CHAPTER 27: The Thorns Beneath the Crown

"Not all prisons are forged with iron and flame; some are carved from fear, silence, and unseen chains. Beware the smile that hides a dagger, for the cruelest tyrants wear the finest crowns."

The cold stone floors beneath Ashix's back were slick with dampness, blood, and the heavy rot of centuries. He groaned, half-conscious, as torchlight flickered across the moss-covered walls of the underground dungeon. Shackles bound his wrists, and a sharp sting pulsed in his side where a guard's blade had left its mark during the chaos.

They had fought.

Oh, they had fought.

When the palace gates had closed behind them and the guards drew their spears, Elira was the first to strike — her dagger flashing in the air like silver lightning. Marini followed, wind-slicing through armor as she summoned her power. Even Naru had leapt upon a guard, fangs tearing into exposed throats with terrifying accuracy.

But it hadn't been enough.

Veyon's palace wasn't just a fortress — it was a maze of loyalists, hidden channels, and shadowy watchers who served Kael Thorne's name with blind zeal. For every soldier they cut down, two more seemed to rise. When the tide turned, they were overwhelmed, dragged through the marbled halls and flung into darkness.

Ashix rolled over slowly, catching sight of the others.

Elira hung from the wall, wrists chained above her head, a bruise swelling near her collarbone. Blood trickled from her lip, but her eyes were fierce — still burning.

Marini lay slumped nearby, unconscious or asleep — it was hard to tell. A gash across her leg had stained her trousers dark, and her breath was shallow but steady.

And Naru…

Naru was in a smaller cage across the room, glowing faintly, his fur matted with blood. He paced like a trapped storm, eyes locked on Ashix with a spark of wild telepathic worry.

"You're awake…" Naru's voice echoed weakly in his mind. "Good. Stay strong, Ashix. This place drains more than strength."

Footsteps echoed down the stairwell — heavy and deliberate.

The door swung open with a loud screech, and in walked Lord Halrix, the pale and grim-faced high inquisitor of Veyon's court. His black robes bore the blood-red crest of Kael Thorne's Eye, and around his neck hung a chain of bones — small, childlike, like trophies.

He stepped before Ashix and crouched.

"So," he said softly, almost kindly. "You're the boy of the Light. The one they whisper of in dreams… the one Kael wants broken."

Ashix spat at his feet. "Tell Kael Thorne he'll have to try harder."

Halrix smiled. "Oh, we intend to."

The torture wasn't a spectacle — it was surgical. For hours, they were dragged into a chamber where illusions danced upon walls, where screams echoed in chambers with no clear source. They were cut, starved, and made to watch each other suffer — but never allowed to die.

And Veyon himself — the self-proclaimed king — observed it all from his obsidian throne above, sipping wine made from berries grown in the cursed gardens of Thorne's cathedral.

He was a cruel man, tall and thin, with rings on every finger and a voice that dripped with venomous honey. His faith in Kael Thorne was absolute — a twisted gospel written in blood and fear.

Each day, he'd visit Ashix and mock him.

"Where is your light now, Starborn?" he'd whisper. "Can it save your friends? Can it soothe Marini's broken bones? Elira's burns? Or your own guilt?"

But what Veyon didn't know — what none of them knew — was that someone in the shadows was watching. Someone who still believed in the Light.

A servant, a boy no older than 15, slipped into the dungeons when all else was quiet. His name was Toren, and he bore no tattoos of Thorne, no chains of loyalty. He cleaned the cells, brought stale bread and murky water, and never spoke — until one night, he lingered.

Ashix looked up weakly as the boy knelt beside him.

"You're… you're the one in my sister's stories," Toren whispered. "She told me of a boy with light in his blood… a boy who would challenge the darkness."

Ashix blinked slowly. "Who… are you?"

"My name doesn't matter," Toren said. "But I can help. Not yet… not now. But soon. When the moon reaches its highest… I'll leave your cell door open and try to lead you out into the forest. But you must be ready. If you fail… I'll be caught. And they'll flay me alive."

Ashix nodded faintly. "We'll be ready."

The boy left just as silently.

That night, Ashix managed to whisper the plan to Elira. Marini stirred too, her voice hoarse, "We won't get another chance."

And Naru, eyes glowing faintly, growled low. "Let them try. I still have teeth."

As the next day dragged on, Halrix visited again. This time, he dragged in an object wrapped in cloth — something humming faintly with corrupted energy.

"This," Veyon said, "is a shard from the Seal Kael intends to break. With your light… and enough suffering… we believe it can be undone. You should feel honored."

He pressed it to Ashix's chest.

Pain like fire lanced through him, his marks glowing violently — but instead of surrendering, Ashix bit back a scream and channeled his light inward. The shard trembled, and Veyon stepped back in surprise, his hand blistered.

"You still resist," Veyon muttered, eyes narrowing. "Fascinating…"