor yawned before him.

  He didn’t think again.

  Darius slipped through the opening with his sword clenched tight in his hand. The moment he was clear of the chamber, he spun back toward the opening, dread surging anew.

  If Thaddeus returned and found the wall open, the alarm would be immediate.

  Darius ran his hands over the stone, panic rising as seconds ticked by. The surface felt seamless now, as though the passage had never existed at all. He pressed here, there and nothing happened.

  Then his fingers brushed a shallow indentation near the edge.

  He pressed it and the wall responded at once, sliding back into place with a muted thud, sealing the passage completely. The robes fell back into their neat arrangement, hiding any sign of disturbance.

  Darius sagged against the corridor wall, breath shuddering out of him.

  He had escaped. Certain death had been a breath away, and for now, at least, it had passed him by.

  ?══════? ?─?─? ?══════?

  The moment the wall sealed behind him, the corridor came alive.

  One by one, lamps along the walls flared into existence, their flames igniting without spark or hand.

  Darius turned slowly, staring at them in awe. It felt as though the passage itself had awakened an ancient sorcery that was responding to his presence.

  He did not linger.

  Gripping his sword, Darius began to walk, his sole thought fixed on escape. As he moved forward, the lamp ahead of him lit, while the one behind dimmed and died, leaving darkness in his wake. The corridor guided him like a living thing, illuminating only the path he had yet to tread.

  The passage sloped downward and soon broke into stairs carved directly from stone. Darius took them two at a time, his steps quick and careful. He judged he had descended from the topmost storey now, perhaps nearing the ground floor.

  Then his wrist grew warm again.

  The green gem began to blink and Darius stopped dead.

  The memory of the yellow gem’s warning, flashed through his mind. Yellow had meant Valiants were nearby. Green had to mean something else. Something important.

  He lifted his gaze and noticed it. The wall ahead was different.

  The stone there was smoother, subtly mismatched from the rest of the corridor and almost identical to the wall that had opened on the top floor. For a moment, Darius considered ignoring it. Escape was his priority. Whatever secrets lay hidden here could wait.

  He took a few steps past it. Then he stopped.

  If the band was speaking to him now, he needed to listen.

  Darius turned back, tightening his grip on his sword, every muscle coiled in anticipation. With his free hand, he pressed against the strange section of wall.

  It yielded at once.

  The stone slid aside, revealing another alcove beyond. Darius drew a slow breath and stepped out of the corridor, senses sharp and blade ready.

  At first, all he saw was another empty passage.

  He advanced cautiously, peering around the edge of the alcove into what he expected to be a modest chamber.

  Instead, his jaw dropped.

  The space before him was enormous— a vast hall, easily ten times the size of Thaddeus’ room. Heavy iron cages lined the floor in grim rows, their bars thick and unforgiving. Inside them sat people— men and women slumped against metal, faces hollow with their bodies bruised and broken.

  They were Prisoners. Defeated and Silent.

  Darius’ slowly lowered his sword.

  These were Truthers. Or those who had dared to stand beside them.