The fiery tension in the dungeon.

Morning light seeped faintly through the narrow slits of the stone walls in the dungeon, casting long, thin beams onto the cold, damp floor. The air was heavy with the smell of rusted iron and sweat. In the center of the room, the fire beast sat chained and silent, its fiery eyes flickering like embers in the dark. Its presence was oppressive, an ever-present reminder of the kingdom's fragile victory.

Rhys stood at the edge of the chamber, his tall figure framed against the dim light. His arms were crossed, his face set in a grim expression as he watched the creature. Though his body still bore the aches of the grueling journey, he refused to rest. He had a duty, and nothing, not even exhaustion would stop him.

The sound of boots on stone echoed down the hallway, breaking the heavy silence. Rhys didn't even need to turn to know who it was. The arrogant stride was unmistakable.

The prince entered the dungeon with his usual air of self-importance, his cloak billowing behind him. His sharp gaze immediately landed on Rhys, and a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Still brooding, are we?" the prince said, his voice dripping with disdain. "Tell me, Rhys, do you ever take a moment to reflect on how far you've fallen?"

Rhys didn't respond immediately. His eyes remained fixed on the beast, as if the prince weren't even there. This only seemed to fuel the prince's irritation.

"You should be grateful, you know," the prince continued, stepping closer. "If it weren't for my leadership, we wouldn't have captured this creature at all. Perhaps it's time you admitted that your days of glory are gone."

" Mhh..." Rhys chuckled and finally turned his head, his expression calm but his eyes sharp. "Is that so?" he said quietly.

The prince's smirk widened. "You were always so self-righteous, so sure of your place in this kingdom. But look at you now, reduced to a mere soldier, no better than the rest."

Rhys took a step forward, his towering presence forcing the prince to tilt his head slightly to maintain eye contact. "You think your words affect me?" Rhys said, his voice low and steady. "I've fought battles you can't even begin to imagine. I've bled for this kingdom, stood on the front lines while you hid behind your walls. And yet, here you are, strutting around as if you've earned the respect of these people."

The prince's smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of anger. "And where were you during the war?" he shot back. "If you were so great, why didn't you lead the charge? Why weren't you there to save us from defeat?"

Rhys's jaw tightened, and for a moment, a shadow of guilt crossed his face. "You think I wanted to be bedridden?" he said, his voice colder now. "You think I chose to watch my kingdom suffer while I was helpless? I would have given anything to stand on that battlefield. But I wasn't there, and you were. And yet you failed."

The prince's face darkened, his fists clenching at his sides. "Don't you dare lecture me," he hissed. "You think you're better than me, don't you? Always looking down on me, judging me. Well, let me tell you something, Rhys. I don't need your approval. I'm the prince of this kingdom, and one day, I'll be king."

Rhys stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Then act like it," he said. "Stop blaming others for your weaknesses .Stop hiding behind your father and start earning the respect you so desperately crave. Be a man, not a coward."

The prince's face flushed with anger, but he said nothing. The silence between them was thick with tension, the air practically crackling with unspoken words.

Finally, with a grim face. The prince turned away, his cloak swishing behind him as he marched toward the exit. But just before he left, he paused, his voice cold and bitter.

"You're lucky," he said without looking back. "If it weren't for your reputation, you'd be nothing more than a footnote in this kingdom's history."

Rhys watched him go, his expression unreadable. But as the prince's footsteps faded, he turned back to the beast, his gaze hardening.

The fire beast met his eyes, its fiery orbs glowing faintly in the dim light. It didn't move, didn't growl or lash out. It simply watched, with unreadable expression but hauntingly intelligent.

Rhys sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. The weight of the prince's words lingered in his mind, but he refused to let them consume him. There were more important things to worry about, like the creature before him. 

Uneasiness was growing inside him with each passing hours of the beast's stay at the kingdom.

After Rhys and prince's quarrel in the morning. Later at evening, the prince threw a banquet to celebrate the victory on the beast's capturing .

The sound of muffled laughter and clinking glasses echoed faintly from the feast hall, where the prince's celebration was in full swing.

The courtyard outside the dungeon was bathed in moonlight, its silvery glow casting long, eerie shadows over the stone walls. The inside of it was warm and little of uneasiness hung in the air 

Rhys was leaning against the rough stone wall, a bottle of beer dangled loosely from his hand. His other hand held a half-smoked cigarette, its ember casting a dim orange glow in the darkness. He took a long drag, the smoke curling lazily around him before disappearing into the shadows.

He didn't care for the prince's feast. Victory meant little to him when it came at such a cost. His uneasiness deepening. He watched over the creature that seemed to haunt his every thought.

Two guards stood at the entrance to the beast's chamber, their spears glinting faintly in the light of the torches. Rhys waved them off with a flick of his hand. "Go," he said gruffly. "Enjoy your prince's feast. I'll watch over things here."

The guards hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances. "Are you sure, sir?" one of them asked.

Rhys nodded, his tone firm. "Go."

With a salute, the guards left, their footsteps fading up the stone staircase. Rhys was alone now, the only sound the faint crackle of the torches and the steady rhythm of the beast's breathing.

He slumped to the floor, resting his back against the wall. Taking another drag from his cigarette, he closed his eyes briefly, letting the silence wrap around him. But the peace was short-lived.

A faint, muffled sound reached his ears—a soft wiggling and a stifled whimper of pain. Rhys's eyes snapped open, his senses immediately on high alert. He pushed himself to his feet, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword.

The sound came again, this time louder. It was coming from the nearby tunnel that led deeper into the dungeon. Rhys frowned, his brows knitting together as he followed the noise.

As he rounded the corner, the sight that greeted him made him pause.