Deep within Torturer's Deep, far from the noise and lamplight of the main cavern, a hidden grotto sprawled in damp darkness, its passages twisting like a labyrinth.
There, three men and three women moved in silence, feeling their way forward with held breath.
The only light came from the torch raised high by the middle-aged man leading them. Its flickering yellow flame barely cut into the blackness, casting a dim glow on the slick, moss-covered path beneath their feet and the jagged stalactites looming above.
"Your Highness, this way... mind your step."
His voice was low, pressed down by a tension hard to miss. He angled his body past a sharp rock outcrop, thrusting the torch into a narrow gap ahead.
Following close behind was a frail young Maiden, her face disfigured by hideous scars.
She faltered, unease clear in her trembling voice. "Must we truly flee like this? The man who bought us, perhaps he..."
The middle-aged man stopped short, turning toward her. Torchlight caught the deep lines of worry in his eyes. "Princess, forgive my bluntness. He may hail from Yi Ti as we do, but he hides far too many dreadful secrets. The ghost grass, the black stone—they call back the days of Carcosa... Every moment we remain at his side increases the danger of exposure. This is our last chance. We cannot look back."
The scarred maiden's brow furrowed in pain. "But where can we run? My uncle's hunters never relent. That Yi Ti man commands an army, his strength growing so quickly... perhaps he is our only hope to oppose my uncle—or even reclaim Yi Ti?"
"Hope?"
The man's reply was bitter, heavy with despair, as if her naïve thought had pierced him. "Your Highness, be clear. Yi Ti kneels under the God-Emperor's rule, and Carcosa groans under your uncle's iron hand. Even if we returned, no throne would await us—only cages and the headsman's axe. Our claim to rule lives only in the hearts of a few pitiful loyalists in Carcosa. Beyond the Hidden Sea, it is worth nothing."
The scarred maiden shook her head stubbornly, clinging to her last fragile belief. "But this Yi Ti man is different. He holds the ghost grass and the black stone. He must know something—or be searching for their secrets. Otherwise, how could he possibly..."
Her words cut off as sudden chaos broke.
Clang! Clang! Clang—!
A dense, icy chorus of metal striking metal rang from the depths of the cavern.
"No!" The man's face blanched. He ripped the short blade from his belt in an instant. The other two guards closed ranks, shielding the scarred maiden and the other women behind them.
But they were already too late.
Whoosh—!
The crushing dark of the passages ahead and behind split apart as countless torches flared to life.
In their glare, silent figures stepped from the shadows.
The Dragon Soul Guards.
They closed in, pinning the fugitives where they stood. Despair washed over the six like a flood.
...
Torturer's Deep. The great sea-carved hall.
Whale oil lamps burned dimly, staining the vast space in hues of yellow and shadow.
Lo Quen sat high upon a roughly carved stone seat. Jaelena occupied his right, her sharp gaze fixed forward, one hand on her sword hilt. To his left, Janice watched with violet eyes, her expression a mix of scrutiny and curiosity.
In the center of the hall, the air pressed heavy.
Six fugitives knelt, forced down by the unyielding hands of the Dragon Soul Guards.
The middle-aged man and his two escorts were bound fast with coarse hemp rope, their faces marked with fresh bruises and blood—clear signs of the struggle they had put up before capture.
The scarred maiden and the two other women had only their wrists tied.
Lo Quen's icy gaze swept slowly across the group, his voice echoing against the stone walls of the hall.
"Now, tell me your true identities. From the Slave Square of Volantis, you slipped into my ranks. Why? And why did you steal my ghost grass?"
A suffocating silence filled the hall.
Lo Quen gave the faintest signal to a Dragon Soul Guard standing closest to the middle-aged man.
Clang!
With a piercing metallic screech, the guard suddenly raised his Valyrian steel longsword. In an instant, the blade locked onto the head of a young guard beside the middle-aged man. The sword ripped through the air with inhuman speed and power, coming down mercilessly.
"Stop! I'll talk!!!"
At the last possible instant, the middle-aged man's eyes bulged as he roared.
The blade halted just an inch from the young guard's throat, its icy edge slicing several strands of his flying hair.
The guard collapsed to the floor, drenched in cold sweat, the shadow of death suffocating him.
Lo Quen's gaze shifted to the middle-aged man, cold and unshaken.
The man gasped, struggling for words. "Lord, we truly are from Yi Ti, like you. Only... only we were struck by war, fell into slavery, and were exiled abroad..."
Lo Quen's brow furrowed with disgust.
He didn't bother to reply, his gaze flicking back to the sword-wielding Dragon Soul Guard.
"Please don't harm them! I'll speak the truth—all of it..."
A clear voice rang out. It was the scarred girl.
Lo Quen lifted his hand, and the guard's sword froze again in mid-air.
The scarred girl drew a deep breath, her voice trembling yet clear. "We are not natives of Yi Ti, nor of Leng. Our homeland is Carcosa."
"Carcosa?"
Lo Quen's eyes sharpened like needles.
The name stirred old fragments of memory.
A city suspended beyond the known world, deep within the Dawn Mountains of the Far East, on the southern shores of the Hidden Sea.
It lay outside the domain of Yi Ti's current nominal ruler—the Azure God-Emperor—and was held instead by a powerful sorcerer who proclaimed himself the "sixty-ninth direct descendant of the Yellow Dynasty."
The Yellow Dynasty—an ancient realm that had ruled Yi Ti for centuries before the Azure.
The ugly girl's voice grew heavy. "We joined your ranks to escape pursuit—pursuit from my uncle, the usurper-sorcerer who now rules Carcosa."
Her words painted a bloody scene. "My father was Carcosa's last rightful lord. But a few years ago, one night, that demon—my uncle, corrupted by power and dark magic—murdered him in the cruelest way, seizing his title. He then locked me in a dark tower, waiting for the moment he chose to end my life. His greed and cruelty forced us to flee."
"With the sacrifice of a few loyal guards and maids, I barely escaped that cursed city. Wandering west, I disguised myself as a slave in Volantis... until I met you."
Her gaze lingered on Lo Quen, troubled and searching.
Lo Quen stared back at her. "Your surname is Chai?"
The imperial line of the Yellow Dynasty bore the name Chai.
The ugly girl nodded firmly. "Yes. My name is Chai Yi."
The middle-aged man beside her straightened his back and declared loudly, "Before you stands the rightful heir of Carcosa, the sole legitimate ruler of Yi Ti—the Princess of the Yellow Dynasty..."
"Enough."
Lo Quen's cold voice cut through his fervent proclamation, a flicker of disdain in his heart.
Before absolute power, such hollow titles were laughable.
He looked at the man's face, flushed with rage and humiliation, and said flatly, "I remember you. Your name is Luo Wen, isn't it?"
Luo Wen clenched his teeth and nodded stiffly. "It is, my lord. I beg you, show mercy and release our Princess. Last night's mistake was born of madness. We are willing to apologize, to compensate you fully for the loss of ghost grass. We only ask that you spare her life."
His tone was low, pleading.
"Apologize? Compensate?" Lo Quen let out a cold, derisive laugh, as if hearing the world's most absurd joke.
"If betrayal and theft could be erased with apologies and payment, what need would there be for swords and law? You trespassed into my forbidden grounds, stole my secrets, and were caught by me. That is the unshakable truth. Now you are no princess, no retainers—only prisoners beneath my feet. Release you?"
He shook his head slowly, his gaze as dark and deep as an icy abyss. "Impossible."
With a thud, Chai Yi dropped to her knees on the cold stone floor, her voice fierce with resolve. "Lord, if you would show mercy and help me kill my usurping uncle, the kinslayer who murdered my father, I would do anything for you."
Lo Quen looked down at the "princess" kneeling like dust before him, his eyes without the faintest hint of pity.
"For a promise as empty and uncertain as yours, I should travel ten thousand miles to make mortal enemies with a sorcerer I've never met, whose power is unknown? Princess Chai Yi, your promise is worthless to me. Can it win me Yi Ti's crown?"
At his words, Chai Yi trembled violently.
After a moment of suffocating silence, she said, "Lord, I know you've long tried to cultivate ghost grass. I can tell you a secret—a secret about how ghost grass can truly grow in abundance."
At that, Lo Quen's eyes finally flickered with a trace of emotion.