Actually, they didn’t stab them like the other cultists.
Just put them in a dungeon.
Prison wasn’t what Kian had expected. It was worse.
The walls sweated. The ceiling dripped. The cot was basically a mossy board with a grudge.
And the sheer number of cockroaches and mice?
Unholy.
“I swear one of them just tried to take my boot,” Kian said, pulling his legs up. “Not nibble. Take.”
Zeyk didn’t even look up. He was sitting against the far wall, arms crossed, staring into space.
“Maybe it wants to escape too,” he muttered. “Take the boot, start a new life. Be free.”
“This is ridiculous,” Kian snapped. “We weren’t even in the cult. We were spying on the cult. We were doing their whole city a favor.”
Zeyk finally looked at him. “You think they care?”
“No. No, I think they’re going to let us rot here while they figure out how to apologize for almost executing the actual good guys.”
“You’re assuming they know who the good guys are.”
Silence.
Drip.
Drip.
Scritch-scritch-scritch.
“I hate this,” Kian whispered. “I hate this so much.”
“Then let me ease your suffering.” A dark raspy voice echoed through the walls.
A woman in black robes walked into their cell, escorted by two soldiers.
“I am Agatha, and I will be your companion for today.”
Kian was damn sure he didnt wan’t the company of a woman that creepy for even a minute, much less a day.
Agatha took a slow step forward. The soldiers moved with her—until she lifted a pale hand.
“That will be all,” she said coolly. “Leave us. Doors open.”
The two soldiers hesitated.
“My lady, protocol—”
“I am protocol,” she said, without raising her voice. “Go.”
They obeyed, their boots echoing down the hall as they vanished from sight. The iron-barred door creaked open, left wide.
Kian and Zeyk exchanged a look.
Agatha smiled—thin, sharp, and humorless.
“If you want,” she said, turning toward them, “you can run. I won’t stop you.”
She stepped aside, gesturing to the open path like a gracious hostess.
“Really. Get up. Sprint down the hall. Freedom’s right there.”
Kian narrowed his eyes.
Agatha tilted her head. “But the second you step outside this building, the guards on the roof will shoot you down without hesitation.”
Her eyes sparkled with something cold.
“No warning. No second chance. Just a bolt through the heart and a brief moment of surprise before the ground kisses your face.”
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She stepped forward again, folding her hands neatly in front of her.
“Now. Shall we talk?”
Zeyk sat up straighter. Kian didn’t move.
Agatha watched them both like a scientist with two twitchy lab rats.
“Names,” she said. “Start there.”
Zeyk hesitated. “We—uh—”
Agatha raised an eyebrow.
“I know who you are,” she said, voice low and smooth. “I want to hear it from you.”
“…Zeyk,” he muttered. “He’s Kian.”
Kian gave a small wave without meeting her eyes. “Hi.”
“And what, exactly, were you doing at the cult gathering?” she asked.
“We were following a tip,” Zeyk said. “We thought we could—”
“Spy?” she interrupted.
He nodded.
“On a cult,” she repeated. “Armed, secretive, and notoriously bloodthirsty. With no backup. And no plan.”
Zeyk said nothing. Kian muttered, “We had a plan. Sort of.”
Agatha smiled. “You had hope and poor decisions.”
She stepped closer. The shadows around her seemed to deepen as if her presence pulled the light in.
“And who tipped you off?” she asked.
Silence.
Kian looked at Zeyk. Zeyk looked at the ground.
Agatha sighed.
“Uncooperative. Unwise.”
She raised a single finger—and pain lanced through Kian’s skull.
He gasped, clutching his head as a deep, echoing pressure sank into his mind like claws scraping at the inside of his brain.
Zeyk lunged to help, but stumbled as the same agony crashed down on him too—sharp, twisting, invisible.
Agatha’s voice was cold steel.
“I am a mage of the city, authorized to use intrusive mental measures in defense of the public good. You may not like this, but I’m not here to play good guard.”
Kian fell to one knee, shaking.
“Stop—!”
“Then talk,” Agatha said, stepping into the cell like a shadow given form. “Or I keep digging.”
What was he supposed to say?
God sent me. I’m here to save the world.
That definitely makes a lot of sense.
There was one thing he could do.
He reached inside himself, looking for that spark. The spark that the gods had given him.
Emotion
The spark flared.
He flung it outward - at Agatha
For a moment
Her eyes widened. She stumbled back half a step, clutching her head with one hand.
For a moment, Kian thought it was working.
Then she straightened. Blinked. And stared down at him like he was a curious insect.
“Mind magic?” she said, voice sharp and disdainful. “Fascinating.”
Zeyk tried to rise, but she shoved him back to the wall with a wordless burst of pressure. Her hand glowed, and Kian could feel her building for something worse—something deeper.
“Yet compared to mine, a pitiful attempt.”
The air pulsed.
And then—
FLASH.
The world cracked open like an egg. Light poured through reality itself.
A sudden burst of light swallowed the cell. White-hot. Weightless.
Agatha staggered. Her mouth opened in surprise, but no sound came out. Her eyes rolled back—and she collapsed.
The room flickered out of existence.
____________________________________________________________________________
Kian blinked.
He was lying in grass.
Golden blades swayed gently in the breeze, humming with some soundless song. Above him, the sky burned with stars that moved like waves—constellations alive and shifting.
WAIT. Alive and Shifting?
That was enough to wake him up.
tellll me
tellll me
tellll me
tellll me
tellll me
tellll me
tellll me
tellll me
tellll me
tellll me
tellll me
tellll me
tellll me
tellll me
tellll me
tellll me
tellll me
tellll me
tellll me
tellll me
tellll me
tellll me
tellll me
tellll me
