The world was a blur of muffled footsteps and heavy breathing.
Evan had been blindfolded tightly, the reinforced bandage pressing into his eyes and jaw. It dulled his senses, smothering both sight and speech. Each jostle by the guards sent a fresh wave of pain through his starving body. His muscles ached from dehydration and exhaustion, and the bitter taste of iron lingered on his tongue.
After what felt like hours of cold stone beneath his boots, he was finally shoved forward. The blindfold was yanked off, and the sudden flood of light forced him to squint. Before he could fully adjust, rough hands shoved him through an iron gate. He stumbled inside, falling to one knee as the barred door slammed shut behind him.
The scent of mold, sweat, and rust clung to the prison like a curse. Faint candlelight flickered from outside the cell corridor, casting long shadows across the damp walls. Evan leaned against the stone, catching his breath, his vision still hazy.
Then a voice—rough, suspicious, and not unfriendly—broke the silence.
"What foolish thing did you humans do to end up here, huh?"
Evan flinched slightly. The voice wasn't a guard. It came from the adjacent cell. He turned his head, slowly crawling toward the sound.
"Who are you?" Evan rasped, throat raw from days without food.
"The name's Jogg," the man replied. "Now crawl to the corner. There's a hole in the wall—see for yourself."
Dragging his weary body to the far corner, Evan peered through a chiseled gap between two loose stones. His eyes widened. The man staring back had dark hair, lean features, and a presence that felt strangely familiar.
"…Silas?" Evan whispered.
Jogg's eyes sharpened. "What did you just say?"
"I… I know that face. You're Silas. You were with us—at the lake. You used illusion magic to appear human."
Jogg's expression twisted into a glare. "How do you know my brother's name? Who the hell are you?! Where is he?!"
Evan blinked. "Wait… You're not Silas?"
"No," Jogg growled. "Silas is my twin. And a weak one at that. "
Evan's mind spun. "But… he helped us. Led us to a ruin, claimed to be tracking down chaos remnants. He was mysterious, but—"
"You were duped," Jogg said, voice rising with frustration. "My brother couldn't use a spark of magic if his life depended on it. His magic core shattered when we were kids. That means someone used his face. Illusion magic at that level isn't just rare—it's dangerous."
Evan sat in stunned silence. The man they trusted, who guided them and then vanished—he wasn't Silas. He was someone else.
"…Then who did we meet?"
Jogg calmed slightly, shaking his head. "If you met someone who looked like my brother, odds are he's dead. My brother and his wife went missing near the border years ago. We searched for weeks. Found nothing."
Evan exhaled slowly, guilt rising in his chest. "We found two bodies on the lake near the border. Elf corpses, drained of energy—magic twisted out of them. We buried them. Gave them a proper resting place."
For a moment, Jogg said nothing. Then he turned away from the hole.
"…Thanks," he muttered. "If that was them, at least they're not lost anymore."
The silence that followed wasn't heavy with sadness—it was thick with quiet understanding.
After a long pause, Jogg spoke again. "So, what got you tossed in here?"
Evan leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "A setup. Our team was investigating under an agreement between the two kingdoms. We found a destroyed Elven carriage and then got ambushed. They accused us of kidnapping Princess Lilia."
"Wait… Princess Lilia?" Jogg muttered. "She was guarded by Sir Eldwin himself. No one in their right mind would attack her. Except maybe…"
He trailed off.
"…Except who?" Evan pressed.
"There was someone once—Eldwin's former apprentice. A prodigy. Name was Lodach. Cold, brilliant, dangerous. Disappeared a few years back. Rumor says he was researching chaotic energies. And he had a talent for illusion magic."
Evan's eyes widened. "Lodach…"
Jogg nodded. "If anyone could impersonate someone else, hijack the situation and disappear in a puff of smoke—it's him. He wouldn't just do it for power. He'd do it to break everything and watch how it falls apart."
Jogg leaned forward again. "This could get bad. Real bad."
"…You think he's behind this?"
"I don't know," Jogg admitted. "But it fits. And if Lodach's involved, we've got more to worry about than just kingdoms at war."
Evan let his head rest against the wall, overwhelmed.
Jogg sighed. "Get some rest. We'll talk more tomorrow. Something tells me this nightmare's just getting started."
The Next Day
Evan's sleep was shallow and dreamless. His body ached from lying on cold stone. The sound of metal boots roused him from the haze—Elven guards unlocking his cell.
Without a word, they dragged him up, blindfolded him again, and marched him down a narrow corridor. After a while, the cloth was removed, and he blinked into the sterile emptiness of a room unlike any dungeon.
White marble walls. A single table. Two chairs.
And standing in front of him—Andra.
The advisor's gaze was sharp as ever, no longer mocking. He motioned the guards away. Once they were alone, he leaned forward on his staff.
"What is your motive?" he asked coldly.
Evan blinked. "What—?"
Andra cut him off with another question. "Who gave the order to enter Elven territory? Were you ordered to kill the Princess?"
"No!" Evan replied. "We were authorized by your own kingdom! We received a scroll from Clares."
"Forged," Andra hissed. "Conveniently, your envoy made it back with a document no one authorized. Tell me, Captain—do you think that kind of forgery just slips past our court?"
Evan clenched his fists. "We were tricked. I suspect an illusionist fugiti—"
Andra's staff struck the floor sharply. "Then let me ask something more specific—who destroyed the golem?"
Evan blinked. "The… golem?"
Andra stepped forward, his expression dark. "The one we found deep beneath Clares—in the forbidden ruins sealed since before my time. That golem was a relic of the ancient era. A construct that should have been unreachable."
Evan's mind reeled. "Wait… beneath Clares?"
"Yes," Andra snapped. "It was shattered. We detected marks left by steel—precise sword strikes matching human swordplay. Your team never reported anything about it. Why?"
And then it clicked.
The ruins—the strange chamber, the oppressive aura, the battle they thought occurred somewhere near the lake… It hadn't been the lake at all. It was below Clares. They had been transported. Silas. He must have used a rift portal and disguised the location with illusion magic.
Evan swallowed hard. "We didn't know where we were. That place… we thought it was near the lake. But it wasn't. Silas led us there."
Andra's eyes sharpened. "Silas?"
"He called himself that. An elf. We thought he was helping us—but everything he said… everything he did now feels like a lie."
Andra exhaled sharply. "You mean he opened a rift without you knowing?"
Evan nodded. "We had no idea. It's how he got us into those ruins."
Andra lowered his staff slightly, lips pursed. "Then it's worse than I thought…"
He looked back at Evan. "And the 'Key'—the one used to unseal the golem—is missing. Someone stole it. That theft, and the destruction of the construct, cannot be ignored."
He stepped closer, the tip of his staff pressing lightly under Evan's jaw.
"This is your last chance. Who used the Key? Who destroyed the golem? And what else do you know about that man's identity?"
Evan swallowed. He wasn't afraid to die. But war? War would consume everyone—Runa, Yvette, Ourri, even innocent villages.
He had to play it smart.
"…If I tell you what we know," Evan said carefully, "Will you help me uncover the truth? Will you stop this madness?"
Andra paused.
"…I know your team didn't kidnap the Princess," he admitted. "But you know something about the golem. And the Key. So speak."
Evan nodded and began to explain. Silas—no, the imposter—his sudden appearance, the attacks, the false permits, the strange behavior. He told Andra everything, except the more classified details of the Guild's archives.
By the end, Andra's face had gone pale.
Without a word, he turned and exited the room.
The door slammed shut behind him, and Evan was once again alone.
Alone, but not without hope.