The past three days, Lucian spent in the dungeon was hell for him, he was being tortured every single hour he spent there for a crime he didn't commit. His only companion was the rats and the cockroaches who searches for food and sometimes crawls to his body. His once elegant face was now bruised and stained with his own blood. His body now reeks with odour and his once beautiful robe was torn, he didn't know what to do and whom to run to.
"Why is all this happening, this never happened in the novel, why the sudden change. Whats wrong, did I alter the events in book, when I entered it. Lord please help me." Lucian said sobbing.
Then the sound of the door creaking open made him flinch violently, instinctively crawling back into a corner like a wounded animal. His vision, blurry from the swollen bruise over his left eye, managed to focus on two figures entering inside.
Alistair Serathine walked in first: tall, composed, and dressed immaculately in black. His blonde hair, always slightly tousled, looked untouched by chaos. Following him was Sebastine, dressed in royal blue, his expression unreadable, eyes devoid of warmth.
Lucian's heart pounded. He didn't know which was worse: Alistair's icy smile or Sebastine's silence.
Alistair approached slowly, his boots echoing softly as he crossed the floor. He didn't immediately look at Lucian instead, he stared at the rusted table in the center of the room, cluttered with tools that glinted under the torchlight. Yet he didn't touch any of them.
He stopped in front of Lucian, crouched down to his level, and tilted his head. "Why did you do it?" he asked gently. "Why did you kill Reniel?"
Lucian's throat was dry, his lips cracked. "I… I didn't," he croaked. "I swear, I didn't do anything to him."
Alistair gave a soft chuckle,one that didn't reach his eyes. "Of course you didn't," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from Lucian's face. "I believe you, Lord Lucian."
Lucian blinked, confused. For a second, hope flickered.
"But," Alistair continued, now gripping Lucian's chin a little too tightly, "you do realize how convenient your presence was, right?" He leaned in, his breath cold against Lucian's cheek. "Reniel dies, and the stranger appears. The fragile, innocent stranger who knows no one, claims to know nothing, yet finds himself seated next to Royal nobles."
Alistair stood again, brushing dust off his coat. "You were there. That's all that matters." He walked away from Lucian and back to the table, picking up a slender dagger with an ornate handle.
"You know," he said, weighing it in his hand, "I always wondered what kind of scream Reniel made before he fell. Was it quick and sharp? Or long… dragged out… like someone realizing they're not going to be saved?"
Without warning, Alistair turned and flung the dagger.
It sliced through the air and landed in Lucian's thigh with a sickening thud.
Lucian screamed, collapsing onto the ground. His vision spun as blood quickly soaked through what remained of his robe. Alistair tilted his head again, his eyes calm as ever.
"That," he said with a hint of amusement, "might've been how Reniel sounded."
Sebastine, who had remained by the wall this entire time, finally moved forward. He didn't kneel, didn't offer help, he just stood and looked down at Lucian, his gaze impassive.
"You disgust me," Sebastine said, voice low. "Reniel was a good and lovable person . And you? You're just a filthy outsider we should never have let breathe our air."
Lucian whimpered. "I didn't…"
"Spare us that nonsense" Sebastine cut him off. "Your tears aren't proof of innocence. Just weakness."
He turned to leave but paused at the doorway. "He spoke well of you that night, you know. Reniel." His lips curled slightly. "He was thinking you were special. Now look at you."
With that, Sebastine disappeared into the corridor.
Alistair crouched again beside Lucian, watching him bleed. "That was harsh," he said with a sigh. "But general do tend to be dramatic. You should be thanking your stars that he didn't choose to torture you because if he has you won't be alive by now."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small glass vial. Clear liquid sloshed inside.
"Here," he said, uncorking it. "Drink. Water."
Lucian hesitated, eyeing the bottle.
Alistair smiled, and for a moment, the madness slipped through. It was in the slight twitch of his brow, the unnatural calm in his voice.
"Are you afraid?" he asked gently. "You think I'd poison you? That I'd stoop so low?" He laughed, then poured the liquid down Lucian's throat without waiting for permission.
It burned.
Lucian clutched his chest, coughing violently, his limbs convulsing.
"Don't worry, you are not going to die soon, Lucian. I will make sure of it" Alistair murmured, standing up. "You are going to beg to die but I won't allow you to go easily."
He walked toward the exit, then paused.
"Confess," he said without turning around. "Before I show you a side of me even I haven't met yet."
He tossed a handkerchief behind him. It fluttered through the air and landed beside Lucian's shaking form.
Alistair didn't look back.
As he left, he muttered something under his breath words no one could hear. But whatever they were, they clung to the room like a curse, refusing to fade even after the door slammed shut.
Lucian lay alone, bloodied and broken, with no comfort but the cold.
And somewhere deep in the palace, two leads plotted how to break what was left of him.