*FLASHBACK 6 Years ago*
Maitata travelled into the town of Cobble City. The sky over the town was a bruised, heavy slate, hanging low enough to swallow the church spires. The air didn't smell of rain; it smelled of damp wool, cold mud, and the sharp, sour tang of collective panic.
Maitara felt small—not just because she was a Dwarf, but because the world felt suddenly, dangerously vast. Her oversized boots sloshed through the grey slush of the streets, her hands tucked deep into her pockets to hide their trembling. She was just a girl looking for a place to rest, but the town of Oakhaven was in no mood for weary travelers.
A roar rose from the town square—not a cheer of joy, but the ugly, jagged sound of a mob finding a target.
Maitara was swept along by the press of bodies until she reached the front. There, standing on a makeshift wooden stage, were four acolytes. They looked pathetic, their faces smeared with dirt and tears, their tunics torn to reveal the Mark of Gannurim. The jagged sigil of the Chaos Dragon Lord looked like an angry burn against their pale skin.
The sheriff, a man whose face was etched with a permanent scowl of exhaustion and fear, stepped to the edge of the platform. He didn't sound like a hero; he sounded like a man trying to convince himself he was doing the right thing.
"Look at these people-" he shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of the grey sky. "These people are associated with the Chaos Dragon Lord. They bring the darkness with them! They're the reason the crops fail and the fever spreads! They are enemies of the world! And for that... they hang."
The crowd roars as they yelled, "Hang them!" Says the old woman. "Swing them up! " Says the old man.
The youngest acolyte, a boy, stepped forward. His voice was a thin, desperate wail. "Please, sir, I beg of you! We didn't cause all of these-"
"Quiet!" the sheriff snapped, his hand trembling as he signaled the hangman. He couldn't look the boy in the eye. "Do it."
The thud-crack of the wooden beams echoed through the silent square.
Maitara's breath hitched. A phantom itch burned under her own sleeve, right where her own Mark lay hidden. It felt like fire against her skin, a brand that linked her to the dying people swinging above. For a second, she was sure the sheriff would look down, see right through her clothes, and call her name next.
Panic surged, hot and dizzying. She squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers digging into her forearm. She reached for that cold, humming spark of magic deep in her gut, pulling it upward like a heavy blanket. She imagined a layer of thick, grey stone covering her skin, chanting a silent, frantic prayer until the burning sensation of the Mark faded into a dull, icy numbness.
When she opened her eyes, the crowd was already beginning to break away, some people weeping quietly, others staring at the ground in shame. Maitara didn't wait. She tucked her chin into her collar, adjusted her pack, and began to walk. She didn't run—running invited questions—but she moved with a rhythmic, desperate focus, leaving the grey town and the swaying shadows behind her in the mist.
*End of Flashback!*
"That's why I hid my mark," Maitara whispered. She was pulled into a tight ball on the dirt, her knees tucked against her chest as if she could disappear into herself. "From everyone. Even from you guys."
The heavy silence that followed was punctured by Akmenos, who shifted his weight awkwardly. "Well, we kind of know now," he pointed out, his voice lacking its usual tact. "Since, you know, you showed it to us."
Geth's head turns toward him, a low growl vibrating in his chest. "Will you shut up? She's having a moment, and you're trampling all over it."
Maitara didn't seem to hear them. Her gaze was fixed on the brand etched into her skin—a jagged, dark stain that felt like a weight she couldn't drop. "I think some people are just forced to carry it," she said softly, her voice trembling. "When I looked at those acolytes today... I saw it in their eyes. They weren't monsters. They were just people who got caught in the dark, and then they were killed for it."
"No."
The word was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. Ethan stood up,"People who bear the mark of Gannurim are wicked. That's it. Period. You think a mark like that happens by accident? They chose to follow Him. They chose the darkness, and they deserved exactly what they got."
Maitara's head swung up. The tears in her eyes didn't dull the sudden, amber fire behind them.
"Hey, back off," Geth warned, stepping between them.
"Why are you defending her?" Ethan demanded, his voice rising with a mix of fear and fervor. "She doesn't just carry the mark—she carries his power! Look at her! Are you all so blinded by her magic that you can't see the rot right in front of you?"
Geth hissed, his scales catching the light. "May I remind you, I'm a lizardman, you idiot! We might succumb to a sleeping spell, but we are immune to mind control. My head is clear—is yours?"
"So you're a traitor then?" Ethan sneered. "Siding with a creature like her"
"I am no traitor!" Geth roared, his hands slams into his cell!
"Enough!"
Hythesion's voice didn't just command silence; it demanded it. The air in the room seemed to vanish for a heartbeat, and every mouth snapped shut. All eyes turned toward him, but it was Maitara who broke the stillness.
She stood up, no longer the "joyful little dwarf girl" they had traveled with for weeks. She looked older, burdened by a century of exhaustion.
"Yes," she said, her voice cracking but carrying a terrifying strength. "I bear his mark. I carry his power. And every single second of my life, I want him out."
She stood up, with fist in her hands, her voice rising into a jagged cry. "Every night, I hear him. He whispers to me, telling me to- to tear things apart, to hurt people, to be the monster he wants me to be. He tries to control me. I... I have spent every night of my life fighting for my own body! Just to make one choice that belongs to me and not him!"
She wiped a stray tear with the back of a shaking hand, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
"I'm tired, Ethan. I am so, so tired. That's why I'm going to Morea. He vanished there once; I'm betting my life he can be made to vanish from me, too." She took a shuddering breath, her eyes searching theirs. "Am I bad for being desperate? For wanting to know what it feels like to have a quiet mind? To just... to just be able to sleep without him screaming in my ear?"
She looked Ethan dead in the eye, the fire in her gaze cooling into a cold, hard resolve. "Believe what you want to believe. I know who I am."
The silence that followed was heavy, thick with the weight of her confession. Nobody moved. The crackle of the torches in the cells was the only sound in the room.
Finally, Akmenos let out a long, slow breath. He turned his head slightly toward Ethan, his expression one of pure, unadulterated judgment.
"You really are an idiot," Akmenos muttered.
Ethan said nothing. He simply stood there in the shadows, unable to meet anyone's gaze.
The heavy silence of the dungeon was broken by Hythesion's voice, soft but steady. "Maitara..."
He leaned back against the damp stone wall, catching her gaze. "That day at the library, when you showed me how you could read those ancient ruin texts—it amazed me. I know people fear the Gannurim power you carry. They saw a person with that mark, immediately think they are a monster. But I've never seen you that way. Not for a second."
"Me too, little girl," Akmenos added, his gruff voice uncharacteristically gentle.
Geth nodded, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. "It was a shock at first, I'll admit. But your heart is pure, Maitara. As a hero I can sense that."
Hythesion straightened up, his eyes flashing with newfound resolve. "You said you wanted that power out of you—that going to Morea was the only way. Then that's where we go. We'll deliver this pendant ourselves." He looked around at the small, ragtag group huddled in the torchlight. "We're getting out of here. Together."
"That's the spirit, mate!" Akmenos grinned, cracking his knuckles.
"It's exactly what heroes would do," Geth said, though he couldn't help but check his own reflection in the polished steel of his sword, a small, proud smirk tugging at his lips.
"You suck, boooo! So dramatic," Akmenos teased, shoving Geth's shoulder.
"Shut up," Geth chuckled, the tension in the room finally snapping into a moment of genuine warmth.
As the laughter faded, Hythesion turned back to Maitara. The weight of their situation—the impending King's trial, the cold iron bars—felt lighter now. "We can't wait for the trial. If we stay, we're at the mercy of a crown that doesn't understand us. We leave now, who's with me?"
Maitara wiped the salt from her cheeks, a small, shaky smile finally breaking through. For the first time in days, the shadow in her eyes seemed to recede.
"Oohhh, I'm in!" Akmenos barked.
"Let's do this," Geth echoed.
The group turned as one toward Ethan, who had been brooding in the corner. He stared at them like they had all grown second heads. "You've all lost your minds," he muttered, sliding down the wall to sit firmly on the floor. "Count me out. I'm staying right here."
Geth ignored him, turning back to Hythesion. "But, sir Hythesion, how? These cells are thick, it has anti magic, and the guards are plenty."
Hythesion reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing the cool wood of the box containing the pendant. He looked at the heavy iron door of the dungeon, then back at the box. A spark of inspiration took hold.
"I know exactly what we're going to do," Hythesion said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But I need you all to trust me."
Akmenos and Geth exchanged excited looks.
"You have my sword, Sir Hythesion," Geth said, standing tall.
"And my fists," Akmenos added, rolling his shoulders.
Maitara stood up, the light returning to her expression, her fear replaced by a flicker of hope. "Well then... what's the first move, Sir Hyth?"
Hythesion looked down at the box one last time, a clever, dangerous smile playing on his lips. "We're going to give Sir Larry exactly what he wants."