Page 114 of The Ascended
The Shadowkin bowed again before dissolving into the shadows.
“Prisoner?” I asked, seizing the opportunity to finally get some answers. “Is that why we’re here?”
“If your brother hadn’t eliminated Drakor, I wouldn’t be dealing with such mundane matters,” Xül replied, irritation clear in his tone. “His absence has... redistributed certain responsibilities that I, as Warden, should not have to subject myself to. But we have yet to find a replacement, so here I find myself.”
“Where exactly are we going?”
He stopped walking, turning to face me directly. “The Prison of the Damned.”
My stomach dropped. “What?”
“Did you think the name was metaphorical?” His expression suggested mild amusement at my discomfort.
“And why exactly am I coming along on this delightful excursion?”
“Consider it educational.” He resumed walking, forcing me to hurry after him. “The Trials aren’t merely about combat or survival, starling. They’re about understanding the divine domains in all their aspects—even the unpleasant ones.”
We crested a final rise, and I saw it. Unlike the elegant towers of the main city, the Prison was a jagged mass of dark stone. No windows pierced its walls, no ornamentation softened its brutal lines. It stood separate from the city proper, as if even death wanted distance from what lay within.
“It’s... not what I expected,” I managed, fighting the urgeto back away.
“Few things are.” Xül’s expression changed, hardening. The mentor I knew—irritating, arrogant, occasionally almost mortal—disappeared, replaced by the Warden of the Damned in truth rather than just title.
For the first time since arriving in Draknavor, I felt truly afraid of him.
We approached the Prison’s single entrance—a towering arch inscribed with warnings:Abandon hope. Abandon memory. Abandon self.
“Stay close,” Xül commanded, his voice dropping to a register that seemed to vibrate in my bones.
The massive doors swung open at his approach, revealing darkness so complete it seemed solid. Xül stepped forward without hesitation, and after a moment’s paralyzing doubt, I followed him.
Shadowkin guards stood at attention, their forms more substantial here than in the city proper. They bowed as Xül entered, the movement rippling through their ranks.
“My lord.” A Shadowkin separated from the others. “The prisoner awaits in the third interrogation chamber.”
“Vareth.” Xül acknowledged him with a nod. “What do we know?”
“A Lightbringer, my lord. Captured in the lower archives. Claims to be a diplomatic messenger.” Vareth’s tone made it clear what he thought of this explanation. “We’ve confirmed he carries no official credentials.”
“A spy, then.” Xül sounded almost bored. “How unimaginative.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Xül turned to me, his expression unreadable. “You may observe from the alcove. But you will remain silent and out of sight. Understood?”
I nodded.
Vareth led us down a darkened corridor. The occasional moan or distant scream filtered through the stone, raising thehair on the back of my neck. I fought to keep my expression neutral, unwilling to give Xül the satisfaction of seeing my discomfort.
The interrogation chamber was stark and utilitarian—a single chair in the center surrounded by markings etched into the floor. Vareth directed me to a small observation alcove set into the wall, where I could watch without being immediately visible.
Chained to a chair was a being of pure light who didn’t even turn to look at Xül when he entered.
“Let’s not waste time,” Xül said. “We both know why you’re here.”
“I am a diplomatic messenger,” the Lightbringer insisted. “This detention violates all protocols between domains.”
“Diplomatic messengers carry credentials.” Xül circled the chair slowly. “They announce themselves at proper entry points. They don’t skulk in restricted archives.”
