The prison cell was narrow and damp, buried deep beneath the castle. No light reached this far. Only the sound of Allen's breath and the slow, rhythmic drip of water echoed in the dark.
He lay curled on the cold stone floor. His ribs ached with every breath. His stomach was hollow. His skin was marred by cuts some still bleeding, others crusted over in crude scars. A heavy metal collar clung to his neck, humming faintly with suppressive energy.
So this is how it ends, he thought.
Each day, the guards came.
They beat him. Laughed at him. Kicked him just to watch him writhe.
"Still think you're special, freak?"
Boot to the gut.
"Your brother can't save you now."
Whip across the back.
One night, they dragged him out, shackled him to the ceiling by his wrists, and used him as a punching bag until he lost the strength to scream.
They called it justice.
He called it routine.
Then on the seventh day the cell door slammed open.
Serenya Kaelith strode in like a storm wrapped in flesh, fury etched across her face. Her blade was drawn, the edge trembling with barely restrained SERRA.
"You didn't just hurt my sister," she hissed. "You poisoned her."
Allen didn't move. His lips cracked into a dry, bitter smirk.
"Poisoned her? Are you insane? I've been locked in this hole for a week. What do you think I did slipped through the bars like a ghost?"
Her eyes burned.
"Lord Barron is gone. On a mission, somewhere only the Council knows. Lord Zephran has taken command. You won't escape this time. You'll be executed in the close future. In front of the whole kingdom. Lord Barron won't be here to protect you after hearing what you've done."
She turned and left without another word, her boots echoing like hammer strikes through the corridor.
Allen blinked up at the ceiling, unfocused.
"Execution...?"
He coughed.
"I won't even survive the night. I'm starving..."
His eyes dulled.
All the training. All the pain. All the promises.
It meant nothing.
No matter how gifted he was, he couldn't bridge a gap built over centuries.
He couldn't fight fate.
Then
A rustle of cloth.
A figure approached the bars bent, weathered, draped in servant robes. Her face was lined with age, but her eyes were soft. Kind.
She carried a small cloth bundle.
"Eat," she said gently.
Allen turned away.
"Go away."
She ignored him, setting the bundle on the ground. Bread. Dried meat. Water.
"I said go," he croaked, but she didn't budge.
She came again the next day. And the day after that. Always with a soft smile. Always with warm food.
On the third visit, Allen finally cracked.
"Why?" he rasped. "Why do you keep coming?"
Her smile didn't waver.
"You remind me of my son."
Allen gave a dry, humorless laugh.
"He must've been a pain in the ass."
"He was," she said warmly. "Loud. Stubborn. Always doing reckless things just to prove a point. Just like you."
"You know I'm a criminal, right?"
"I don't believe that."
Allen squinted at her.
"I'm confessing. I did it."
"You're a terrible liar."
"How do you know?"
"A mother's heart never fails."
His gaze dropped.
"I never had a mom."
She was quiet for a moment. Then her voice came softer, more fragile.
"My son unfortunately died sixteen years ago. One of Ikki's warriors. Brave. Devoted. He gave his life protecting a six-year-old boy… a boy named Allen."
Allen froze.
"That was you."
His breath caught in his throat.
"I read the report after it happened. I didn't want to believe it your name, your face... it was all there. For years I told myself it was worth it. That his death had meaning. That he'd saved someone special. But then..."
Her voice cracked.
"Then I saw who you became."
She looked away, her eyes heavy with disappointment.
"Drunk. Arrogant. Always in trouble. Always chasing things that didn't matter. A boy blessed with power and protection... and wasting it all. You had the Iron Chain. You had purpose. And you treated it like a game."
Allen didn't respond.
"So when I heard you'd been imprisoned… that you'd lost the Chain… I thought maybe it was fate. I came to poison you. I thought maybe that would make things right. Maybe that would be justice."
She paused, then looked directly at him.
"But I saw you in that cell. Bleeding. Starving. Trying to survive, but not begging. You weren't the same boy. I saw you protect that girl. I saw you hold your ground, even when the world wanted you gone."
She stepped closer to the bars.
"You've changed. Maybe not enough. Maybe too late. But it's something. And if my son were alive, I think... he'd want me to believe in that spark."
Allen stared at her. This time, his voice was lower. Not bitter, but hollow.
"You don't understand..."
He hesitated.
"I trained every day. I broke my body just to stand where others begin. I bled. I fought. I gave everything I had just to breathe their air. But it's not enough."
He looked at his trembling hands.
"No matter how gifted I am... I can't close a gap that was built over centuries. I'm nothing compared to them. Just a shadow."
His voice cracked.
"Even now, I can barely stand. What use is talent when you're a thousand years too late?"
Lara said nothing for a long while. She let his pain speak.
Then, gently:
"They'll execute you in the morning," she said. "Unless you fight back."
"I can't," he whispered. "I'm weak."
"You learned SERRA in less than a month. Don't talk to me about weakness."
"That doesn't matter. Serenya is ten thousand times stronger."
She smiled sadly.
"So was I once."
Her gaze drifted into the dark.
"I was born into one of Xarion's strongest families. But I had no SERRA. Nothing. People whispered I was cursed. Useless. But I kept working harder and harder. I kept believing. I lost my entire family in a fire. My father's body was never found. For sixty years, I've searched for answers. I'm powerless... but I never stopped hoping."
Allen's eyes locked onto hers.
"You've got no excuse," she said quietly.
He whispered, barely audible:
"My lady... what's your name?"
"Lara Walter."
"Can you... call Serenya for me? I need to talk to her."
Hours later, Serenya returned. Alone.
She stepped into the cell without hesitation. Her blade was already drawn.
She grabbed Allen by the collar and slammed him against the wall. The sword's edge pressed to his throat.
"My sister is dying," she said. "And you still lie."
Allen didn't flinch.
"I want to help."
"You die tomorrow. Or now."
The blade kissed his skin.
A hum stirred faintly beneath the collar.
He still had the Iron Chain.
"Scared?" Allen said, flashing a bloody grin. "Afraid of me that much?"
"You're delusional."
"Then prove it. I challenge you."
She blinked.
"To a Trial of the Condemned."
An ancient rite. A duel to the death. Criminal versus accuser. If the accused won, their crimes were erased.
Serenya froze.
Allen's voice was low, but steady.
"You won't get the cure if you kill me now."
Her eyes flared.
"So it was you!" she shouted, slamming him to the ground.
"Three days," she spat. "You've bought yourself three days. If you're lying, I'll make you beg for death."
She turned and stormed out, blade humming with fury.
Allen watched her vanish, his fingers curling into fists.
"I want to see you try," he muttered.
But in his heart, he was already sinking.
She's too strong.
I can't beat her. Not like this.
But he had three days.
And sometimes, three days was all a condemned man needed.