Ella’s chest tensed from the continuous pace of the horse and her back uncomfortably thudding against Felix’s rigid. The ride felt punishing rather than exhilarating, with every jolt pressing her harder into his chest.

Though it was her first time riding a horse, it hardly matched her idea of a thrill. Her limbs were heavy, her legs aching. Yet the most maddening thing was the itch on her hand. She fought the urge to scratch, only to lose the battle.

"I shouldn’t have touched that spider."

A sigh slipping out before she realized she’d spoken aloud which it caused Felix’s gaze drifted down. "Did you perhaps utter something of significance?"

She bit her lip while scratching the irritated skin until it began to sting.

“I was only wondering,” she replied. “how much longer we’re to endure this… ordeal.”

Across from her, Igner’s expression was a silent rebuke, his brow arched as if asking, “Have you lost your senses?” He’d taken time to treat her hand, and she was undoing his work. But she couldn’t help it—the more she scratched, the worse it got.

Igner and the others had returned after a futile chase for the archer. She could only imagine the frustration of this stoic knight, seated behind her now, who, it turned out, was a Captain also. That explained his confidence in dealing with the actual Captain earlier, as if they were long-standing adversaries. She wondered if perhaps Felix belonged to another order, or maybe even a hidden faction.

“If you had not stirred a ruckus, we would be at the capital by now," Felix said, guiding the horse with effortless ease.

She frowned, holding back a huff. “But if you guys had let me walk, we might still be in that area. Given our current circumstances, riding might help us save some time duhhh."

Not that she looked forward to reaching the capital. The thought of facing the king, who had ordered her capture, made her nerves shaking now. And with that unexpected archer’s appearance earlier who happened to toss her baseball bat back to her—she was sure the Captain Nikolai's suspicions had only intensified. He’d probably be all too happy to call her a spy, murderer, arsonist, or a member of some clandestine band.

“Press on! Move, all of you!” Captain Nikolai commanded.

His order sent an energy through the knights, and the horses lurched forward with renewed speed. They were eager to be home. Ella tightened her grip on the saddle as they hurtled through the last stretch of trees. Each hoofbeat seemed to echo louder that pounding in time with her heartbeat. Then, in an instant, they burst from the forest into an open landscape that left her breathless.

Draxuropolis lay sprawled before them, the heart of the kingdom. From this vantage point, the sight was something out of a fairytale. It was nothing like the cramped outskirts or the narrow alleys where Ella had first stumbled upon this world. The castle stood high above the city, perched on a grand hill that stretched into the sky, its walls kissed by the first rays of dawn. From the topmost tower, a crimson flag unfurled and waved in the wind, bold against the lightening sky, as if proclaiming the kingdom’s grandeur.

Her gaze wandered over the city below, tucked neatly within its high walls that stretched protectively around it. The roads wound like rivers between clusters of stone buildings, their rooftops dotted with chimneys and steeped in history. She had to admit, it was beautiful—an impossible beauty, like something she’d only seen in the movies or on someone's digital artwork.

As they drew closer to the capital’s outer wall, the castle itself became less visible, hidden behind the thick stone ramparts. But its presence loomed, a silent guardian watching over its people from above. It was a strange feeling, really, to be so close to something that seemed untouchable from afar.

Ahead of her, a very tall wooden gate stood framed by the city’s walls, as grand as it was foreboding. Each heavy timber looked like it could withstand an army. And as they approached it, her eyes lingering on the red flag fluttering high above—emblem of a world.

The armored guards of the massive door stood watch there, with eyes sharp beneath their helms as the knights and their prisoner approached. One of the guards, broad-shouldered and tall, raised his arm in acknowledgment. He turned to his companion, nodding.

“Open the gate.”

With a creak of immense wood and iron, the great doors of Draxuropolis slowly swung open. The sound reverberated, a slow groaning that spoke of age and weight. Ella held her breath as the city unfolded before her.

"You can do this," she whispered under her breath.

Beyond the gate, the cobbled streets were lined with merchant stalls. Stone houses with ivy climbing their walls gave the place a storybook charm, yet the people walking those streets weren’t admiring the scenery. No, they were looking at her.

Whispers rose from the crowd as they noticed her bound hands and the grim expressions of the knights around her. She could feel their stares prickling her skin. The murmurs grew louder until all around her screamed.

"Witch!”

“Is she the one? The murderer!”

“The witch who burned the ~~”

"Spy!"

A small rock suddenly came hurtling from the crowd, striking her shoulder. She flinched in surprise, but there was no chance to react before another followed. Just as a third rock arced her way, Felix moved in, raising his arm to shield her from the hit.

Igner and other knights belong to Captain Nikolai's closed ranks around her, creating a barrier that forced the townspeople back.

Meanwhile, Ella, she looked around, feeling like a specimen on display. It was strange. She’d read about this kind of scene, seen characters being paraded through streets, shamed, or scorned in movies. Yet being here, with these people’s accusing eyes on her, felt nothing like she had imagined. Their words and how they treated her, made her eyes water.

It's okay, Ella...

But here, in this world, she might as well have been the Wicked Witch of the West, cursed and feared by people who didn’t know her. They didn’t see a girl from another world; they saw a creature capable of bringing ruin. Like a viral sensation on social media, except here, there was no screen to hide behind—just her, vulnerable and bare in front of all these faces.

The knights urged her forward, she forced herself to keep her sense awake, might a big rock hit her head and died here before she could prove her innocent to the king.

Soon, they neared the town square, and Ella’s eyes caught sight of something unsettling—a large, charred patch of ground surrounded by crumbling stone and wood. Blackened timbers jutted out like skeletal remains, and ash dusted the cobblestones.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

So this… this is what they think I did? she thought, glancing at the ruin that had so many whispering “witch.” But as she looked closer, she couldn’t help feeling how utterly absurd it all was.

I didn’t even pass through this area when I was running.

The day she’d fled from the knights, she’d taken narrow alleys and hidden corners—nowhere near the square, and certainly with no torch in hand. Who’d be carrying a torch in the blazing heat of the afternoon sun, anyway? Her brows knitted together as she scratched her hand, which still itched with that infuriating burn from her encounter with the spider. This whole accusation was ridiculous. But maybe that’s just how things worked here.

Could witches really be real in this world?

Perhaps here, those supernaturals thingy weren’t the stuff of stories—they were feared and hunted in real life.

And yet… why a witch? A spy she could almost understand; she’d been sneaking around, clearly out of place. But a witch? The label felt like a terrible, twisted exaggeration. She bit her lip as she glanced down at her wrists, bound and on display.

Who the hell decided I was a witch?

As they left the crowded Centro, the crowd’s murmurs faded gradually as they led her deeper into the city, though the wary looks and sidelong glances stayed until the noise of the townspeople no longer to hear, replaced by the clopping hooves of horses against the road. Ella could feel her heart thudding, each step of the horses bringing her closer to the presence of the palace—and to King Adheesh, a name that seemed to stir awe and reverence from everyone. And now, she was about to meet him.

The narrow roads slowly widened, giving way to a winding, grand avenue lined with stone statues of warriors and scholars from a time long past. She gazed up in reluctant awe, taking in the intricately chiseled details: the armor, the expressions, each figure frozen in an eternal vigil. Their silent presence seemed to demand respect, even from an outsider like her. It was strange and overwhelming.

The further they went, the more the landscape shifted. It felt like the edge of a fairytale—small, sunlit streams cut across the fields, weaving through clusters of tall pine trees. And just above the treetops, she could make out the spires of the castle.

It was a sight straight out of fantasy, the kind of place you’d see in digital artworks, maybe, or in a carefully curated Instagram post.

From this distance, she could see the detail in its architecture—glistening windows, polished stone, and turrets. The walls were tall, stretching protectively around the palace grounds, and the red flags seemed almost like a warning or a proclamation to anyone looking up.

The knights around her sat straighter, their eyes set ahead, focused on their duty. There was an unspoken reverence, as if the road itself demanded silence and attention. They were nearing the place of ultimate authority—the residence of the king, where decisions were made, where fate was decided.

So this is where they’ll decide mine.

The castle gates with ornate silver pattern loomed larger as they approached. It was a world built to awe, to impress upon anyone who approached it that this was a place of power.

Waiting in perfect formation just outside the gates were more knights. Unlike Felix's group, these knights bore a different insignia, something with an intricate crest of intertwining dragons and flames. They seemed to be belong to Captain Nikolai's unit. And they looked as if they'd stepped straight from the pages of a legend, each knight rigid, eyes trained on the approaching group with solemn purpose.

Felix and Captain Nikolai barely acknowledged them as they approached. There was no welcoming smile, no exchange of pleasantries. These new knights simply moved forward in a precise, unbroken line, their gazes were on her, as though they had been waiting just outside of the entrance.

Then, a tall, armored knight at the head of the line raised his hand. Without so much as a glance at Felix or Nikolai, he signaled to two knights, who stepped forward. Ella felt her pulse quicken as they drew nearer. She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could find the words, she felt their iron-clad hands gripping her arms which the suddenness of it made her flinch, her mouth opening in shock.

“And where, pray tell, do you intend to take her?” Felix demanded to the knights infront of them.

“Isn’t the king expecting us? His instruction was clear—this woman was to be brought before him directly," Captain Nikolai added, and glanced back at the palace gates as though expecting King Adheesh to appear any moment.

One of the palace knights inclined his head respectfully toward Nikolai. “Captain, the king has given new orders. This woman is to be taken to the dungeons until her trial.”

Ella’s jaw dropped.

“The dungeon?” She repeated, then swallowed.

This was not happening. The image of dark, damp cells filling her mind, the kind she’d only read about, like in those old torture scenes. But as a Gen-Z girl who enjoyed her coffee shops and Wi-Fi, this was not part of her expectations. She nearly laughed—except, there was nothing funny about it.

“Hold on a sec,” she started. “I know I didn’t ask for a five-star treatment here, but the dungeon? Are we serious?”

"The dungeon,” Felix said slowly, while still calm, had a subtle of crease of disapproval in his face. “A place unfit even for a true criminal, much less an accused woman. You risk the wrath of the king by placing her there before judgment is cast.”

The knight didn’t waver and met Felix's gaze. “His Majesty anticipated your reaction, My Lord. However, his instructions stand: no audience, no trial—not until the appointed time.”

"The dungeon was not constructed for any humane purpose," Felix replied as he looked at the knight steely. "It is no more than a tomb for the living."

But when the knight only stiffened, Felix held his tongue, then, Captain Nikolai stepped forward as if content to observe the exchange.

“Seems we’re only pawns in the king’s hand, then. I’ll hear what else this messenger of His Majesty has to say.”

The knight, with only a curt nod, gestured for his comrades to continue. And with that, they began to pull Ella along.

"H-Hey, that...t-think somewhere else, please," her feet slid on the dusty ground as she forced not to come along. "Not to the dungeon huhu. That place is not meant for me. I swear..."

Her gaze swept over the group of women who had been rescued alongside her—now, standing free. Among them, a flash of red hair caught her eye, drawing her to the face of one woman who’d shown her a hint of kindness last night. The woman looked at her now, somewhat worry or… disappointment? Or was it something else?

Does she believe I’m guilty too? A witch? A criminal?

It was as though the woman’s silent judgment confirmed what everyone else had assumed, as if they all thought her monstrous now.

The knights' grips tightened on her arms and dragged her away from the open courtyard. And the distance between her and those women grew.

They passed beneath the shadows of the castle walls, she looked back one last time. But the courtyard had vanished behind a thick stone archway.

Dungeon...It would be better to put me back on the cage! Damn...

This wasn’t just some grimy cell—she knew what a dungeon meant in a place like this. She’d read enough to know. In the stories, the dungeon was always the place they threw the unlucky souls they wanted forgotten, a place hidden deep underground, filled with thick iron bars, damp stone walls, and cold shadows.

The cells there meant no sunlight, no escape, nothing but the slow trickle of time that left a person losing their mind.

She had hoped—hoped desperately—that she wouldn’t find ghost or goblin, but here she was, being led into a place where light seemed to go to die.

Along the way, her eyes caught glimpses through barred cells. A rusted hand reaching out. Hollow eyes peering from the dark. Bones piled in one corner, scraps of cloth trailing off skeletal remains in another cell. The stench of decay and mildew was overpowering. And still, the knights dragged her on, indifferent to her attempts to slow them down.

Finally, they reached an empty cell, illuminated by the torchlight on the wall. She was thrown in the cell. Just as she stumbled to her feet, one knight gripped the iron bars with one hand, and slammed the door shut.

"Don't be a dick. Manners might be nice!" she shouted to the knights who about to turn away. Then, one of the two spoke back. He even came closer to the bars. "Hold your tongue, you insolent prisoner! I have no time for your impudence. You're but a lowly prisoner, a mere insect beneath my boot."

Ella spit on the knight's boots, which made him want to unsheathe his sword, but his companion held him back and stopped him from doing so.

“Being imprisoned doesn't make me less a person. And tell your king—whoever he is—that I’ll see him at the trial. I’ll prove my innocence," she said.

“Ah, the innocent, full of hope and naivety,” he said mockingly. “As if His Majesty would be swayed by the words of a mere wench. But fret not, I’m certain he’ll find great amusement in whatever feeble tale you weave.” He tipped his helmet with a mocking bow. “Enjoy the comforts of your new abode, m’lady. This the best you’ll see for a good, long while.”

With that, the knights turned, and walked away, leaving her alone in the silence of the dungeon. Ella’s fingers were on the bars as she knelt on the ground motionless, staring the leaving knights.

And the minutes passed by, she pulled herself from the bars and leaned her back against the wall. The entire experience left her speechless.