The clearing was eerily silent now, the remnants of their struggle scattered around them—the scorched ground, the shattered trees, and the lingering, fading tendrils of dark magic where the neromancer had once stood.

Lyla stepped forward cautiously, her gaze fixed on the spot where he had vanished. The spectral flames of her Witchfire had long since died out, leaving only the natural glow of the setting sun filtering through the trees.

"Is it over?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jack hesitated. He wanted to say yes, that they had won, that their enemy had been destroyed. And yet… something gnawed at him. "I don’t know," he admitted. "He didn’t die like normal. He just… disappeared."

Cael wiped a smear of dirt and blood from his cheek, shaking his head. "I've seen plenty of things die," he muttered. "That didn’t feel like death. At least, not the permanent kind." He glanced at Jack and Lyla, his expression grim. "What if he comes back?"

Jack frowned, gripping his spear tighter. "If he could return that easily, why would he have fought so hard to stay?" He turned back to Lyla. "Could that curse circle have erased him completely?"

Before she could respond a voice broke through the quiet.

"Faraun’s not dead."

Jack spun, his spear instinctively snapping into a defensive position as a figure emerged from the underbrush at the edge of the clearing. Lyla’s fingers twitched toward her staff, and Cael shifted his stance, ready to spring.

The man who stepped into the moonlight was thin and ragged, his dark hair wild and unkempt. His clothes were torn and filthy, and though he moved with a cautious wariness, his blue eyes burned with a sharp intelligence. Around his neck sat a heavy iron collar, covered in blood-red runes.

Jack narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"

The stranger held up his hands, a gesture of peace, though he made no move to come closer. "I’ve been watching. I was hoping you’d be the ones to take him down." His fingers brushed against the collar at his throat. "But this cursed thing tells me he’s not truly gone."

Jack kept his spear leveled at the stranger, his instincts still sharp from the battle. Beside him, Lyla and Cael remained tense, their expressions wary. The clearing was still thick with the lingering energy of their fight, the trees scarred from bursts of magic, the ground torn where bodies had clashed. And yet, now that the dust had settled, something about this man felt just as unsettling as the battle they had just survived.

Taking a slow step forward, Jack repeated his question. "Who are you?"

The stranger exhaled through his nose, lowering his hands slightly. "Tanner," he said at last. His voice was rough, like someone who had spoken too little for too long. "Tanner Voss."

That wasn't enough to make Jack lower his spear. "And why were you watching us?"

Tanner glanced at the spot where Faraun had disappeared, then back at them. "Because I wanted to see if you’d succeed. If you could do what no one else had." His fingers brushed against the iron collar at his neck again, his expression dark. "I had to know if you could free me without killing him." His fingers brushed the iron collar at his throat, his expression grim. "Because if you had truly killed Faraun, this thing would have activated fully… and I would be dead. It’s designed to inflict pain if I disobey or work against my master. If my master dies, it kills me too. They made it that way to prevent slaves from bringing about their master’s death even indirectly."

A wave of disgust settled in Jack’s gut. His grip on his spear tightened as he took in the collar, the way it pulsed faintly with magic, the unmistakable mark of control. Slavery. The thought made his stomach churn. He had seen cruelty before, had always hated tyrants who treated others as tools, but this—this was something worse.

"You were his slave," he said, his voice low, barely restrained. The words tasted foul in his mouth.

Tanner’s expression didn’t change. "Yes."

Jack nearly spat on the ground. It was revolting. The idea of a man being bound like an animal, forced to obey, to suffer for another’s will—it made his blood boil.

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From beside him, Cael, who had been quiet up until now, exhaled sharply. "Why did he bring you though? You didn’t help him in battle, so why bring you along in the first place?”

Tanner hesitated, glancing toward the trees as if expecting something to emerge from the darkness. Finally, with a sigh, he spoke. "I was used for my Class," he admitted.

Jack’s eyes narrowed. "What Class?"

Lips pressing into a thin line, Tanner answered. "Seer."

Cael, who had been listening in silence, let out a quiet curse. "That explains a lot."

Arms folding, Lyla’s eyes gleamed with understanding. "That’s how they found the Dungeon, isn’t it?"

A nod. "They made me find it. The Aguilars, Faruan's family, I don’t know how long they had been searching, but they knew one was hidden deep in this forest. They just didn’t know where. That’s where I came in." Tanner exhaled sharply. "I had no choice. If I didn’t help them, they would have killed me. Or worse."

Jack watched him carefully. "And when they found it?"

Tanner’s jaw tightened. He looked regretful. “They realized someone else was already here. They couldn’t risk you making a claim and taking the Dungeon for yourself. They’re much too valuable. That’s why they set up the ambush. I tried to help in small ways, subtle ways, but there was only so much I could do without activating the collar’s punishment. I did what I could to make events happen in one of the futures I saw, the only future that didn’t lead to my death or continued slavery. It wasn’t easy, but I managed it.” He touched the metal band at his throat again, a distant look in his eyes. Fresh burns ringed the man’s throat, something Jack only now noticed.

A slow, measured breath left him. Fury simmered beneath the surface, but it was tempered by something else—understanding. Tanner hadn’t chosen to help Faraun. He had been forced into it, shackled in both body and will. It didn’t erase the damage done, but Jack had seen enough cruelty in the world to recognize someone who had suffered under it.

Cael rubbed a hand down his face.

“So let me get this straight. You knew about the ambush, you knew about Faraun’s plan, and you just went along with it?”

A sharp look from Tanner. “I did what I had to do to survive.” His voice was clipped, defensive. “If I had refused, they would have made an example out of me. And even if I had found a way to die before they could use me, they would have just found another Seer. That’s how House Aguilar works. How all the elven noble Houses work. Their reach is long, their wealth is endless, and their cruelty is boundless.” He looked away, jaw tightening. “I was just another tool to them.”

Jack didn’t doubt it. Noble houses that treated people as disposable were nothing revolutionary, but from what he had seen, House Aguilar was particularly ruthless. He now remembered the other necromance he had encountered. Darius. He had been just as bad, if not worse than Faraun.

Lyla studied Tanner with narrowed eyes. “And now that Faraun is gone—at least for now—you’re trying to find a way to remove the collar before he comes back.”

Tanner nodded. “That was the whole point. I knew I couldn’t kill him myself, not without sealing my own fate. But if I could make sure he was banished without dying, I’d have time to break the bond. If I can do that… then for the first time in my life, I’ll be free.”

Jack watched him closely, still unsure whether he could fully trust him. There was something calculated about Tanner, something that spoke of a man used to surviving by whatever means necessary. But that didn’t make him a villain. If anything, it made him a survivor.

Still, his gut twisted with lingering disgust—not at Tanner, but at the people who had done this to him. The Aguilars. Faraun. The unseen noble hands that thought themselves gods, deciding who lived and who suffered. He hated them. Hated that they had the power to warp lives like this.

And yet, despite everything, Tanner was still standing. Still fighting, in his own way.

Spear lowering slightly, Jack spoke again. “And what happens if you don’t break the collar in time?”

Tanner’s expression was grim. “Then I keep running. And if that doesn’t work… I make sure I die on my own terms before the accursed elves can reclaim me.” His fingers curled around the collar, knuckles white. “I refuse to go back to being a slave.”

Lyla exchanged a glance with Jack, her face unreadable.

A sudden flinch from Tanner as Cael stepped forward, movements swift and without warning. No time to react before Cael’s dagger flashed in the dim light, its darkened blade stabbing directly into the iron collar around Tanner’s throat.

A sharp hiss filled the air, the metal immediately blackening and bubbling as if eaten away by acid. Tanner’s eyes widened in shock, hands jerking up as if to stop the rogue, but it was too late. The collar corroded in an instant, crumbling apart in jagged fragments that fell to the ground, leaving a faint wisp of smoke curling from where the metal had once pressed against his skin.

For a heartbeat, there was silence.

Then Tanner let out a strangled breath, hands trembling as they rose to touch his bare neck. His skin was raw where the collar had been, but the oppressive weight of it—the magic that had shackled his very life to his oppressor—was gone.

Lyla was the first to react. “Cael, you reckless idiot!” she snapped, eyes blazing as she grabbed his arm and yanked him back. “What if it had triggered a failsafe? What if it had killed him on the spot? You didn’t even think, did you?”

A shrug from Cael as he slipped his dagger back into its sheath with an almost lazy motion. “It worked, didn’t it?” he said, voice utterly unconcerned.

Jack exhaled sharply, unease knotting in his stomach.

Tanner shook his head, still looking dazed but whole. Meeting Jack’s gaze, he spoke, voice thick with disbelief. “Well,” he muttered, “I guess I’m free.”