Three days later…
"Get in there!"
The guards shoved Aeron and the assassin into a small, dimly lit cell before slamming the iron door shut. The sound of metal grinding against metal echoed through the underground corridor.
Aeron stumbled forward slightly, his wrists weighed down by the heavy chain that bound him to the assassin. The six-foot-long chain, forged from a rare enchanted metal, glowed faintly under the torchlight seeping through the tiny barred slit in the cell door.
The room itself was cramped and suffocating, with cold, damp stone walls pressing in on them. There were no windows, no openings—just the iron door and the dim torchlight outside. The air was thick with the stench of sweat, rust, and damp earth.
One of the guards outside hesitated. "Is it really okay to put them together with just one chain?"
"That chain isn't just any chain," another guard scoffed. "It's reinforced with an unbreaking spell. Even if they try, they won't break free. And besides—" he chuckled darkly, "even if they somehow escape their cell, they'll still be trapped in the Hell of Eryndor."
The third guard laughed coldly. "No one escapes from here."
The Hell of Eryndor—the infamous capital prison. It sat atop a treacherous mountain, surrounded by roaring high-tide rivers that made any escape impossible. The prison was fortified with thousands of elite guards.
Their cell was buried deep underground in a maze of stone tunnels. There was only one way in or out—a long, heavily guarded corridor. Even if they escaped their shackles, they'd have to fight their way through an army just to breathe fresh air again.
Aeron sighed and leaned against the cold stone wall. The chain was short, forcing them to stay close—barely a few steps apart.
For a while, silence filled the room.
Aeron looked at the man before him, the assassin. He had been chasing him for years—searching for answers.
"Hey," Aeron finally spoke, his voice echoing in the quiet cell. "Who are you, exactly?"
No response.
Aeron frowned. "Can you hear me?"
The assassin remained silent, staring blankly at the ground.
"I have a lot to ask you," Aeron pressed, leaning forward slightly.
Still, no response.
Aeron gritted his teeth, frustration bubbling up. He asked the question that had been haunting him for months."Why do you always come to my dreams?"
The assassin didn't even flinch.
Now Aeron was pissed. He grabbed the assassin by the shoulder, shaking him. "I'm talking to you!"
In an instant, the assassin's hand shot out, gripping Aeron's wrist and shoving him backward.
Aeron's back slammed into the stone wall.
"Ah—damn it, that hurt," he groaned, rubbing his shoulder.
He exhaled sharply, trying to shake off the pain.
"Maybe you're not in the mood to talk because you got caught because of me," he muttered, sitting down again.
Still—silence.
Later That Night…
The cell door creaked open.
Aeron's eyes snapped open as the flickering torchlight spilled into the room.
Heavy boots clanked against the stone floor.
Sir Aamon stepped inside.
Aeron immediately sat up. Across from him, the assassin remained still—unbothered.
Aamon's gaze sharpened. "Wake him up."
The guards stepped forward. Without hesitation, they slammed the butts of their spears into the assassin's side, forcing him upright.
He didn't flinch—just sat up, his face unreadable.
Then, Advisor Tharok stepped inside.
He was holding a single parchment scroll in his hands.
His cold gaze swept over them before he unrolled the scroll and began reading in a formal, emotionless tone:
"I, Advisor Tharok, in the name of King Tharil Di Vorn of Eryndor, hereby declare—
Traitor Allesio and his comrades, for assassinating the previous King of Eryndor and attempting to assassinate the current king, will be executed three days from now."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Aeron's stomach dropped. His mind raced. "Executed? Three days?!"
Then, without another word, Aamon and Tharok stepped out of the cell.
The iron door slammed shut.
Aeron looked at the assassin—at Allesio.
"Hey, we have to get out of here," Aeron said urgently, his voice tense with determination.
Allesio remained silent, staring at the cold stone floor as if he didn't bothered.
"Hey! I'm talking to you!" Aeron grabbed Allesio's collar, shaking him slightly.
The assassin finally moved, his eyes sharp with warning. Just as he reached to grab Aeron's wrist, Aeron instinctively caught his hand. They locked eyes—Allesio's gaze was filled with fury, frustration, and something deeper… pain.
With a swift motion, Allesio shoved Aeron backward, slamming him against the Iron door.
The sudden noise alerted the guards outside.
"What's going on in there?" one of them barked, peering through the small metal opening in the door.
"They're fighting," another guard observed. "Open the gate!" he ordered.
The heavy iron door creaked open. The moment it did, Allesio moved like lightning—grabbing the nearest guard's spear and driving it through his chest. Aeron wasted no time, landing a solid punch to another guard's face, knocking him out cold.
Allesio turned and hurled his stolen spear at the farthest guard, impaling him before he could even react.
Aeron, spotting a wooden mug on a nearby table, grabbed it and hurled it at another guard's head. It wasn't a lethal strike, but it stunned him long enough for Aeron to seize the keys from the door lock.
They turned toward the last two guards. Allesio swiftly snapped one of their necks, while Aeron drove his fist into the other's stomach with enough force to make him double over and vomit.
"Let's go," Aeron said, breathing heavily.
But Allesio still remained silent.
As they rushed down the long corridor, more guards appeared, blocking their escape.
"Don't let them get away!" one shouted.
Aeron rolled to avoid an incoming spear, grabbing the arm of a nearby guard and slamming him into the stone floor.
Allesio, with terrifying precision, cut through three soldiers in a single fluid motion, his stolen weapon slicing through the air like a reaper's scythe.
For a brief moment, they gained some distance—only to be pulled back together by the chain binding them.
Aeron barely dodged a spear aimed at his head. "Damn it! Did you forget we're stuck together?" he snapped.
To counterbalance the chain's restriction, Aeron dived forward, forcing Allesio to move with him.
"Don't get in my way," Allesio growled, his voice filled with rage but suppressed with sufferings.
Aeron's eyes widened. It was the first time he heard Allesio's voice "Oh? So you can talk." He smirked, blocking another incoming strike from a guard.
"We don't have time for this," Allesio muttered, ignoring Aeron's remark.
Realizing they were outnumbered, they stopped fighting the guards and instead dashed toward the corridor's exit.
As they reached the end, they were met with an even bigger obstacle—hundreds of armed soldiers waiting for them on the base floor.
At the center of the formation stood the prison chief, a large man with a thick mustache and an arrogant smirk.
"How dare you try to escape?" he sneered, his voice laced with anger.
Allesio's eyes darted around, searching for an escape route. Then he saw it—a window, high on the stone wall, with the raging river far below.
"If we jump from there, we'll be swept away by the current," Aeron reasoned with Allesio
"We'll be fine," Allesio said, his voice unusually calm.
Something in the way he said it made Aeron trust him.
"Summon shadow" Allesio casted a spell that covered the entire area into darkness, making the guards blind
Without hesitation Aeron followed Allesio.
They sprinted forward, ignoring the guards
And together, they leaped into the river below.