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The sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor.
When my eyes fluttered open again, three figures stood just beyond the iron bars of my cell. The guard. A tall knight in polished armor. And her—the girl from my dreams, now noticeably taller, her presence filling the narrow space like smoke.
The corners of her mouth curled into a wicked, predatory smile.
"Hello, mister assassin," she purred. "Ready for your interrogation?"
Before I could even process the words, the guard stepped forward, unlocked the gate with a grating screech, and seized both my arms. Cold metal rings snapped around my wrists. They glowed faintly blue, then tightened on their own, fusing my hands together in front of me like living shackles.
I stared at the glowing cuffs, half fascinated, half terrified. Magic. Actual magic handcuffs.
The girl turned and strode ahead without another word. The knight followed silently at her shoulder. The guard shoved me forward, bringing up the rear.
We walked. And walked. Twisting corridors—right, left, left again, right—up a narrow flight of stone stairs, down another wider one that smelled faintly of damp moss and old iron. Finally, they stopped before a heavy oak door reinforced with black iron bands.
The girl gave the knight a single glance. He moved without hesitation, pushed the door open, and ushered me inside.
The room was small but starkly elegant: stone walls, a single long table, three chairs. They guided me to the one facing the door and pressed me down into it. The knight and the girl took the seats opposite me.
The knight placed a plain white candle in the center of the table.
The girl folded her hands, closed her eyes, and began to speak in a low, reverent tone.
"O Goddess of all creation, grant me your wisdom. Kindle this candle with the flames that seek only truth."
She paused.
"Al Friera."
A soft burst of golden light flared above the wick. The candle caught flame instantly—steady, unnaturally bright.
She exhaled slowly, then fixed her gaze on me.
"Let's begin. Who are you? And why were you with those people?"
I froze.
The truth? Telling her I was Sushant from twenty-first-century India, teleported here after meeting alternate versions of myself in some foggy void? Yeah. That would go over great.
But the prayer. The candle. The way everyone's eyes kept flicking toward it.
Truth-detection magic. Had to be.
I remembered the warning from the blue-haired version of myself in that strange place:
"Hey… don't tell anyone your real name, okay? It's not your name anymore. Choose one that feels right for this world."
Time stretched. The girl's patience visibly thinned.
"Hey," she snapped, voice sharpening. "You understand what I'm saying, right? Answer me."
Panic clawed up my throat. A name. Something believable. Something that fit.
"I… uh… I'm sorry," I stammered. "I don't… I don't know my name. Amnesia or something. And those people—they mistook me for an assassin they'd hired. That's all."
She repeated it slowly, eyes never leaving my face. "So… they mistook you for their assassin?"
Her gaze dropped to the candle. The flame burned steady orange. No change.
She looked back at me.
"Tell me exactly what you overheard them saying. And don't try to hide anything."
"Yes, ma'am," I said quickly.
I pieced it together in my head. Half-truths. Enough to satisfy the flame without giving away the impossible parts.
"I don't know their full plan," I said carefully, "but I heard them say they'd hired an assassin to kill some girl. They called her… 'Flame Girl.'"
The candle flame flickered—then flared bright red.
The girl's eyes narrowed.
"You're hiding something. Speak. Now. Or you'll face consequences."
"No, ma'am—please! I swear, that's everything I heard! I didn't hide anything!"
The flame settled back to calm orange.
She studied it for several long seconds, then glanced at the knight. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
She extinguished the candle with a pinch of her fingers. When she spoke again, her tone had softened completely.
"Gods, this is harder than I expected." She sighed, rubbing her temple. "I think our guess was right, William."
"Yes, Your Highness," the knight replied. His voice was deep, calm, carrying the quiet authority of someone used to being obeyed. "You were correct."
I blinked, utterly lost.
She noticed my confusion and offered a small, tired smile.
"Relax, kid. I'm sorry for putting you through that. I had to be sure. I needed to protect the people I care about."
"Oh… no, it's okay," I managed. "I'm actually grateful you didn't… you know… hurt me or anything."
She studied me for a moment longer.
"One more thing," I said hesitantly. "Now that I answered… what happens to me next?"
She leaned back. "I was going to keep you locked up. But you're clearly just a child, and holding minors without cause violates the kingdom's laws. So… you'll stay here. Under supervision. For now."
The word child hit like a slap.
A sudden, jagged pain lanced through my skull.
Flashes—children screaming, bruised faces, unconscious bodies slumped against walls. Adults in crisp uniforms scribbling notes on clipboards. Clinical. Detached. Cruel.
Then it was gone.
I was back in the room, gasping. The girl—princess?—was suddenly beside me, hand on my shoulder, shouting.
"Hey! Are you okay? Hey—say something! Hey!"
The world tilted.
Darkness rushed in.
…
When I collapsed forward onto the table, still unconscious, the knight's voice cut through the haze.
"Princess. Step back. He may be cursed."
"But he's a child, William. Did you see his face before he passed out? He looked terrified. I think… I think they tortured him."
"I understand. But you have duties. Let me handle this."
She hesitated, then nodded sharply.
"Take him to the healers. Find out what's wrong with him. And make sure he's cared for properly. He's still a suspect… but he's a child first. We need answers. Understood?"
"As you command, Your Highness."
The guard opened the door. The princess strode out first. William lifted my limp body with surprising gentleness and followed.
They walked straight toward the far wall. It shimmered and parted like water. Two paths branched. Princess took the left corridor. William carried me down the right.
…
Several hours later.
I woke to soft white light pouring through tall windows.
"Ugh… ow, ow, ow…"
I sat up slowly, head throbbing.
Bright ceiling. Not stone. Not bars.
A guest room. Clean linens. A wide bed. A massive dressing table with an enormous mirror.
Whoa. Rich people things.
I stumbled toward the mirror.
And froze.
Green hair. Golden eyes. A boy's face—fifteen, maybe sixteen years old.
Not mine.
But… familiar.
The pieces clicked.
The seven people in the fog. Blue hair and golden-brown eyes. Black hair and black eyes. Brown-haired kid. Red spiky hair. The girls. Their features had… blended. Into this.
That's why she called me "kid." That's why Vinala said that huh…
My body had changed.
I stared at my reflection, heart hammering.
"Why?" I whispered. "What's the point of all this?"
So many questions. Almost no answers.
I needed to figure this world out—fast. Before whatever was happening caught up to me.
A knock at the door jolted me.
I swallowed. "Who is it? …Come in."
The door opened. A young woman in a classic black-and-white maid uniform stepped inside carrying a silver tray with a teapot.
"Good evening, sir. My name is Lily Evans. One of the maids here. Master William instructed me to bring you tea once you awoke."
"Oh… uh… thank you."
My voice cracked. First real-life maid. Ever.
She poured the tea with practiced grace and handed me the cup.
"Here you are, sir."
"Thanks. Again."
Silence stretched, awkward.
I opened my mouth to ask about William—
But she spoke first, cutting straight to it.
"Master William also said you're to rest immediately after drinking this. He knows you have questions. He'll answer them himself tomorrow morning."
"Oh. …Okay. Cool."
She didn't smile. Didn't linger. Just took the empty cup when I finished, curtsied, and left.
I sighed.
The tea was warm. Herbal. Nice.
Then the dizziness crept in.
Wait… did she—?
My thoughts blurred.
Did I just walk into a trap?
Too late.
Darkness claimed me again.
…