The war room, usually a hive of activity with maps spread across the table and battle plans taking shape, was now an arena of tense silence. Erin stood at the head of the table, her silhouette stark against the sunlight streaming through the high windows. Her voice, when she finally spoke, echoed in the heavy quiet.

"We need to talk," she began, her words laden with a weight that sent a shiver down my spine. "About what happened on Caleb’s mission."

A collective breath whooshed out of the room, a mixture of relief and unease etched on the faces around the table. Marcus clenched his jaw, the worry lines on his face deepening. Finn leaned forward, his gaze locked on Erin. Only Kass, with her quiet empathy, seemed outwardly calm.

"After I left," Erin continued, her voice carefully measured, "I was scouting the perimeter of the Black Keep, searching for weaknesses in their defenses. That's when I saw him – Caleb. He was… engaged in a fight," Erin explained, her voice strained. "With several of the King's guards. He seemed… different somehow, erratic, almost desperate."

"So his mission near the northern border was a lie? Why would he lie to us?" Finn asked, slamming his fists on the table, his face pale.

Anger flickered in Marcus's eyes, but his voice was low and controlled. "Why didn't you help him?"

Erin held his gaze unflinchingly. "Because the guards weren't the real threat, Marcus," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "There was something else there, something far more sinister."

"What do you mean?" Kass asked softly, her voice barely a whisper.

Erin took a deep breath, her gaze flickering around the room before settling on me. With a silent nod, she continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"There's something you all need to know," she said. "Something about the King... something that could change everything."

My heart hammered against my ribs as Erin launched into her story. She spoke of the mission, of Caleb telling her he stumbled upon a hidden entrance to the dungeons beneath the castle, a truth that sent a jolt of terror through me. The King's dungeons, rumored for years, were a horrifying reality, a hidden chamber of suffering lurking beneath our very feet.

But the true weight of her revelation came with the King's dark secret. He wasn't just a tyrant, he was an immortal one, his power fueled by the very real soul-binding ritual that stole the life force of a hundred prisoners. Disbelief battled with a cold dread in the pit of my stomach. How could we fight an enemy who couldn't be killed?

Erin's revelation hung heavy in the air, a suffocating weight pressing down on the room. The King's immortality, the hidden dungeons beneath the castle – these truths were enough to shatter our hope. But even amidst the despair, a new question bloomed, sharp and unexpected.

"Someone else was there," Erin said, her voice grim, breaking the oppressive silence. "Besides the guards and Caleb."

My head snapped up, curiosity battling with the lingering dread. "Someone else?" I echoed, voicing the question that hung unspoken in the air.

"The guards," Erin explained, her voice strained, "they were talking about an assassin. Whispering about someone who tried to take out the King with an arrow… an arrow dipped in wolfsbane."

My breath hitched in my throat. Wolfsbane? The very word sent a jolt of surprise through me, sharp and unexpected. Wolfsbane was the very poison that had rendered Caleb unconscious on this very mission. The realization struck me with the force of a physical blow.

"Wolfsbane," I muttered, the word a foreign taste on my tongue. "But that's… that can't be a coincidence, can it?"

Erin shook her head, her raven hair casting flickering shadows across her face. "It certainly seems suspicious," she admitted. "But a coincidence? Perhaps. The King's guards have access to all sorts of concoctions and poisons. Wolfsbane might simply be their weapon of choice for silencing dissenters."

A sliver of hope, fragile yet persistent, bloomed in my chest. Perhaps Erin was right. Perhaps the connection between Caleb and the assassin was just that – a coincidence. A desperate use of a potent poison on two separate occasions.

"An assassin?" Marcus boomed, his voice laced with disbelief. "Who in their right mind would attempt something so… reckless?"

Erin shook her head, a frown creasing her brow. "I don't know," she admitted. "But whoever it was, they clearly have access to the castle, a knowledge of its hidden passages that rivals even ours."

The implication sent a shiver down my spine. Were there other rebels out there, a group we didn't know about, operating in the shadows? Or was this something else entirely, a lone assassin with their own agenda?

"We need to find out who it was," Finn said, his voice surprisingly steady despite the weight of new information. "They could be an ally, or they could be another enemy working for the King."

A tense silence descended upon the room as we contemplated the possibilities. The rebellion, already fractured by secrets, now had to contend with the existence of an unknown element within the castle walls. Were they friend or foe? And how would their actions, their desperate attempt at assassination, affect the rebellion's carefully laid plans?

Worry gnawed at me like a persistent rat. The revelation of the King's immortality hung heavy, a suffocating weight that threatened to crush any flicker of hope. But beneath the dread, a new urgency pulsed – I had to get to Caleb.

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The connection between the wolfsbane and the King's guards was too… convenient. A coincidence? Perhaps. But the nagging suspicion wouldn't leave me. Caleb, somehow stumbling upon the dungeons, the King's guards desperate to keep the secret – the pieces fit a little too perfectly. What had he seen down there? Had he witnessed the twisted ritual, the source of the King's immortality?

Isaac's gentle demeanor usually soothed my frayed nerves, but today, even the infirmary felt stifling. The scent of healing herbs mingled with the metallic tang of blood, a constant reminder of the rebellion's struggle. Pushing open the heavy door, I scanned the room. There, in a far corner cot, lay Caleb, his face pale against the rough linen sheets.

A pang of guilt stabbed at me. He’d gone on a scouting mission, and he'd returned broken, both physically and, I feared, emotionally. He deserved a proper rest, not another interrogation. But the fate of the rebellion hung in the balance.

Taking a deep breath, I approached his cot. His brow was furrowed in concentration, even in sleep. Was he reliving the horrors he'd witnessed? The thought sent a fresh wave of worry crashing over me.

"Caleb?" I whispered, my voice barely above a murmur.

His eyelids fluttered open, revealing eyes clouded with confusion. It took him a moment to focus, recognition slowly dawning in their depths.

"Kira?" he rasped, his voice weak. "What… what happened?"

"We need to talk," I said gently, pulling up a chair beside his cot. "There's… there's a lot to tell you."

He winced as he tried to sit up, his movements stiff and awkward. Isaac, ever vigilant, materialized at his side in an instant, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Easy there," he rumbled. "Take it slow."

I recounted Erin's tale of the hidden dungeons, the King's twisted immortality, the soul-binding ritual that fueled his power. With each detail, Caleb's grip on the sheets tightened, his knuckles white.

"Tell me, Caleb, what happened down there? Did you see anything? Did you learn anything about the King's ritual?"

There was a long, tense silence as Caleb closed his eyes, his brow furrowed in thought. Was he remembering? Had he seen something, something that could be the key to breaking the King's hold on immortality? The answer, I knew, could change everything.

"Over a hundred cells," Caleb rasped, his voice weak but his eyes filled with a newfound horror. "They were… emaciated, barely clinging to life. But there was food, gruel… enough to keep them breathing, at least."

His words painted a picture of a twisted sustenance, the King keeping his prisoners alive only to fuel his own dark magic. A cold fury bubbled within me. This wasn't just about power anymore; it was about a depravity that chilled me to the bone.

"Did you see anything else?" I pressed, hope flickering despite the grim details. "Guards? Rituals? Anything that could explain the wolfsbane?"

Caleb shook his head slowly, wincing as the movement sent a jolt of pain through him. "No," he admitted. "I didn't see any rituals… It was dark, silent… but there was an energy, a feeling of wrongness that crawled under my skin."

The silence stretched, thick with a tension that went beyond the weight of the King's revelation.

Taking a deep breath, I decided to be direct. "Caleb," I said gently, "The assassin," I pressed, my gaze unwavering. "The one they say tried to use wolfsbane on the King. Did you see anything? Anyone?"

He flinched at the question, a muscle in his jaw clenching for a brief moment. Then, he shook his head slowly, his voice barely a whisper. "No," he mumbled. "I… I didn't see anyone. The dungeons were dark, silent. Just the prisoners and the guards making their rounds."

Disappointment washed over me, a cold wave threatening to extinguish the embers of hope that had flickered to life.

"The wolfsbane. How did you… how did you get affected by it?"

He flinched at the question, a flicker of something akin to fear crossing his face. "I… I don't know exactly," he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. "I must have… stumbled upon a trap, some kind of poisonous gas they use down there to keep the prisoners subdued."

A trap? Poisonous gas? Isaac had practically ripped the arrowhead out of Caleb's shoulder, and it was slick with wolfsbane. Caleb was either the world's worst liar or his memory was foggier than a swamp at midnight.

"A gas?" I pressed, skepticism dripping from my voice like venom. "Isaac pulled an arrow out of you, dripping with wolfsbane. You don't remember that?"

He met my gaze for a fleeting moment, his eyes filled with a turmoil I couldn't decipher. Then, he looked away, his voice dropping to a barely audible murmur. "Look, Kira," he mumbled, "it doesn't matter. I got out, that's all that counts. We have bigger things to worry about now, the King's immortality and all that."

My unease deepened. Caleb was evasive, hesitant. There was something he wasn't telling me, something about the wolfsbane that he desperately wanted to keep hidden. But why?

Frustration gnawed at me, but I knew pushing him wouldn't help. He was clearly shaken, both physically and emotionally, from his ordeal. The truth, whatever it was, would have to wait.

"Alright," I conceded, forcing a note of understanding into my voice. "Get some rest. We'll figure everything else out together."

Caleb's explanation for the wolfsbane reeked of a poorly constructed lie. A gas? In the King's dungeons, filled with prisoners they intended to keep alive to fuel their dark magic? The answer was as flimsy as a cobweb.

The image of the arrowhead, embedded in Caleb's shoulder and reeking of that unmistakable poison, flashed in my mind. Wolfsbane, a weapon used for hunting beasts, not for subduing prisoners. Caleb was hiding something, and the knot of unease in my gut tightened with each passing second.

Leaving Isaac to his ministrations, I stepped out of the infirmary, the weight of the deception pressing down on me. Caleb wasn't being truthful, and that knowledge gnawed at the fragile trust we'd built. But for now, the rebellion had a more pressing concern – the King's immortality.

Reaching the women's dormitory, I found Kass engrossed in a book by the flickering candlelight. A pang of guilt stabbed at me. We always shared everything, every scrap of information gleaned from missions, every whispered rumor about the King's cruelty. But this secret, this doubt about Caleb, felt… different.

"Any luck getting something out of Caleb?" Kass asked, her voice laced with concern as she looked up from the book.

I hesitated, the lie forming on my lips a bitter taste. "Not much," I finally said, forcing a nonchalant shrug. "He was pretty out of it. Just confirmed the dungeons and the King's… twisted state of affairs."

Kass frowned, her brow furrowing in thought. "That's it? No mention of the assassin, the wolfsbane?"

My gaze flickered away from hers, a knot tightening in my chest. "No," I lied again, the word heavy on my tongue. "Nothing like that."

A part of me felt like a traitor. Kass was my confidante, my other half. But there was something about Caleb's demeanor, the haunted look in his eyes, that made me hold back. Perhaps it was a misplaced loyalty, or a fear of fracturing the already strained trust within the rebellion.

Whatever the reason, the lie sat heavy on my conscience. We were a team, bound together by a shared purpose, and secrets, however small, had a way of festering. But for now, I held my tongue, vowing to myself to find a way to get the truth out of Caleb.