Kieran awoke to darkness.

His head throbbed, a dull ache pulsing at his temples, and his limbs felt leaden, weighed down by unfamiliar restraints.

The air was damp and thick, carrying the metallic tang of rust and the faint stench of mildew.

He shifted, or tried to.

Cold metal bit into his wrists, neck, and ankles, shackles humming faintly with an unnatural energy that sent a tingling sensation through his skin.

The restraints pulsed periodically, suppressing something deep within him.

He clenched his fists, the drugged haze clouding his mind making it nearly impossible to focus.

Flashes of the Razorback fight danced through his thoughts.

The stranger’s mocking grin.

The bitter taste of defeat.

His wrath bubbled up, raw and unrelenting, a fire that refused to die even in the face of his despair.

He tugged against the restraints, but they held firm, their energy seeping into him, dulling his strength further.

His vision swam as he forced himself to focus.

The faint light from a distant torch revealed rough stone walls and jagged iron bars—a makeshift dungeon, hastily constructed but secure.

Every movement felt sluggish, as though his very blood had been thickened.

They drugged me.

The realization sent another surge of fury coursing through him.

Kieran gritted his teeth, his mind scrambling for clarity.

And then, like a spark in the void, the Crest responded.

The golden mark on his palm flared to life, faint but insistent, its warmth cutting through the fog in his mind.

At first, the light was weak, a flicker barely brighter than a dying ember.

But as his rage sharpened, his determination rising with it, the Crest pulsed stronger.

Its golden glow traveled up his arm, warmth spreading like wildfire.

His heart quickened, the haze lifting bit by bit as a sharp clarity pierced through the fog.

The toxins coursing through his body seemed to burn away under the light, leaving behind a sharp awareness.

His thoughts cleared.

His muscles steadied.

Even the throb in his head began to fade.

The Crest hummed faintly, its detoxifying effect undeniable, though it left him trembling with exertion.

He forced himself to look around.

That was when he noticed her.

The girl sat shackled beside him, bound as he was, with similar restraints on her wrists and ankles.

Her figure was slender but strong, her posture regal even in captivity.

She wore a tattered tunic, its once-fine fabric now dirt-streaked and frayed, though it did little to diminish her striking presence.

Her dark hair tumbled over her shoulders in wild, disheveled waves, catching the torchlight in faint glimmers of deep mahogany.

But it was her eyes that held him captive.

Golden and luminous, they seemed to cut through the dim light, locking onto his with an intensity that was both startling and unyielding.

It wasn’t just their color.

There was something unnatural in her gaze, as if she could see through him—past his flesh, his bones, to the very core of his being.

Kieran shifted uncomfortably under the weight of her stare, the Crest pulsing faintly in his palm as though responding to her presence.

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Her lips parted slightly, her expression one of surprise, but she said nothing.

Her golden eyes flicked to the glowing mark on his hand, widening almost imperceptibly before returning to his face.

“Who are you?” Kieran rasped, his voice hoarse from disuse.

The girl didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, her gaze lingered on him, her brow furrowing as though she were trying to piece together a puzzle only she could see.

Her silence unsettled him, though not as much as the way her eyes seemed to dissect him without malice, purely out of curiosity or calculation.

“Who are you?” he repeated, his tone sharper now, though it carried no real threat.

Finally, she spoke, her voice low and melodic, with a hint of something otherworldly beneath it.

“You’re... different,” she said, her words slow and deliberate, as if testing their weight.

Her eyes flicked back to the Crest, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“That mark... it’s not ordinary.”

Kieran’s jaw tightened.

He didn’t like her scrutiny, nor the implication in her tone.

“What do you know about it?” he asked, his voice colder than before.

The girl tilted her head slightly, her dark hair shifting like silk.

“No more than you,” she replied, her gaze unwavering.

Kieran leaned back against the wall, his fists clenching against the shackles.

He didn’t trust her, not in the least, but like her, he felt that something about her presence was... different.

There was no fear in her eyes, no trace of weakness despite their shared predicament.

Instead, there was a quiet strength, one that felt uncomfortably familiar.

Her gaze dropped to his shackles, then to her own.

“These aren’t meant for ordinary prisoners,” she said softly, more to herself than to him.

“They’re suppressing something. Energy, life force... maybe both.”

Kieran’s pulse quickened at her words.

It made sense.

The restraints weren’t just holding him physically; they were keeping the Crest in check, sapping its power.

His anger flared anew.

The girl turned her head slightly, her golden eyes narrowing as if she sensed the shift in his demeanor.

“Careful,” she said, her voice dropping to a warning tone. “The more you fight, the more they’ll drain.”

“Let them.” Kieran’s eyes hardened as he focused intently on the shackles.

Carefully, he began channeling tendrils of energy from the Celestial Crest, letting them seep into the restraints.

A faint crackling sound echoed as the shackles reacted, sparking lightly in response.

The girl’s brow arched, her composed expression faltering for a moment as surprise flickered in her eyes.

It was the first time she had seen the shackles respond at all.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice sharper now.

Kieran met her gaze, his green eyes blazing with an unyielding fire.

“They can drain all they want,” he said, his voice low and edged with defiance. “They won’t stop me.”

The girl stared at him, her expression unreadable, but something shifted in her golden eyes—a flicker of respect, perhaps, or intrigue.

“You’re either very brave,” she said, “or very foolish.”

“Both,” Kieran replied without hesitation, his lips curving into a humorless smile.

The Crest flared faintly in response, the golden light licking at the edges of his palm, a promise of power that would not be caged for long.

The girl tilted her head, her dark hair brushing against her shoulders.

Her gaze softened, though her tone remained guarded.

“If you want to survive,” she said, “you’ll need to know the difference.”

Kieran leaned forward slightly, his voice steady, his wrath simmering just beneath the surface.

Kieran met her piercing golden gaze, his voice low but steady.

“Well, I’d hate to disappoint,” he said, a faint smirk flickering across his face.

Her expression shifted, surprise giving way to something unreadable, though her lips curved into the barest hint of a smile.

“I doubt you will,” she said softly, her voice carrying a weight that matched the intensity of her stare.

Kieran leaned back against the wall, the faint glow of the Crest pulsing beneath his skin.

“For now,” he said, his tone calm but with an edge of determination, “let’s focus on getting out of here.”

The girl’s smile grew a fraction wider, her chains rattling faintly as she adjusted her position.

“Agreed,” she replied, her voice steady. “But if we’re working together, you’d better keep up.”

“Keep up?” he said with a hint of mockery in his voice.

“Since you got yourself caught, maybe you should focus on not slowing me down.”

Her golden eyes narrowed, a flicker of amusement flashing through them.

“Bold words for someone shackled to the same wall,” she shot back smoothly.

“But if you’re done puffing up your ego, I might have a plan.”

Kieran tilted his head, intrigued despite himself.

She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper, her tone as sharp as a blade.

“The shackles suppress energy flow, but they’re attuned to our individual strengths. If we can sync our efforts—yours from the Crest and mine—we might overload the field holding us.”

Her gaze flicked to the faint cracks in the dungeon walls, her sharp mind clearly working through the details.

“It’ll take timing, focus, and... well, trust,” she added, the last word laced with reluctance.

Kieran’s smirk returned, this time colder, more calculating.

“Trust is a stretch,” he said. “But cooperation to break free? That’s something I can work with.”

Her lips curved into a faint smile.

“Then stop talking and start thinking. If we fail, it’s both our necks on the line.”

Kieran’s hand flexed, the Crest’s faint hum growing sharper in his palm.

“Let’s make it count.”