*Date: 33,480 Third Quarter — Thornbrook Village* - A month ago
Aris woke to darkness and pain.
His head throbbed. Every heartbeat sent a fresh wave of agony through his skull. His mouth was stuffed with cloth, tied in place. He tried to scream, but only muffled sounds escaped.
His hands were bound behind his back. His legs were tied together at the ankles. He was sitting on the dirt floor, propped against the wall.
And across from him, sitting in a chair, was Rodran.
The man's head was bowed. His hands were clasped together, squeezing so tight his knuckles were white. He looked like he was questioning his own decisions. Like he was fighting with himself.
Finally, he raised his head.
"Sorry, Aris." Rodran's voice was quiet. "I can't open your mouth now. In the morning, when the townfolk wake up, your voice will blend in. But for now, sleep again."
Aris tried to struggle. Tried to break free. But the ropes were tight, and his head was spinning. The world faded in and out.
The last thing he saw before darkness took him again was Rodran's face. The guilt. The desperation. The madness lurking just beneath the surface.
---
Morning came with pain.
Aris woke to find himself still tied. Still gagged. Still trapped.
But now he could see the room clearly. Rodran had been busy during the night.
In the corner, near the fireplace and cauldron, a new structure had been built. A prisoner's bed made from hay, covered with a rough blanket. Shackles were bolted to the wall beside it. And on the floor, a bucket. For waste.
Aris's stomach turned.
Rodran was preparing for a long stay.
---
The man himself was standing by the cauldron, stirring something. When he noticed Aris was awake, he set down his spoon and approached.
"Good morning," Rodran said. His voice was too cheerful. Too forced. "Let's get you comfortable."
He knelt and untied the ropes around Aris's legs. The moment they were free, Aris tried to kick. Tried to push Rodran away with his shoulder.
But Rodran was bigger. Stronger. And Aris was weak from the blow to his head.
Rodran grabbed Aris's arm and pulled him to his feet. Then he dragged him toward the corner, toward the hay bed and the shackles.
Aris tried to resist. Tried to dig in his heels. But Rodran was relentless.
"Stop fighting," Rodran said. "It'll be easier if you stop fighting."
Aris tried to channel magic. Tried to summon a healing spell. Or a light spell. Or anything.
But the moment he tried, something pulsed in his head. A sharp, stabbing pain that made him gasp. The magic died before it could form.
Rodran pushed him down onto the hay bed and snapped a shackle around his left ankle. The metal was cold against his skin. Then he untied Aris's hands and quickly shackled his left wrist to the wall as well.
Aris's right arm was free. But his left side was chained. He could move, but not escape.
Rodran reached up and untied the gag.
Aris spat out the cloth and took a deep breath.
"What is this?" Aris's voice was hoarse. "Why can't I manifest magic?"
"Do you really think I'd be stupid enough?" Rodran smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "That's a magic blocker. For low ranks. I'm guessing you're very low rank."
Aris's blood ran cold. A magic blocker. A device that prevented spellcasting. They were rare. Expensive. The kind of thing only someone with serious resources could obtain.
"Let me go immediately." Aris's voice shook with rage. "And this stays between us. That man kidnapped my friend. I need to find him."
Rodran scratched his head. "You realize the situation you're in, right?"
"I don't care. Just let me go. After the tournament, I'll spend all the time with you. I'll teach you everything. Just let me go now."
"No."
"I need that prize. I need to free my friend. My friends." The word hit Aris like a physical blow. Friends. Plural. Fox was gone. Lyra was trapped. Demir was... Demir was somewhere, maybe alive, maybe dead.
That son of a bitch, Aris thought. Vorn had taken Fox. And Aris couldn't do anything about it because he was chained to a wall in a madman's house.
"I can't believe it," Aris whispered.
"Sorry, Aris." Rodran's smile was turning evil. Twisted. "But you're all mine now. You'll teach me regardless. If you want to be free, you'll teach me."
"Rodran, you just fell to a second of temptation. This isn't you. You're a good person. A hard worker. Trying your hardest to leave a dent in this world. Like me."
"Then start teaching me and earn your freedom."
"No. Let me go immediately."
"Like I said." Rodran's voice hardened. "Get used to your situation. You might want to start with the bucket. I'm leaving now. I'll be back with food." He walked toward the door, then paused and turned back. "Scream all you want. They didn't care when..." He smiled. "...never mind."
"What?" Aris asked. "What didn't they care about?"
"Never mind." Rodran's smile widened. "We have so much time. I'll tell you when you start sharing."
---
Rodran returned an hour later with bread and water. He set them on the floor within Aris's reach, then sat in his chair and watched.
"Eat," he said. "You'll need your strength."
Aris didn't move. He just stared at Rodran, his rage building.
"Eat, or I'll force-feed you."
Aris picked up the bread. It was stale. But he ate it anyway. He needed to keep his strength. Needed to find a way out.
"Good." Rodran nodded. "Now. Teach me."
"Teach you what?"
"The blood-infused potions. The ones the Master makes. The ones you showed Adon."
Aris's stomach dropped. "No."
"You don't have a choice."
"I won't teach you that. Those potions are evil. They require sacrifice. They corrupt everything they touch."
"Then you'll stay here forever." Rodran's voice was calm. Too calm. "I have time. I can wait. Can you?"
Aris said nothing.
"Show me," Rodran said. "One demonstration. That's all I ask."
"No."
Rodran stood and walked to the fireplace. He picked up a poker, the metal glowing red from the coals.
"Show me," he said again.
Aris looked at the glowing poker. At Rodran's face. At the madness in his eyes.
And he knew. He knew that Rodran would hurt him. Would break him. Would do whatever it took to get what he wanted.
"Fine," Aris whispered. "I'll show you."
---
The demonstration took an hour. Aris walked Rodran through every step. The herbs. The timing. The magic. And finally, the blood.
A single drop. That's what the recipe called for. A single drop of blood, added at the exact moment the mixture reached the right temperature.
Rodran watched with hungry eyes, taking notes the entire time.
When it was done, the potion glowed with an inner light. Dark red. Almost black. The kind of power that could change everything.
"Now you try," Aris said.
Rodran's attempt failed. The mixture turned to sludge. But he didn't seem discouraged.
"I'll get it," he said. "I'll keep trying until I get it."
Aris looked at the shackles on his wrist and ankle. At the bucket in the corner. At the hay bed that was now his prison.
And he knew. He was trapped. Completely and utterly trapped.