CHAPTER 28: Beneath Chains and Shadows

"Some fires are born not in sunlight, but in the dark — where hope flickers, and brave hearts dare to burn anyway."

Chains bit into wrists. Darkness pressed against the soul.

Ashix stirred, aching. Every breath pulled through him like shards of glass. The dungeon was carved from cold black stone, damp with centuries of despair. No moonlight, no torch. Only the rhythmic drip of water and distant cries from other prisoners told them they were still alive.

Marini was shackled beside him, her lip split and blood dried along her cheek. Elira sat a few feet away, arms bound, her eyes half-lidded in exhaustion. Naru, too, had been thrown into a crude iron cage, unmoving but alive — barely. The magical aura around him had dimmed dangerously low.

Ashix's first attempt to move shot pain through his ribs. Memories of the ambush, the fight, and their failed escape flooded back. They had taken down nearly a dozen guards with everything they had, but they were outnumbered, drugged, and beaten into submission. Even Naru's telepathic cry had faltered.

A heavy metal door creaked open, echoing across the chamber. A single guard approached, torch in hand. His armor bore the sigil of Kael Thorne: a blackened flame engulfing a chained crown.

"You'll rot here until the king deems your heresy fit for execution," he growled, his voice thick with contempt.

He spat at Ashix's feet before slamming the door shut again.

Moments passed. Maybe hours. The dungeon had no time.

Then, a soft whisper: "Psst. Hey… Hero of the Light."

Elira leaned forward. "Why help us? If they catch you—"

"I don't serve Veyon," Toren said sharply. "Not truly. My father died under his rule. A man who dares call Kael a god deserves no throne. I'd rather die helping you than live chained to his lies."

Marini nodded slowly. "Then we move at your word."

The night had swallowed the castle of Thandor in solemn silence, but beneath its cobblestone foundations, within tunnels long forsaken by most, rebellion stirred.

Toren, the boy who had shown them kindness amidst the cruelty of Veyon's court, moved swiftly with a torch in hand, his breath sharp and tense. Behind him, Ashix, Elira, Marini, and a limping Naru followed in tight formation. Their bodies still bore bruises from the tortures, and Marini's left eye had barely opened from the swelling. Yet in their eyes burned a fierce determination: freedom or death.

"Stay close," Toren whispered. "This tunnel leads out beyond the northern watchtower. But we won't go unnoticed for long."

The walls trembled above them—rumors of alarms already spreading. The king's guards had discovered the cell empty.

As they neared the final stretch of the underground path, a heavy iron door stood in their way. Toren fumbled with a rusted set of keys, hands trembling.

"We're not safe yet," he muttered. "Once I open this, we'll be right beneath the throne hall. It's a cursed shortcut… but it's the only way."

Ashix nodded. "We'll face whatever's waiting."

The door creaked open. What they saw wasn't freedom—but a trap.

Atop the grand staircase of Thandor's throne hall stood King Veyon, a towering man with deep golden armor inscribed with Kael Thorne's sigils. His red cape billowed like blood-drenched wings, and his eyes gleamed with hatred as he raised a jeweled sword.

"You dare escape my dungeon? Did you think I wouldn't smell the stench of rebellion on that little rat, Toren?"

Guards spilled from both sides of the room, spears drawn. But Ashix stepped forward, a new light flaring from the sword at his hip—the spirit blade gifted by the guardian spirit.

Toren turned to him. "This is your chance. Take it."

Ashix didn't hesitate. "Let's finish this."

And like a storm, the clash erupted.

Elira spun through the air, daggers flashing, slicing through the first wave of guards. Marini, though weakened, formed a protective barrier around Naru and hurled focused blasts of energy to scatter their enemies.

Ashix launched himself at King Veyon, the light of his blade colliding with the black steel of the king's sword. Sparks exploded with every strike.

"You are nothing but a flickering candle," Veyon growled, shoving Ashix back. "Kael Thorne's darkness will smother your light!"

Ashix rolled aside, slashing at the king's side. "Maybe. But even a flicker can burn!"

They circled each other. The throne room rattled with the cries of battle and the shrieks of magic colliding. Veyon lunged again, sword swinging with monstrous force. Ashix blocked it just in time—but the blow pushed him down to one knee.

Toren leapt in, skewering a guard trying to strike Ashix from behind. But it was his final act—another spear plunged deep into Toren's side.

"Toren!" Elira cried, cutting down the attacker.

Ashix's fury ignited. With a roar, he surged upward, light blazing through the cracks of his blade. He struck Veyon across the face—searing a deep, cruel scar from brow to jaw. The king screamed, staggering back.

Ashix had him.

But he didn't strike again.

Veyon looked into Ashix's eyes. "Even if you kill me… you've already lost. Kael will break this world."

Then he vanished in a blast of smoke—some arcane escape spell. The coward had fled.

The battle had ended.

Ashix dropped to his knees beside Toren, who lay pale and gasping.

"You… kept your promise," Toren whispered, blood trickling from his mouth. "Get out… and finish this… for all of us who couldn't."

Ashix clenched his fist. "You'll be remembered. Always."

Toren's eyes dimmed, his chest stilled.

The others gathered quietly around him, tears mixing with dirt and blood. For a moment, even the air held its breath.

Then Marini looked up. "We need to go."

They found the tunnel Toren had mentioned. With Naru guiding them, they slipped through the narrow passageways that twisted beneath the walls of Thandor.

At dawn, they emerged on the outskirts of the kingdom.

The sky stretched open, pale and blue. Forests greeted them ahead. Behind them, the dark towers of Thandor loomed like jagged teeth.

They were free—but not untouched.

Ashix turned to take one last look at the kingdom. His hand drifted to the blade on his hip. "This isn't over," he said. "That scar… it's just the beginning."

And somewhere deep in the heart of Thandor, a furious king clutched his ruined face—swearing vengeance against the boy with light in his veins.