Bright light flooded Daron's vision as he opened his eyes.

The stark white walls of the hospital room stood in jarring contrast to the grim cell that lingered in his mind's eye. He blinked, disoriented, then carefully pushed himself up. A wave of dizziness washed over him.

His gaze darted around the pristine white room, finally settling on a figure lounging in the corner—a man, in his mid twenties perhaps, with long golden hair pulled back in a casual ponytail. Piercing violet eyes locked onto Daron.

The stranger smiled, an easy charm radiating from his handsome features. He wore a crisp suit, his tie adorned with a peculiar insignia that Daron couldn't quite place.

"Ah, you're awake at last," the man said, his melodic voice filling the room. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd wake up."

Daron stared, his brow furrowing. The man's face...it was familiar.

Recognition slammed into him like a sledgehammer.

"You're...Laurence Massfield," Daron stammered, eyes wide with awe and disbelief.

Laurence's grin broadened. He inclined his head in a playful bow. "The one and only. A pleasure to officially make your acquaintance, Daron Lamb."

Laurence Massfield, the strongest magician alive. A title he earned through his immense strength and bravery a few years ago when he almost singlehandedly stopped the eighth breach, an attempt by the monstrous creatures from the Desolate Wastelands to invade the capital. The Citadel would’ve been wiped out, the mere thought of what could have happened had Laurence not intervened sent shivers down ones spine.

Everyone in the Citadel—the whole continent—knew this man.

“Mr. Massfield—” Daron began, but Laurence cut him off with a friendly grin.

“You can just call me Laurence. I imagine you have questions," he said, his tone gentle yet firm. "And I assure you, I will provide the answers you seek. But first..."

He rose from his chair in one fluid motion and approached the bed, his eyes gleaming with amusement and something else Daron couldn't quite place. Power, perhaps. Or danger. He placed his hand on Darons shoulder, the touch made Daron flinch a bit.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Daron. Don’t worry, you're safe now."

The words echoed in Daron's ears as he stared up at the enigmatic man before him. Safe. The concept felt foreign, almost laughable after the horrors he'd endured. It had been a distant thought for a while. Yet, there was still a sense of caution inside him that made him tread carefully. He took a deep breath, meeting Laurence's gaze with a determination that surprised even himself.

"How do you know my name? Where am I?"

Laurence smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You're at Mercy Hospital. In the Life District."

He waved a hand dismissively. "As for how I know you, well, I make it my business to know things. Especially about promising young magicians like yourself."

Daron's brow furrowed. Promising? Him? Nothing about the past few weeks, or really his entire life, had felt very promising.

"I don't understand," he said slowly, meeting that piercing purple gaze. "Why are you here? What do you want with me?"

Laurence scrutinized Daron with a mix of curiosity and concern. "I was investigating the Order of Resurrection, tracking their movements to an old warehouse on the outskirts of the city. That's where I found you, trapped in some kind of dungeon cell."

Daron struggled to recall anything beyond the endless days of torture at Burge's hands. The memories were hazy, out of reach.

"You were in bad shape when I got you out of there," Laurence continued. "I brought you here to recover."

Daron's brow furrowed as he tried to recall what happened, his mind frustratingly blank.

Laurence leaned forward, now with a serious face. "What's the last thing you remember?"

The young man swallowed, hesitating. Images flashed through his mind - the cell, the torment, the void, his talk with... No, he couldn't share that.

"I remember seeing Burge leave, like he always did after..." His voice trailed off, unwilling to relive the horrific memories. "And then… nothing, until waking up here."

"I see.” Laurence nodded slowly, as if confirming something to himself. “Daron, I'd like you to join the organization I lead. The Special Magic Force."

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

Daron blinked, perplexed. Him, join the legendary SMF? The elite unit that served directly under the Magistrate? He was baffled. It made no sense.

"What? Why me?"

A hint of a smile played at the corners of Laurence's mouth. "I have an eye for potential, and you have it in spades. More than that, I think we can help each other."

He paused, letting the weight of his next words sink in. "I can help you find the ones responsible for your parents' deaths."

Daron's heart seized in his chest, a swell of dark emotions rushing through him - pain, anger, the thirst for vengeance that had sustained him through the darkest moments of captivity. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white. A burning desire for revenge surged through his veins, tempered only by the daunting weight of responsibility that came with Laurence's offer.

Daron opened his mouth to respond, to voice the tangled web of emotions and doubts that swirled within him. “I—,” But before he could utter a word, the door burst open with a bang.

"Daron!" a familiar voice cried out, thick with emotion.

His head snapped to the side just in time to see Anne hurtle across the room, her copper hair flying behind her like a banner. She flung her arms around him, nearly knocking the breath from his lungs with the force of her embrace.

Sobs wracked her slender frame as she clung to him, her face buried against his shoulder. "You're alive," she choked out between gasps. "I was so worried, I thought...I thought..."

Daron's arms came up instinctively to wrap around her, his own eyes stinging with unshed tears. The sight of her and the warmth of her presence was like a balm to his battered soul. It had been a long time since he had felt such warmth.

“Oh, the young miss. She's been waiting for you to wake up almost as long as I have. I'll leave you two alone… think about what we discussed, Daron.”

The magician smiled as he slipped out of the room, giving them the privacy of their reunion.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Daron tightened his hold on Anne, letting her heartfelt sobs wash over him. For a fleeting moment, the weight of his grief and the looming decision ahead seemed to fade, eclipsed by the sheer relief and gratitude of having his best friend by his side once more.

Anne's sobs gradually subsided, and she pulled back to meet Daron's gaze, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. "I was so worried about you," she whispered, her voice trembling. "After your parents..." She paused, her lips quivering as she struggled to find the words.

"Were murdered." Daron finished the sentence for her, his tone flat and hollow. The word tasted bitter on his tongue.

Anne reached out and took his hand, her fingers warm and gentle against his skin. "It's okay," she said softly. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

Her expression a mix of sympathy and shared pain. "You disappeared without a trace. We searched everywhere for you, but it was like you'd vanished into thin air. I was so worried"

Anne's brows furrowed slightly as she studied Daron's face, her eyes tracing the sharp angles and hollow contours that had once been soft and familiar. She looked down. Deep, weirdly dark scars were running along his arms. She mustered his hand in her own, his fingernails… were black?

"Daron, what happened to you?" she whispered, her voice thick with concern.

Daron looked away, unable to meet her gaze. "Nothing much," he said quietly. "I can't remember much of anything anyway…"

He tried to steer the conversation away from the topic. "Hey, can I borrow a mirror? You look at me like I’m some kind of zombie."

Anne hesitated for a moment before nodding and reaching into her bag. She pulled out a small, handheld mirror and handed it to Daron, watching anxiously as he lifted it to his face.

The reflection that stared back at him was like something out of a nightmare. His once-vibrant brown hair was now streaked with dark, inky black strands hanging limp and lifeless around his face. His cheeks were sunken and hollow, his skin pale beneath the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital room. And his eyes... they were haunted, shadowed by pain and grief that seemed to go beyond words.

Daron stared at himself for a long moment, his fingers trembling as they gripped the mirror's edges.

He chuckled coldly, his voice barely audible. "Damn, I really look like a corpse, huh?"

Anne's heart twisted at the unfamiliar tone in his voice. She reached out and gently took the mirror from his hands, setting it aside

“It’s not that big of a deal” she tried to cheer him up, giving him a warm smile. “Hey, after you’re feeling better, do you maybe want to live with us for a while? My parents said we have a room for you to stay in, what do you say?”

Daron's gaze snapped up to meet Anne's, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine it - a life where he could just forget about everything that had happened… But even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew it was impossible.

"No," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "I... I don't think I can, Anne. Not after everything that's happened."

He looked down at his hands, at the scars that criss crossed his skin like a twisted roadmap of his past. "I feel like it's my fault, what happened to my parents. And I can't rest until I find out why they did this to them... and make them pay."

Anne's eyes widened, a glimmer of fear in their depths. "Daron, what are you saying? You can't go after whoever did this alone! It's too dangerous!"

He looked up at Anne, his eyes pleading for her to understand. "I'm sorry, Anne. But this is something I have to do. I hope you can understand."

Anne bit her lip, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks again. She wanted to argue, to beg him to reconsider... but deep down, she knew it was useless. Daron had made up his mind, and nothing she said would change that.

"Okay," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "I... I understand. Just promise me you'll be careful, okay?"

Daron nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I will. And I promise I'll come back to you, Anne. No matter what happens."

Anne managed a watery smile in return, reaching out to squeeze his hand one last time. "You better," she said softly. "Here, take my number. Call me when you're ready to talk, okay? I'll be waiting."

She took out a piece of paper from her bag, scribbled on it and pressed it into his hand, her fingers lingering for a moment before she pulled away.

“Oh and one last thing,” she took a small rectangular present out of her bag and placed it on the night table beside him. “Happy Birthday.”

With one last look, she turned and walked out of the room, her heart heavy with the knowledge that everything had changed... and that nothing would ever be the same again.

Daron watched her go, the paper clenched tightly in his fist. He felt a pang of regret, a longing for the life he could have had... but he pushed it aside, his jaw clenching with determination.

And as he lay back against the pillows, his eyes slowly closing, he knew that there was no turning back now. The die had been cast, and he would follow this path wherever it led him... no matter the cost.