Roven's eyes fluttered open, stinging from the dust that clung to his face. As he struggled to regain his bearings. He silently swore as he realised, he was in a dimly lit cell, his neck confined by a heavy iron collar. Desperation filled his chest as he frantically searched for his living metal block that he always carried with him, only to find it gone.

He swore again.

Examining his surroundings, his vision gradually adjusted, revealing the sturdy iron bars that surrounded him. They were as thick as his forearms, leaving no room for him to squeeze through. Peering at the other cells, he scanned the darkness for any sign of his fellow villagers, but they remained beyond his sight. A rumbled of annoyance escaped his clenched jaw.

"Magic men again," he muttered bitterly, his deep-seated distrust for the Dread Ink resurfacing. For as long as he knew, the books and the cursed ink within them had only brought pain and suffering.

Gradually, Roven's heightened senses detected movement and faint sounds emanating from the neighbouring cells. He could hear the shuffle of chains and the clinking of metal in the oppressive darkness. He sniffed the air. It carried a thick odour of blood and dirt. It was suffocating.

As his eyes adjusted further, he noticed two large square cages fixed side by side on the other side of the dungeon. Inside each cage sat a prisoner, their slumped figures matched like mirror images, yet they instilled an image in Roven’s mind of night and day.

The woman, dressed in black traveller’s clothes with raven hair cascading over her face, remained bowed, her features hidden. On the other hand, the shirtless man exuded an ancient aura, his granite-like grey hair cascading down to his sternum. Though his appearance looked drained, his sinewy muscles hinted at a monstrous hidden strength. Like the woman, he too sat with his head bowed, as if they were sleeping, yet the faint movements of their bodies revealed their vigilance. Each bore the same iron collar that Roven now wore.

Turning his attention to his own adjacent cell, Roven cautiously approached its obscured contents. A piled-up mixture of furs, scrap metal, and discarded tools littered the floor, as if the cage had become an impromptu storage space for the jailers, with little regard for its occupant.

Suddenly, the jingling of keys echoed through the dungeon, causing the raven-haired woman to flinch. A guard swaggered in and headed straight for her cage, unlocking its door.

Roven's anger flickered at the sight, fearing for the woman's fate at the hands of the guards. However, the man she had leaned against remained motionless, his unwavering gaze fixed on the floor. With callous indifference, the guards shackled the woman and led her away, her chains clinking with each step as they vanished down the long passageway.

Roven's mind raced, contemplating his escape, but as soon as the guards departed, the grey-haired man rose resolutely. Purposefully, he strode to the opposite wall and opened a small latch, bathing the cell in a flood of sunlight. Peering through the gaps in his own bars, Roven beheld a wide sandy floor that stretched before them—a vast coliseum.

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A low rumble reverberated from the floor as voices echoed, brimming with anticipation for bloodshed. The crowd's roar reached a crescendo, drowning out all other sounds, as a group of guards ushered in a hulking, shaggy beast held captive by formidable chains.

The creature, with two rat-like tails and a body resembling that of a rabid dog, but the size of a large bull, emitted a putrid breath that seemed to permeate even the confines of the dungeon. Snarling and snapping at its captors, it broke free with a thunderous crash, causing the guards to flee behind a protective barrier.

Roven's eyes widened with a mixture of terror and fascination as he watched the beast's frenzied display. The grey-haired man, unyielding, fixed his gaze on the coliseum floor, his thoughts veiled in silence.

The crowd erupted in cheers as the slender woman stepped onto the sandy ground. Clad in her travelling clothes and no armour, her chains had been removed, but the iron collar remained clasped around her neck. She held a cobalt blade, graciously striding toward the beast, her eyes unwavering.

A gasp caught in Roven's throat as he beheld the woman's face. Even at a distance, her captivating beauty stirred something within him, but there was a hint of sadness etched across her features. Her golden eyes shimmered in the sunlight as she purposefully approached the snarling creature.

The beast's instincts waged a fierce internal battle, torn between tearing the woman to shreds and sensing an impending danger. With a flick of its salivating jowls, it made its decision and lunged.

The grey-haired man huffed in disappointment at its choice.

Time seemed to stand still as Roven, transfixed, witnessed the woman's graceful evasion. She moved with such extraordinary agility that she seemed to vanish from sight, narrowly escaping the beast's snapping jaws. The creature, frustrated by its missed target, crashed to the ground in a fit of rage. The woman, her movements effortless, sidestepped with a hint of pity in her gaze.

The crowd erupted in cheers, celebrating the woman's survival. But she let out a visible sigh, her expression revealing a profound sadness as she regarded the defeated beast. Undeterred, the monster rose once more, preparing for a final charge.

Taking a deep breath, the woman adjusted her grip on the blade and crouched into an odd position. Roven could hear the thundering of the beast's paws as it raced toward her, thirsting for blood. Yet, in a stunning display of flexibility, the woman lowered her body even closer to the ground, swiftly manoeuvring herself between the massive paws of the charging creature, narrowly evading its gnashing teeth.

In a motion too swift for Roven to comprehend, the woman's wrist twisted, propelling the blade forward with pinpoint accuracy, striking a perfectly positioned gap between the beast's ribs. Just as swiftly as she had struck, she withdrew the blade, leaving no trace of blood upon the cobalt metal.

With a resounding thud, the beast collapsed, its lifeless form skidding to a halt. The crowd fell into an awestruck silence, its collective breath held in reverence for the still creature. Roven finally understood—it was not a fight; it was a mercy killing.

Curiosity ignited within him as he pondered how the guards could have contained such a formidable woman. His hand instinctively reached for the collar encircling his neck, discovering engraved words etched in the metal's surface.

Roven spat on the ground, his voice tinged with disdain. "Bloody magic again.”