Talia sat slumped against the rough stone wall, her body aching in places she couldn’t count. The iron cuffs around her wrists chafed with every small movement, and her ankles were similarly bound, rendering her legs nearly useless. The cell smelled of dampness and mold, the air thick with the scent of decay. A faint draft blew through the narrow slit of a window high above, too far out of reach, letting in just enough moonlight to cast long, skeletal shadows across the floor.

She stared at the flickering torchlight from the hallway outside, watching it stretch and shrink with each guttering flame. Her breathing was slow and shallow, a careful effort to keep the pain in her ribs from flaring up again. Every breath reminded her of the fight—the brutal clash that had left her here. The spark general's final moments flashed behind her eyes, but she forced them away. It didn’t matter now. She had done the job, made the kill. But her reward? A cell. Betrayed, or so it seemed, by the very people who had given her the contract.

Her body screamed for rest, but her mind wouldn’t still. Why? Why would they turn on her now? She'd been so close. The memory of her final meeting with the cult lingered at the edges of her thoughts, taunting her with half-remembered faces, cloaked figures who’d promised answers.

A deep ache settled into her bones as she shifted slightly, trying to ease the strain on her shoulders. The chains rattled softly, and for a moment, the sound was the only thing that broke the suffocating silence of the cell. Her left hand brushed against her side, fingers finding the bruise beneath her torn shirt. The fight had been too close. She could still feel the general’s blows blasting through her defenses, narrowly nearly crushing her vital organs. She had escaped, far from unscathed.

Talia grimaced, resting her head against the cool stone. This wasn't how it was supposed to end. She had done everything they asked, played her part perfectly. But instead of answers, instead of the truth she so desperately sought, after nights of waiting and those accursed nightmares, she had been thrown into this pit like a discarded pawn.

The sound of boots echoed in the corridor outside, slow and deliberate. Each step reverberated through the stone, cutting through the silence like a knife. Talia’s eyes flickered toward the door, her heart pounding just a little faster. She could feel the tension in her muscles, the weight of dread settling in. Whoever was coming, they weren’t here to set her free.

The footsteps stopped, and a shadow stretched across the floor just outside her cell. The door creaked open, groaning on its hinges as the figure stepped inside, shrouded in the dim light. Talia blinked, squinting through the darkness, trying to make out the face beneath the hood.

"I must admit," the voice said, soft and cold, "you were harder to catch than I thought."

Talia’s body stiffened. The voice was familiar. Too familiar. She didn’t need to see his face to know who it was. Arkan, the cult leader. The one who had promised her everything she needed. The one who had sent her after the spark general.

Talia shifted, trying to rise, but her body refused to cooperate. She barely managed to sit upright, her breathing ragged. She forced herself to meet his gaze, or at least where his gaze would be beneath the shadowed hood.

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"You sent me here," she rasped, the words like sandpaper in her throat. "I did what you asked."

Arkan stepped closer, his boots scraping against the stone floor. His face remained hidden, but the air around him seemed to grow colder, heavier. He looked down at her, his posture too relaxed, too casual for the weight of what hung between them.

"You really think it was that simple?" he asked, amusement lacing his words. "Did you think killing a spark general was all it would take?"

Talia’s jaw clenched. Her mind was swimming, a dizzying mix of exhaustion, pain, and confusion. She had barely made it out of that fight alive, and this was her reward? Questions surged in her head, but she kept them back, eyes narrowing.

"Why am I here?" she demanded, though her voice was weaker than she wanted. She felt every bruise, every cut with each breath. "You owe me answers."

Arkan chuckled softly, the sound more chilling than comforting. He crouched down, his dark cloak pooling around him like a shadow. "I owe you nothing, Talia. You’ve always been so desperate to know your past... but some things are better left forgotten."

Her heart hammered painfully against her chest. He knows. He knows something about the gaps in her memory—the ones that haunted her, filled with fragmented images of a life she couldn’t piece together. The kingdom, her family... the fall. The cult had dangled that information before her, just out of reach, like a cruel joke.

"You promised—" she began, but her voice faltered as a sudden dizziness washed over her.

Arkan tilted his head, almost in mock pity. "Promises are like chains, Talia. Some are meant to be broken." He stood, towering over her now. "And you… You were never supposed to remember."

Her hands clenched into fists, though they shook with the effort. The memories she had so desperately fought for, the flashes of her kingdom burning, her family’s faces lost in the fire—they were close, always close. But now, they slipped further from her grasp, smothered by Arkan’s words.

"You think you can bury the truth?" she forced out, her voice raw. "I’ll remember. I’ll find out who I was."

Arkan’s smile was small, cruel. "Who you were doesn’t matter anymore. You’re nothing now, just like your kingdom. And I’ll make sure you stay that way."

Before she could respond, the door opened again, and another figure entered the room. This one moved with quiet grace, almost unnoticed, until they were standing beside Arkan. A woman, dressed in the same dark robes, though her face was partially visible—sharp, angular features, and eyes that gleamed in the low light.

Talia’s breath hitched. Something about her... she couldn’t place it, but the woman’s presence was suffocating. Familiar, but distant, like a face from a half-forgotten dream.

"This one has potential," the woman said, her voice soft but commanding. "Don’t be too hasty, Arkan. We may still need her."

Arkan’s smile faltered, and he glanced at the woman with an unreadable expression. "She’s dangerous. More dangerous than you realize."

The woman’s gaze flicked to Talia, appraising her with an unsettling calm. "I know exactly what she is." Her eyes lingered for a moment longer, before turning back to Arkan. "Keep her alive. For now."

Talia’s body sagged against the wall, exhaustion flooding through her as the weight of their words settled. She wasn’t going to die—not yet, at least. But whatever game they were playing, she was caught in the middle of it. And this time, there was no easy way out.

As the door slammed shut behind them, the sound echoed through the cell, leaving Talia alone once more. But her mind was already working, piecing together fragments of the conversation. They knew more than they were letting on. And somehow, she was the key to it all.

She just had to survive long enough to figure out why.