Aeren moved deeper into the prison's bowels, the air thick with the stench of rotting flesh and blood long since dried into the stones. In one dimly lit cell, he found her—Lira. She was still conscious, shackled with mana-restricting chains, her eyes darting frantically to every shadow.
Her head jerked toward the faint scrape of a boot.
"Hello, Lira," Aeren's voice came, so quiet it was almost part of the darkness.
She froze, then followed the voice.
"It's you," she whispered.
"Yes, it's me."
"What are you doing here? Where are we? I… smell blood everywhere."
Aeren's expression didn't change. "Are you an idiot, or do you just not want to believe it?"
She opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself.
"Renn," Aeren said, almost musing, "is more talented than I thought."
Lira hesitated. "Why are you doing this?"
"What do you mean?"
Her lips trembled. "Why… did you capture me?"
Aeren's gaze was flat. "You have something I want. Nothing more than self-interest."
Without another word, he unlocked her chains and dragged her to a cold, iron table in the center of the room. The surface was slick from previous work, and the stench of old blood clung to it like oil.
He did not use his paralytic poisons—he knew they wouldn't work on her. Instead, he began immediately, tools clinking softly, deliberate and precise. The first incision split skin; the next exposed pale muscle.
Lira's scream tore through the chamber.
"Ahhhhhhh! Please… Aeren… let me—"
Her voice was cut off by a choked sob as he peeled back layers of flesh to inspect the underlying tissue, his hands steady, his eyes sharp with cold curiosity.
"Help! Anybody! Renn—please!"
Blood welled and ran in rivulets down her sides, pooling beneath her. He noted how her mana pathways reacted under extreme trauma, carving another line into her shoulder. She convulsed, her voice breaking into a wet gasp.
Her cries grew weaker, each plea drowned beneath the sound of metal against bone.
Then, in the distance, a faint mechanical buzz—Aeren's silent cue to stop.
He stepped back, wiped his hands, and without so much as a glance, left her sprawled on the table. Her body was a map of fresh cuts, skin peeled back in places to reveal trembling, bloody muscle. Blood dripped steadily from the table's edge to the floor, like water from a broken pipe. She barely breathed, her eyes glassy.
---
When Aeren returned to House Verdan, the night was far from quiet. Guards at the main gate spotted him immediately, murmuring to each other and sending word inside.
Moments later, Isolde, Renn, and Liora came rushing out, worry etched into their faces. Eldric followed close behind.
"Where were you?" Eldric demanded.
"I was training outside," Aeren replied without hesitation.
"And how did you get past the gates?" Eldric's eyes narrowed.
"I… jumped the wall."
It was a lie, but Eldric couldn't prove it. He knew how silent Aeren could be—if the boy had more formal combat training, Eldric would've made him an assassin.
Renn cut in, frowning. "Why are you training this late? We thought you'd been kidnapped."
Aeren dropped his gaze. "I don't have any other time. I can only train at night."
Isolde's voice came next, softer. "You could have asked me. I would have helped you." She wanted him to rely on her.
Then Liora added sharply, "You don't even trust your master. Miss Isolde would have helped you gladly."
Aeren's eyes flicked to each of them. His lips trembled.
"I'm… sorry. I just…"
Tears welled, catching everyone off guard. Even Renn froze for a moment before stepping forward and hugging him.
Hours later, the tension had eased.
Aeren finally made it back to his room, his steps heavy but unhurried. The moment the door closed behind him, he stripped away his clothes and washed himself, letting the water carry away the traces of the night's work.
When he was done and dressed in fresh clothes, a knock came at his door.
He opened it to find Liora standing there.
"Lady Isolde asked me to tell you—" she hesitated briefly, her eyes flicking over him, "—you're granted a day of rest. You can take today off."
Without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked away down the corridor.
Aeren stared at the closed door for a moment, then let out a quiet breath and lay down on his bed. Sleep came quickly, and he didn't wake again until nightfall.
When his eyes opened, he noticed someone sitting in the corner.
Renn.
The boy was leaning casually against the wall, reading one of Aeren's books.
Aeren narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing here?"
Renn closed the book halfway but didn't look up. "I came to help you with training," he said casually, "but then I saw you sleeping. So I started reading." His tone shifted slightly, almost as if savoring the words. "And then… I found your diary by accident."
Silence spread through the room like a slow-moving shadow.
The two boys locked eyes. Neither spoke. The air felt heavier by the second, as if even the walls were holding their breath.