The descent into the dungeons was a journey through the circles of Vyrnathar's own hell. Each step down the stone staircase seemed to absorb a little more of the light and hope they carried with them. The air grew thick with the stench of infection, sweat, and despair — a nauseating mixture that clung to their throats and lungs. Muffled screams and groans of pain echoed through the damp walls, creating a symphony of agony that tested the sanity of anyone who dared to listen.
When they finally reached the main level of the dungeons, the scene that unfolded made even Lysarion, hardened by years as a spy, hesitate for a moment. Cells lined both sides of the central corridor — some barred with iron, others sealed with solid doors that had only a small opening to pass food through. From within came sounds of ragged breathing, incoherent murmurs, and occasionally, a silence more terrifying than any scream.
"Valthor brought prisoners from every corner of the kingdom," Caelan explained quietly, his face a mask of restrained fury. "Anyone who opposed his decrees, questioned his policies, or even looked at him the wrong way."
Elyria felt the shadows around her writhe in response to her growing anguish. "This place is a feast for the darkness," Kaelith whispered in her mind. "So much pain, so much fear... it's intoxicating."
She silenced the entity's voice, focusing on Caelan. "Where are they keeping Rhaevan? He must be in a high-security area."
Caelan pointed toward the end of the corridor, where a massive iron door was flanked by two guards who looked even more imposing than the ones they had faced earlier. "The Royal Interrogation Chamber. Where Valthor conducts his... more persuasive questioning."
Lysarion studied the setup with the eyes of a strategist. "Two guards — possibly more inside. We'll need a distraction."
It was then that a weak voice emerged from one of the nearby cells. "Caelan? Is that you?"
Everyone froze as a pale hand appeared between the bars of the cell. Caelan cautiously stepped closer, his face lighting up with recognition. "Kaelen? By the gods, what have they done to you?"
The man in the cell — Kaelen — had a face marked by bruises and fresh burns, but his eyes still held a spark of recognition. "They discovered my loyalty to Theron. Valthor personally... interrogated me." He choked, a grimace of pain crossing his face. "He knows about the resistance network. He knows you're here."
Caelan exchanged a worried glance with the others. "How much does he know?"
"Everything," Kaelen whispered, his voice faltering. "He left me alive only as bait. This is a trap, Caelan. All the exits are sealed. You're cornered."
As Kaelen's words echoed down the corridor, the familiar sound of heavy armor began to ring out from both ends of the passage. The guards who had been flanking the Interrogation Chamber door turned in unison, their spears glowing with magical energy.
"Looks like our time's up," Lysarion said, drawing his daggers. "I'd suggest a plan B."
Elyria felt the shadows around her stir, responding to her rising determination. "No," she said, her voice firmer than she felt. "We're not retreating. Kaelen, where exactly is Rhaevan?"
"Inside the chamber," Kaelen replied, pressing his face against the bars. "But he's not alone. Valthor is with him. And... there are others. Something about a transfer ritual."
"Transfer?" Kaelith whispered, suddenly alert. "Not transfer, Elyria — transplant. He plans to transfer the guardian blood from Rhaevan into himself!"
The revelation struck Elyria's mind like a physical blow. She turned to the others. "We have to reach Rhaevan now. Valthor isn't just planning a ritual — he's becoming what Rhaevan is!"
The guards at both ends of the corridor began to move in formation, their armor clinking in a sinister rhythm. Caelan pulled a small metallic sphere from his pouch. "This will create a smoke screen that should blind them temporarily. But we won't have much time."
Before he could activate the device, the door to the Interrogation Chamber opened with a loud creak. Valthor Draven stood in the doorway, his face illuminated by a triumphant smile. And behind him, chained to a stone table, was Rhaevan — pale, bloodied, but conscious.
"Elyria Varnholt," Valthor said, his voice echoing through the corridor. "I knew you wouldn't resist a dramatic rescue. You're as predictable as your mother."
Rhaevan lifted his head with difficulty, his eyes finding Elyria's. "Run," he whispered, his voice hoarse from pain. "It's a trap. He wants you here for the ritual."
Valthor laughed — a sound devoid of any joy. "Too late for warnings, general. All the elements are now in place." He raised his hand, and the symbols on the floor around Rhaevan began to glow with a sinister red light.
It was then that Elyria noticed something strange about the chains binding Rhaevan. They weren't just iron — they were interwoven with silver threads that shimmered with the same light as the key hanging on her chest.
"The chains," Kaelith whispered, suddenly excited. "They're made from the same substance as the keys! They're not restraining him, Elyria — they're draining his guardian power!"
Valthor seemed to sense her realization. "While you were busy searching for keys, I was forging them. Every drop of blood Rhaevan spills here becomes part of the final ritual."
Lysarion began to move toward Valthor, but the guards blocked his path, their crossed spears forming an impenetrable barrier.
"I didn't come here to negotiate," Elyria said, feeling the shadows around her grow denser, more substantial. "And I didn't come here to be another piece in your game."
Valthor smiled, a gesture that never reached his cold eyes. "We're all pieces in the game, my dear. The only difference is that some of us know the rules." He made a motion, and the red lights around Rhaevan intensified. "And I wrote the rules."
Rhaevan screamed in pain as the chains glowed brighter, and Elyria felt something within her respond — a connection she had never known existed.
"Your blood and his are linked," Kaelith explained quickly. "Through the keys, through the ancestral pact. What happens to him affects you, and vice versa."
Elyria looked at Rhaevan, then at Valthor. She wasn't here just to rescue Rhaevan. She was here to complete a connection that had begun long before her birth.
And at the moment that realization struck her, the shadows around her exploded into motion.
To be continued...