They took him deep in a dungeon below the city, in a cell not unlike the one he had been kept in Daryon. Dark, windowless, small enough for a cot and a sink.

They hadn’t bound him in chains this time, but it wasn’t much of a difference; as before, the bars were studded with anti-magic crystals, and once again Nox’s mind was empty save for his own.

Perhaps it was better that way. He was still reeling from what Erebos had told him about, and he didn’t think he could fully believe it. Not any time soon, at least. Arabella wielded Erebos once? It seemed a cruel revelation.

There wasn’t anything to do to pass the time in his cell, so Nox whittled away the hours mulling over the events of the past days. The king acted strangely, he knew, even if his reasoning was valid. Nox didn’t expect him to be so calm facing the man who had almost killed Estella.

The first meal was brought in the evening, and Nox devoured the hard bread and thin soup given to him with gusto. He didn’t complain; he was used to it, and he knew it would be a constant in his life once he reached Tarson.

Just thinking about that place sent shivers down his spine. Daryon may be an impenetrable prison for Faven’s greatest criminals, but Tarson was hell on earth. It wasn’t a prison; it was a tomb. A place to break Faven’s most hated enemies.

Enemy. The thought alone sent his heart throbbing in agony. He was an enemy now, wasn’t he? And if he met Estella again, she wouldn’t see him the way she did before. She would probably be disgusted to even lay eyes on him.

As he lay on the cot, Nox’s gaze drifted to the fork in his empty plate. Perhaps… Perhaps taking hius own life was for the best. Erebos would no longer be a threat to the kingdom, and he could finally atone for the crimes he had committed.

Slowly, he rose and knelt on the floor, taking the fork firmly between his fingers. Such a small thing that could end one’s life. It would be painful, he knew, and he would suffer long before everything ended at last in eternal darkness.

And he would finally be reunited with his family, with Ria. And they could all be happy once more.

Taking in a lungful of air, Nox raised the fork… and let it clattered to the bare floor.

No. What a foolish thought. He had died once; if he took it by his own hands, then what was the point of his struggles? What was the point of having lived through everything? And Estella. He still had a promise to keep. A futile promise, but a promise nonetheless.

And he would fulfill it, no matter how long it would take.

***

They came for him at what Nox presumed was dawn. The trampling boots roused him from sleep, and he sat up, knowing what was to come.

Somehow, he wasn’t afraid. They were just exiling him. It didn’t matter if he escaped along the way. Thus, he formed a plan. A risky plan that could just as well kill him.

Outside his cell, the guard appeared. Behind him trailed a line of six Wielders. Five were armed, tall and imposing, but the last one, lithe and a foot shorter, was barehanded.

Odd. Then again, Nox was bound in anti-magic chains. The escort leader was confident that he wouldn’t pose any harm.

How wrong he would be.

As always, he didn’t resist when they led him away, taking him outside the prison courtyard. The sky was still dark, overcast with signs of rain. In the center of the courtyard was a steel cage on wheels, barely large enough for him to stand on.

He climbed inside. It was a tight fit, but he managed. And all throughout, the escort leader watched him from a visored helmet.

“What?” Nox asked warily.

The man grunted and looked away, striding toward a mare. Four more Wielders joined the group before they were finally on the road.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

The streets were empty, the city still on the cusp of waking. On the horizon, the first rays began to lighten the sky, but it would still take the better part of the hour before the sun fully rose.

With a sigh, Nox drifted off into sleep. He couldn’t enact his plan yet, so he had to wait.

When he stirred from an uneasy slumber, they were well past the city walls, riding along the King’s Road. To the left was the distant mountains, where the Academy lay beyond. Nox let his gaze lingered in that direction. Someday, he would return.

The journey continued until noon, when they stopped to eat and rest. While the rest of the guards dismounted and crowded under the shade of a beech tree, Nox sat alone in his cage, wondering if any of the guards would give him food.

The answer came soon. To his mild surprise, the escort leader strode toward him, a bowl in hand. He opened the cage, thrusting the bowl in front of him.

Nox glanced at it, then at his wrists, bound shackles and chains. “I don’t suppose you could feed me?”

The leader stood in silence, staring at him. Then he sat on the floor, scooped a mouthful of porridge, and held it before Nox.

Nox blinked at it. He wasn’t really serious about what he said, intending to simply annoy the escort leader, but he wasn’t going to refuse if it meant spending less of his strength.

But the surprises didn’t end there. The leader was gentle, almost careful, as he fed Nox, as if he was feeding a delicate child. There wasn’t even a trace of fear, which was unexpected for someone who was supposed to be escorting a criminal who could turn into a deadly monster.

Nox didn’t let his surprise show, however. He ate in silence, and when he finished, he drank the cool water that was offered to him, taking in as much as he could. But the guard didn’t protest, even when the canteen was almost empty.

“Thank you,” Nox said quietly. A trickle of water flowed the corner of his mouth.

He was about to raise his bound hands to wipe it away when the man leaned forward, pulled out a cloth and, as gentle as he could, at Nox’s mouth.

Nox stiffened, eyebrows arching high in bewilderment. The cage was walled on either side, with tiny slits for windows, so it was mostly dark and the other guards couldn’t see them. But the little shaft of light piercing the gloom allowed Nox to see the guard’s eyes.

Silver eyes.

They locked gazes. Slowly, the left eye drooped before re-opening just as fast.

Then the escort leader was up, locking the cage once more before retreating to his companions, leaving Nox to stare blankly at where he had just been standing on.

***

For the next few hours, Nox’s mind was filled with possibilities, and those silver eyes.

He replayed the events since his imprisonment over and over again in his head, especially the audience with the king, and the more he thought about everything, the more it didn’t make sense.

The king’s expression was barely angry. By rights Nox should have already been dead, even if it would mean fighting Erebos. There were Wielders in the kingdom who could easily destroy him. And yet here he was in a cage, being escorted to a distant prison where no had gotten out alive. But if exile was his punishment, Daryon would have been the more safer option, as it was surrounded by mountains and no one would get inside, or escape, either.

Where were they really taking him? And the escort leader, he hadn’t spoken ever since Nox was taken out of his cell. That in itself was already suspicious; a commander who couldn’t give commands would be a liability, not just for him but for his men.

And the eyes. Nox knew those eyes. But that was impossible. Why would Estella be here? Or could it be that she was planning to save him?

The base of his skull began to throb. There was only one way to know. Thankfully, the sun was already brushing the horizon. It wouldn’t be long until they stop for the night, and he was sure the leader would check on him again.

Shifting into a more comfortable, he drifted off into sleep.

***

A jolt awakened him, followed swiftly by a shout.

Nox was instantly alert. He looked outside. The riders guarding the rear had dismounted, forming a circle in front of the door. Ahead of them, a tree lay across the road, its branches ablaze.

The ground shuddered, and Nox knew that another tree had fallen, no doubt in front of the convoy. More shouts echoed.

An ambush. Whoever was attacking, they knew he was here.

The clang of metal soon echoed, the guards charging at cloaked assailants. Nox watched as one of them weaved past two Fire Wielders, an Earth hammer in hand. The man—for it was a man, tall and broad-shouldered—swung hard, sending the two guards retreating. He swung again, and they backed away.

Still hefting his Animarta, the man approached the cage. Three guards, including the two who retreated, lunged at him, but another cloaked figure with a Wind Whip sent the three flying with a blast of air.

Nox blinked, then narrowed his eyes. He recognized that spell.

He pressed himself against the cage’s wall as the Earth Wielder strode to the door. With one hand, he grasped the bars and wrenched it free off the hinges, hurling it at one of the guards, sending him scampering in fright.

Nox stared as the man beckoned to him silently, pointing to the forest. The meaning was clear.

“I can’t run in these,” he said, glancing at the shackles binding his legs. Solid steel and magic-proof.

With a grunt, the Earth Wielder summoned a sword made of pure steel and swung it at the chains, severing them. Two more swings later, Nox’s legs were free.

He sat there for a moment, his heart trembling. It had happened so fast, and he could still hear fighting around him. But he was free. One step and he was free.

He looked at his savior, who nodded and gestured to the Wind Wielder standing patiently behind him.

“Let’s go, Master,” Ireela said, her voice clear beneath her hood.

Without hesitation, Nox stepped toward his freedom.