The stone floor of Ironspire Prison was as cold as ice, seeping deep into the very marrow of his bones. Yet, that chill was nothing compared to the agony racking Julian Vance's entire body. With every exhaled breath, fresh blood seeped from the corner of his lips, soaking the rotting straw that served as his pillow.
The heavy thud of boots echoed through the narrow corridor. Julian didn't need to look to know who was coming. The pungent scent of rose perfume amidst the stench of prison urine belonged to only one person.
"Still alive, Julian?"
Baron Cedric Halloway stood behind the iron bars. The torchlight on the wall reflected a cold glint in his eyes. Beside him, two burly guards held whips still slick with Julian's blood.
Julian tried to lift his head. Every inch of his muscle felt as if it were being pierced by a thousand needles. "Cedric... why?" he whispered hoarsely. His voice was barely audible.
"Why?" Cedric laughed, a dry, merciless sound. "You know exactly why. You were far too clever for a mere commoner serving as my assistant. You knew about those medical procurement records, didn't you? You knew exactly where the royal gold was going."
"That... that was money for the plague-stricken people, Cedric," Julian choked on his own blood. "You let them die for... for your luxury."
Cedric spat toward Julian. "Commoners are destined to die. But you? You have another use. Lady Isabelle, my fiancée... she died so tragically, didn't she? And the entire kingdom saw you standing beside her corpse with a scalpel in your hand."
"You killed her!" Julian roared with the last of his strength. "You poisoned her and forced me to dissect her body to find the 'cause,' when you just wanted me caught red-handed!"
Cedric signaled to one of the guards. The cell door opened with a harrowing screech. The guard stepped in and grabbed Julian by the hair, forcing his face up toward Cedric.
"No one will believe you, Julian," Cedric whispered, leaning down until his face was only inches away. "In the eyes of Aethelgard law, you are a cold-blooded murderer who defiled the honor of the Halloway family. Tomorrow morning, you will be hanged in the town square. And I? I shall be the grieving hero."
"You... monster," Julian hissed.
"Perhaps," Cedric replied calmly. "But I am a monster with power. Torture him again. Make sure he doesn't die before dawn, but make sure he begs for death."
Cedric turned and walked away. The two guards smirked. One of them, a man with a scar on his cheek named Silas, swung his whip.
CRACK!
The tip of the whip tore through the shredded skin on Julian's back. Julian screamed, but the sound died in his throat.
"Come on, boy. Don't give up so fast," Silas jeered. "The Baron said we have to keep you awake. How about we try your fingernails?"
"Please... just kill me," Julian moaned.
"Heh, that's too easy," the other guard chimed in. He stepped on Julian's right hand with his boot, pressing down with all his might until a sickening crunch was heard. Julian's metacarpal bones shattered.
Julian howled in agony, his eyes bulging until red veins were clearly visible. The pain was so intense that his world began to fade into blackness at the edges.
Hours passed like an eternity in hell. Ironspire Prison was deathly silent, save for Julian's weak whimpers and the drip of water from the damp cell ceiling. The guards had left after satisfying their cruelty, leaving him to rot in the darkness before the morning execution.
Julian lay on his back. His world was blurring. He no longer felt the pain in his back or his shattered hand. He only felt a cold emptiness.
Isabelle... forgive me, he thought weakly. He pictured the face of the woman he truly respected. Julian knew his death would change nothing. Cedric would remain in power, and the name Julian Vance would be recorded in history as a monster.
"I am... innocent," Julian whispered for the last time.
His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling made of black granite. Outside, the skies of Aethelgard were raging. Thick, dark clouds rolled in, bringing an unusual storm.
Julian's breath grew shorter. Once... twice... and then, his lungs stopped moving. His heart gave one last weak thump before finally surrendering. The light in his eyes dimmed, leaving a cold void. Julian Vance had died in the darkness of Ironspire.
At that exact second, a flash of bluish-white light split the night sky.
BOOM!
A massive lightning bolt struck the highest tower of Ironspire Prison with a force that shook the building's entire foundation. The vibration traveled through the stone walls, sending a wave of static electricity that filled the cell where Julian's body lay.
At the same time, in a different dimension, a man named Dr. Alistair Thorne was staring at a fading surgical light as his own heart stopped beating on a modern hospital operating table.
The lightning strike acted as a bridge.
In the dark cell, the fingers of Julian's unshattered left hand suddenly twitched.
His eyelids, which had been open and vacant, slowly closed for a moment, then snapped open again with a violent jolt. However, the look in his eyes was different now. There was no more fear. No more of Julian Vance's despair.
There was only a cold, analytical, clinical sharpness.
The man took a long, sharp breath—the first breath of a new life.