CHAPTER SIXTY TWO: ASHES BENEATH THE THRONE

The silence between us stretched like an endless corridor, wrapping tighter the closer we got to the outpost's underground chamber. It felt like we were walking through fog—thick, cold, and full of things none of us wanted to say out loud. The only sound was the crunch of boots on gravel, the subtle hum of Nicole's flames still simmering low, and the faint tap... tap... tap of Ken's finger against his gun holster. A restless rhythm, sharp and deliberate. He was pissed—anyone could see that.

Nicole was trailing behind, her eyes unfocused, lost somewhere between Dain's confession and her own unraveling thoughts. Her footsteps were light, hesitant, like she was walking on questions instead of solid ground. She hadn't said a word since we left Dain's body behind. I could feel the doubt dripping off her in waves. The girl who once looked at the world like it was something she could save now couldn't even meet its eyes.

Ken was the opposite. Coiled like a spring, jaw locked, every step of his was heavy with restraint. He didn't say anything either, but he didn't need to. His posture, the way his hand hovered close to his weapon, said it all—he wanted to shoot something, someone. Anything. Maybe even me if I gave him a good enough reason.

And me? I felt... indifferent. Detached. Not because I was numb or cold—those words are too soft. It's just that I didn't care. Not about Dain. Not about the boy we were about to find. And definitely not about the King or his dirty secrets. Dain's story, tragic as it was, didn't surprise me. People in power always have skeletons—some just leave the door wide open.

Still, the silence pressed down hard. We all felt it. The distance between us wasn't just physical. We weren't a team right now. We were just three people walking in the same direction for different reasons.

Nicole glanced up at me once, her lips parting slightly like she wanted to speak... but she didn't. She looked away, and I didn't push.

Let her wrestle with her conscience. Let Ken stew in his rage.

Me? I was just here to finish the job.

The outpost was dead quiet. Not the kind of quiet that felt peaceful—this one felt like the calm after something terrible. The walls around us were cracked with age, coated in a thin film of dust and silence, like even sound had learned to keep its distance from this place. Shadows clung to the ceiling in long, ghostlike streaks, and the further we descended the colder it got.

Nicole's steps faltered now and then. I didn't need to look back to know her thoughts were spiraling. Her breathing was uneven, like every breath was a question she didn't want answered.

Ken remained ahead of her, pacing stiffly. His fingers never left his gun holster. If there were more secrets in this place, he wanted them dead before they spoke. He hadn't spoken since pulling the trigger on Dain. Maybe because he didn't regret it. Maybe because he did. Either way, he kept his back straight and his anger visible like a loaded weapon.

There were markings on the stone now—runes and symbols drawn in chalk and smeared blood, curling around the walls like forgotten spells. They weren't alchemic, at least not any kind I recognized. Just more madness painted over madness.

We reached a heavy iron door. Bolted. Reinforced. A single torch flickered above it, casting our shadows across the wall like tall, monstrous things.

"He's in there," Nicole said softly, finally breaking the silence. Her voice was hollow.

I didn't answer. Just reached forward, gripped the rusted handle, and pulled. The hinges groaned like they were in pain.

The smell hit first—like rot and damp cloth. The room beyond was dim, lit only by a single overhead light that swung slightly, casting everything in a slow, nauseating sway.

And there he was.

Prince Elias.

Huddled in the farthest corner of the chamber, his body pressed into the wall like he was trying to disappear into it. His clothes were torn, his skin pale and blotchy with bruises and filth. His hair had grown longer, wild and unkempt, falling over hollow, sunken eyes.

But it wasn't the physical that made the air thicken—it was the look in those eyes.

He didn't blink when we stepped in. Didn't flinch. He just stared at the wall in front of him, muttering under his breath in a broken rhythm that made no sense. His mouth moved, but no words came out. Just sounds. Random, scattered syllables like he was trying to form a sentence but had forgotten what language was.

Nicole moved first, slowly approaching him, her eyes wide with disbelief and heartbreak. "Elias…?" she whispered, kneeling. "It's okay… we're here now…"

He didn't respond. His head twitched at her voice but his eyes stayed lost—trapped in a place none of us could see.

She reached out gently, her fingers trembling as they touched his shoulder. He flinched violently, recoiling, pressing harder into the corner. A low, broken whimper escaped him—childlike, terrified.

I stood in the doorway, arms folded.

"He's scrambled," I muttered. "Beyond repair."

Ken didn't speak. He just stared, then looked away, shaking his head slowly.

Nicole stayed beside the Prince, whispering soft things—reassurances he couldn't hear. She looked up at us eventually, her eyes glassy.

"Dain really did this to a Kid...?"

Neither of us had an answer.

"What do we do with him?" Ken asked, his back still turned to us.

Silence followed, thick and heavy. Nicole didn't answer. She hadn't said a word since we found Elias huddled in the corner of that cursed room. Her hand was still on his shoulder, like if she let go, he might shatter all over again.

I looked at them both. Ken tapping on his gun holster like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. Nicole lost in her own storm of thoughts. And the kid… just gone. Blank. Unreachable.

I sighed, rubbing the back of my head. "We take him somewhere safe," I muttered. "Then we go pay a visit to Maverick."

Nicole finally turned to me. Her voice was soft, uncertain. "Somewhere safe? Where would be safe for him?"

"That's for Helen to decide," I said, meeting her gaze.

Ken stepped forward, jaw clenched. "So, we drop the kid off at the school and come back for the King?"

I shook my head. "Too much hassle. Time we don't have."

I extended a hand, and my shadow responded instantly—stretching and forming until a perfect clone of me stood beside us. "He'll take the boy to the school, explain things to Helen," I said. "We move on the palace now."

Nicole blinked at the clone, then looked back at me. Her expression was unreadable, but she nodded.

Ken just muttered, "Good," and turned toward the exit.

The clone knelt beside Elias, gently lifting him as the boy stared into nothing. Nicole hesitated, watching them go—then turned, her eyes sharper now.

We didn't speak much on the way to the palace.

The terrain shifted as we moved through the outer corridors of the capital—once grand structures now cast in eerie silence. No guards in sight, no civilians on the roads. It was as if the city held its breath, waiting for something to break. Even the wind moved differently, sharp and cutting.

Ken walked ahead, his steps heavier than usual. His hand no longer tapping his holster—it was resting on it, ready. Nicole moved slower, more cautiously. I didn't need to ask what she was thinking. I could see it in the way she looked at every corner, every shadow.

She didn't trust this place. Neither did I.

As we approached the palace gates, the golden banners bearing Maverick's insignia—black phoenixes rising in flames—flapped in the wind. Guards finally came into view, standing at attention, watching us approach.

I didn't stop.

"Hold!" one barked, stepping forward. "State your business—"

Ken moved like a ghost. One second the guard was talking, the next he was unconscious, crumpled on the ground. Nicole didn't even flinch. I walked past without a word.

The moment we entered the palace proper, the air changed again. Colder. Quieter. The kind of silence you only hear before a storm.

Hallways stretched endlessly, every corner lit by crystalline sconces pulsing with arcane energy. I could feel the shadows pressing against the walls, eager, almost excited.

"They know we're here," Nicole said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Let them," I replied.

We took the central hall. Maverick's throne room stood at the far end, grand doors shut but not locked.

I stepped forward, placing my hand against the cold obsidian wood. The doors creaked open with a slow groan.

There he was.

Sitting lazily on his obsidian throne, King Maverick—draped in violet and black robes, a goblet of wine in one hand. His crown crooked slightly, as if the weight of it no longer mattered. His eyes locked onto us.

"You finally came," he said, voice smug. "Took you long enough."

I didn't answer.

My shadow shifted around my feet, ready.

King Maverick's smirk vanished the moment we stepped closer.

"You dare walk into my throne room like this?" he snapped, rising to his feet. "You come here with blood on your hands and think I'll—"

"Spare us the royal tantrum," I cut in, my voice low, cold. "You know why we're here."

His eyes narrowed. He raised a hand, snapping his fingers.

Dozens of guards poured into the room from every side—elite knights in gleaming armor, enchanted blades drawn. Their steps were coordinated, their presence suffocating.

"Kill them," Maverick growled.

The room exploded into chaos.

Ken moved first—fluid and efficient. One shot, then two more. Heads snapped back. Armor shattered. The air rang with gunfire. Nicole leapt into the air, her whips lashing with hellfire, slicing through shields and skin alike. I summoned my scythe, letting it slam down into the floor—shadow spikes erupted beneath our feet, skewering two guards at once.

They came at us fast—but we were faster.

Within seconds, bodies littered the polished floor, blood painting the once-immaculate marble. Groans and dying screams echoed through the massive hall. One by one, the guards fell—some cut in half, others burned, shattered, or collapsed from precise gunshots to the head.

And then, silence again.

Only Maverick remained—backed up against his throne, chest heaving. The crown on his head trembled.

Nicole stepped forward, her eyes blazing.

"Tell us everything," she ordered. "Now. Or I swear I'll burn your palace to the ground with you inside it."

He tried to maintain composure, but the way he trembled gave him away.

"They approached me…" he finally croaked.

Nicole didn't move, didn't speak. Just stared.

"A group… calling themselves Hunters," Maverick said, swallowing hard. "They promised power—wealth. Said they could help me expand my kingdom beyond borders I'd never dreamed of. All they needed was… access. A place to work. Some of the villagers."

Nicole's fists clenched. Ken's jaw locked.

"And you just let them?" I asked, voice thick with disgust.

Maverick's eyes darted between us. "You don't understand… they were persuasive. They showed me things. Their science—it was beyond anything I've seen. They said the sacrifices were necessary to create something greater. A world reborn."

"By butchering children?" Nicole snapped.

The King couldn't look at her.

I stepped forward, closing the distance until I stood before the once-mighty ruler of this kingdom. My scythe scraped the floor behind me.

"I don't care how persuasive they were," I said coldly. "You handed your people over like cattle. You killed your knight's son. You don't deserve that crown."

His lip trembled, but he said nothing.

"Liam," Nicole said behind me, voice calmer now, "What do we do with him?"

I stared into Maverick's eyes for a long moment.

Then I smiled—but there was no warmth in it.

"Let's give the people a chance to decide."

The throne room doors burst open with a thunderous boom.

I'd sent my shadow clone ahead, rallying the villagers and dragging the truth into daylight. Now, they poured in like a flood—men, women, and children, their faces twisted with confusion, grief… and rage.

Behind them, the prince's clone—my clone—stood silently, a trembling Elias in its arms. The boy's hollow stare was enough to make even the most hardened hearts break. Murmurs spread like wildfire as they recognized their missing prince—and the bruises, the blankness in his eyes, the way he didn't react to anything around him.

Then came the testimonies.

The clone projected Dain's final words through my shadows—a memory stitched together from his confession. The villagers heard everything. About the alchemists. The kidnapped. The murdered. The boy.

About their King.

At first, there was silence. Then, sobs. Then, fury.

"No…"

"My son…"

"He told us they ran away…"

"My wife never came home—he said she drowned!"

Their grief twisted into something feral.

I stepped aside, giving them a clear view of the man on the throne.

King Maverick.

Or rather, the man who once called himself that.

"You—You bastards," Maverick croaked, pushing himself to his feet, his crown crooked. "You dare listen to these traitors?! I AM YOUR KING!"

But the crowd didn't care.

Stones flew first—small ones. Then bigger.

One hit his shoulder. Another, his cheek.

Nicole stood still, watching, eyes dim. Ken folded his arms, saying nothing, expression unreadable. I didn't stop them either.

"LIARS! I GAVE YOU EVERYTHING!" Maverick screamed.

A rock cracked against his temple. He staggered. More came. Dozens of them. Then hundreds.

He fell to his knees. Still shouting. Still pleading.

Until he wasn't.

Until he couldn't.

When it was over, all that remained was the bloodied, unrecognizable corpse of a man who had once ruled.

No one said anything for a while. The villagers stood still, as if waking from a nightmare.

Nicole finally exhaled. "It's over."

"Not yet," I muttered. "We still have Hunters to deal with."

She nodded slowly.

Behind us, Ken spoke at last. "Let's hope they're not watching."

The torches along the narrow spiral staircase sputtered as we descended into the belly of the palace. Each step echoed with the weight of everything that had just happened.

The air grew colder the deeper we went—stale and metallic, like the breath of something dead. The tension was thick. No one spoke. Nicole walked just ahead of me, her shoulders taut, while Ken brought up the rear, his hand never straying far from his gun.

We reached the bottom—an old, rust-covered door awaited us.

I pushed it open with a creak, revealing a long hallway cloaked in shadows.

We stepped in, and it was like walking into a grave.

The underground laboratory stretched wide before us—rows of empty tables, shattered glass, metal restraints, broken chains, and vacant operating stations. But everything else… gone. No records. No vials. No bodies. Not even blood.

"Shit…" Ken muttered, his eyes scanning the room. "They cleaned it."

"Fast," I said, moving slowly through the ruin. "Too fast."

Nicole wandered toward one of the tables, her fingers brushing over its cold surface. "It's like they were never here…"

I crouched beside a large burn mark etched into the floor. Whatever they used to wipe this place, it scorched every trace of their existence.

"They knew we were coming," I said. "Or maybe… they planned for this."

Nicole froze. Her gaze shifted to the far end of the lab—where a single wall stood untouched. Unlike the rest of the sterile white, it was charred black with a symbol etched in ash.

The emblem of the Hunters Organization.

A fang through an eye.

Bold. Mocking. Final.

Ken walked over, staring at it with clenched fists. "They left this on purpose."

"Of course they did," I muttered. "It's a signature."

Nicole's voice was soft but sharp. "They want us to know this isn't over."

I looked at her. Then at Ken. Then back at the smirking emblem on the wall.

"No," I said, turning away. "It's just the beginning."

Ken took one last glance at the emblem before turning away with a shake of his head. "Whatever mission they had here, it's done. All we're looking at now is ash."

Nicole remained still, her eyes fixed on the symbol. "We were too late…"

I stepped beside her. "No. We stopped a mad king. Exposed the truth. Saved the Prince. That's more than most ever get to do."

She turned to me, weary but grateful.

Ken adjusted his coat and started walking toward the exit. "Our mission's done here. Time to head back."

"To Helen," I added, falling in step beside him. "She needs to know everything."

Nicole gave one last glance around the desolate lab before following.

We left the lab behind—silent, cold, and empty. But our next move was clear. This chapter of war might've closed, but the book wasn't done. Not by a long shot.

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