Northern Syria
Kurgansk's mountain.
The prison gates groaned open, metal screeching like a beast awakening. Refel's mind spun with questions, each one louder than the last.
Waiting on the other side was Lyra—Kurgansk's daughter, sharp-eyed and silent. She gestured for him to follow, her presence commanding, unblinking. Lulu trailed behind them, watching closely, as if she didn't fully trust either of them.
They walked in silence until Refel finally asked, "Why are you moving me to another cell?" His voice was flat, his face unreadable.
Lyra didn't break stride. "I'm not moving you to a cell," she said, pointing toward a glowing hallway veined with flickering red light. "You'll see."
The room they entered felt like a different universe. It pulsed with power, arcs of lightning snaked through spell-forged conduits, and flames danced inside shimmering portals etched with ancient runes. It wasn't a cell. No bars, no chains. Just raw, volatile magic humming in the air like a warning.
There was no way out. He could tell just by looking. If escape had once been a distant hope, here it was extinguished completely. But at least it was better than the filthy, crumbling hole they pulled him from.
"Why did you bring me here?" he asked.
Lyra's reply was cold, edged like broken glass. "Better to be clueless than sorry."
He blinked at her. "Then… that won't work for me."
(Chilling music swells…)
Refel lifted his arm, stepping into a fighting stance. His instincts flared like old war drums, and he struck first. A blur of motion—Lyra blocked the blow with practiced ease.
He didn't stop. His body moved with precision, each strike aimed to weaken her, to force an opening. But she was faster. Stronger. She caught his final blow and with a flash of her power, crushed the air in his lungs. He dropped to his knees, gasping.
"I'm... I'm sorry," he choked out.
Lyra's eyes glowed briefly. She released him, and air flooded back into his chest. He coughed violently.
"Why…" he began, but was cut short.
A thunderous crack split the room as Lyra summoned a wall of shimmering energy between them, sealing him inside. No door. No window. Just silence and power.
He staggered backward, staring. The room stretched before him vast, ominous. Power danced through the walls like electricity on water. Skulls littered the space, their empty sockets watching him.
He stepped toward one, reaching—
"Don't you dare," a voice boomed from nowhere.
His eyes narrowed. "Oh, you can see me. Where are you?"
He turned in slow circles, searching. But nothing revealed itself.
Then, like a dagger slicing through memory, a thought hit him.
---
"Refel, they're dead. Why don't you forget the past and focus on the future?"
Azra's voice, calm and tired, echoing from years ago.
Refel had stood at their parents' graves, hands trembling, eyes soaked in grief.
"Azra... I still feel bad for them. They never got to see us grow. I can't let go of how they died. I think... I think I'll stay in L.A. for now," he'd said, tears streaking down his face.
"Well, maybe that's why we're twins," Azra replied softly. "Things don't ever go the same way for you, do they?"
---
The memory vanished as quickly as it came.
Hot tears spilled down Refel's cheeks.
"Why am I crying?" he whispered. He wiped his face, confused. "I thought... I thought I was over this."
But maybe it was the ghosts. Maybe some grief never really dies.
**********
Kurgansk stared into the little fire dancing on his palm like it owed him rent. His eyes, half-possessed and half-bored, tracked Refel's every twitch.
"Majesty, seriously? Gonna burn holes into him with your eyes?" Lulu muttered, rolling his shoulders like the spotlight made him itch.
Kurgansk didn't blink. "Nah, Lulu. It's not that. Something's... off. Like rotten cheese, but invisible."
"So, uh, what's the plan? Besides creepy staring?"
"That room," Kurgansk said, gesturing vaguely with his flaming hand, "it can sniff out any hidden magic that punk might be hiding. All I gotta do is keep watching… maybe squint a little."
Right then, Lulu let out a scream that could crack glass, blood spurting out of her mouth like a horror show sprinkler. She reached out to touch Kurgansk dramatically, like a dying soap opera star—but he barely noticed.
And then he collapsed like a sack of bad decisions.
Five minutes later, he groaned awake.
"Lulu!" he barked, groggy but still dramatic.
"Huh? Yeah, still here, Majesty…"
"Are you stupid? Get me the melts!" he shouted, his eyes still glued to Refel like he was watching the series finale of a murder documentary.
Lulu zipped over and handed him a small vial.
"What even is that?" she asked, a little singed, a little traumatized.
Kurgansk turned, offended. "Fool! Have you lost your brain somewhere? This is cursed wind in a bottle! Do you not read the memos?!"
He uncorked the vial and blew the contents straight at Refel like he was sprinkling cursed paprika. Refel immediately dropped, choking and flailing like someone had shoved wasps down his throat. Kurgansk? He just laughed. Like, full villain monologue laugh.
"Poor child," he whispered with a smirk. "I'm so sorry."
Silence.
Then—BOOM.
A thunderous crack echoed from the Gates behind Kurgansk's chamber.
"Huh?" he snarled, spinning around, fire flickering like it too wanted answers.
[ Curtain ]