The Manor had fallen into a hushed stillness, and Elysian quietly exhaled as the final traces of his sleeping spell settled over Caleb. He watched as Caleb’s breathing steadied, his friend’s face finally releasing the tension that seemed etched there, buried beneath layers of responsibility, uncertainty, and—Elysian now realized—a trace of hope. Despite all the ways they’d supported each other since their youth, this was a side of Caleb he’d rarely glimpsed: vulnerable, unguarded, his resolve softened in the quiet comfort of sleep.
Elysian lingered, studying Caeb’s expression. There was a weight behind Caleb’s furrowed brow, which only intensified over the years as he distanced himself from connections, sacrificing himself to duty and status. For all his outward strength, Caleb had a wound that had never healed—a wound Elysian was beginning to suspect had worsened since he met this woman, Celestia.
With a final glance at his sleeping friend, Elysian left his study and went back towards the guest room that Caleb had to desperately protect. His Magic didn't need incantation, which is one of the perks of being Archmage, you could say. So a silencing spell was shortly cast before he entered the room, careful to keep his movements soft. The fire in the hearth was still flickering, offering Elysian enough light. Celine had rolled to her side and seemed relaxed, but her Mana was fragile, flickering weakly like a candle threatened by the faintest breeze. Kneeling beside her, Elysian extended his hand, summoning a stabilizing spell and a regeneration spell to help the natural process. The glow of soft light pooled between his fingers, casting a warm, blue shimmer over her face.
There was something distinct about her Mana—its frequency pulsed with a quiet strength, a resilience he respected. This close, he could see the faint lines of strain etched into her expression, the evidence of battles fought alone. It was no wonder Caleb’s concern had been so fierce; he could sense it, too—that rare, intangible bond between them. The faint strings of golden-purple light shimmered out of the room back to Caleb in his study, invisible to most but unmistakable to Elysian, attuned to such powerful connections.
As he worked, Elysian’s thoughts turned back to the Caleb he’d known in their youth—before Caleb’s parents had drawn a wall of iron around him, scarring him in ways no physical injury ever could. He remembered Caleb’s mother and the unspoken rules she’d imposed, cold and unyielding, shutting down her son’s softest inclinations. This merciless upbringing, Elysian believed, led Caleb to avoid relationships, leaving behind the few girlfriends of his teenage years to bury himself in work, training, and the unforgiving path of nobility his father, Duke Nightglen, set for him.
For as long as Elysian could remember, Caleb had poured himself into becoming a lord, a swordsman, a mage, and a strategist—everything he believed he needed to be, leaving no room for anyone to come too close. Until, perhaps, Celestia Pendragon, the woman Caleb could not let out of his sight since their first, heated encounter at the City Office. The story of Celestia's fall still lingered in Elysian’s memory, a painful reminder of how Caleb, bound by his status and the expectations that came with it, had witnessed the disaster unfold. Elysian knew that Zara, Caleb's assistant, had long harboured a deep crush on Caleb, her insecurities bubbling to the surface in a moment of reckless cruelty. She had been appointed to her position by Caleb’s mother, who viewed her as an ideal match for her son—a potential Duchess moulded in the image she envisioned, someone who could be controlled and would seamlessly fit into the nobility.
In her misguided attempt to protect Caleb from what she deemed unworthy distractions, the assistant had kept many women away from him, ensuring they never entered his orbit. Little did Caleb know that his mother and Zara had carefully curated his social circle to exclude anyone she felt could rival her claim to his affections, all while pretending to act in his best interests.
But fate took an unexpected turn when Celestia managed to secure an appointment thanks to Mr. Jenkins’s visit to the city office. As usual, he had gone to update Caleb on the ongoing matters at the Manor, and without the assistant’s watchful eye at the front desk, Celestia’s presence slipped through the cracks of her carefully constructed barriers.
The memory seemed to weigh heavily on Caleb. There was a deeper reason he hovered over Celestia, a guilt born not just of his position but of the regret that he hadn’t done more that day—hadn’t protected her from harm. Elysian sensed this protectiveness now, woven into Caleb’s every decision, guiding his actions and, perhaps, his feelings.
The glow from the spell softened as Celestia’s Mana stabilized, and Elysian quietly exhaled, feeling the faint pulse of her energy settle into a steady rhythm. He closed his hand, extinguishing the spell, and stood. Looking at her one last time, he felt a pang of sympathy; she was alone here, in a Manor where she barely knew a soul, yet her fate was somehow bound to Caleb’s.
With a quiet sigh, Elysian left to return to Caleb, who still slept peacefully, undisturbed by the rising tide of worries that tomorrow would bring. Moving with practised ease, Elysian slipped his arms beneath his friend and lifted him, bearing his weight effortlessly as he crossed the room toward Caleb’s quarters. It was a practised gesture born of years of trust and quiet understanding between them. And with some help of one or two spells to make his friend lighter. As he made his way down the dimly lit hallways.
He laid Caleb on his bed, arranging him carefully so that sleep would continue taking hold. Gazing down at him, Elysian felt the faintest flicker of worry himself. Caleb was powerful, a formidable mage and leader, yet he was human, shaped by deep wounds he couldn’t always keep hidden. Perhaps Celestia’s unexpected presence could be the balm his friend needed.
“Sleep,” Elysian murmured, allowing himself a small, hopeful smile. “Tomorrow’s battles can wait.”
He extinguished the lights in Caleb’s room, leaving his friend in peaceful darkness. As Elysian retreated to his own quarters, he felt a rare sense of reassurance. Maybe, just maybe, the threads of fate were weaving something powerful and good, something that could mend Caleb’s guarded heart.
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Celestia plunged into the nightmare immediately and completely. Darkness engulfed her, heavy and suffocating, weighing down on her senses. The air carried the metallic tang of blood and decay, a sickening scent that turned her stomach. The cold, damp stone of the dungeon pressed against her bare feet, a stark contrast to the warmth of the surface world. All around her, the shadows twisted and coiled, alive with an unnatural hunger that sent a shiver down her spine.
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A whisper rose in the silence—soft, mocking, like the distant scrape of metal against bone. She turned, her heart pounding, only to find herself back in the City Office. The walls loomed oppressively, warped and towering, their surfaces pulsing with veins of shadow. Faceless figures surrounded her, their laughter a cruel, discordant melody.
"Look at her," one hissed, its hollow eyes burning into her with an intensity that made her skin crawl. The shadowy figure's form twisted and writhed like smoke caught in a bitter wind. "What a waste of a woman." The words dripped with venom, echoing through the warped chamber. "Pathetic," another spat, its voice like broken glass scraping against metal. The second figure loomed closer, its presence radiating a cold that chilled her to her very core. "No family. No power. No worth." The cruel words hung in the air like daggers, each syllable designed to cut deeper than the last to remind her of every doubt that had ever plagued her thoughts.
The words twisted around her, suffocating her with their weight. She clutched at her chest, gasping for air, but the onslaught continued. The faceless figures began to dissolve into smoke, reforming into people she recognized—shopkeepers, adventurers, nobles she had passed in the city streets.
"Is that the cursed one?" "I heard her best friend abandoned her. Can you blame her?" "She’s just a shell of what she was."
The voices grew louder, and a relentless tide of shame crashed over her. She stumbled back, her vision blurring, until a new figure emerged from the haze—Ellynn.
Celestia reached for her, desperate for comfort, her trembling fingers seeking the familiar reassurance of her best friend's touch, but the warmth she sought was painfully absent. Ellynn's expression was twisted beyond recognition, her once-gentle features contorted with disdain, a cruel mockery of their friendship for so many years. The air between them felt heavy, charged with an unnatural tension that made Celestia's heart constrict in her chest.
"I stayed as long as I could," Ellynn said, her voice cold and sharp. "But you… you’ve become someone I can’t stand. You’re not worth saving."
Celestia’s hand dropped, trembling, as Ellynn vanished into the shadows. The ground beneath her feet cracked, and she fell into a void, her screams swallowed by the endless abyss.
When she landed, the dungeon walls rose around her, darker and more twisted than before. Chains dangled from the ceiling, their metal dripping with black ichor. A figure stepped forward, and her breath caught—Ryker. His smile was soft, achingly familiar, and hope flickered in her chest momentarily.
"You were always my brightest star," he murmured, cupping her face with hands that felt warm, alive. His touch was achingly familiar, a reminder of countless tender moments shared beneath the city's twinkling lights. The memory of their first kiss rushed to the surface, tender and sweet, a fragile moment of happiness in the storm of her life. His eyes had sparkled then, full of what she'd believed was love, making her feel cherished and whole for the first time since childhood.
But then his grip tightened, bruising, and his smile twisted into something cruel. His warmth turned to ice, his features darkening as his voice grew sharp. The gentle gold in his eyes hardened into something metallic and unforgiving like a blade waiting to strike. The air around them grew heavy with malice, thick with the weight of his betrayal.
"Did you really think you meant something to me?" he sneered, his words dripping with contempt. "You were nothing but a pawn, Celestia. A tool to be discarded." His fingers dug deeper into her skin, each point of contact a burning reminder of how thoroughly he had deceived her, how completely she had fallen for his carefully crafted lie.
The shadows around him writhed and pulsed like living tendrils, consuming his form with an unnatural hunger as another figure emerged from the darkness—Caleb. His remaining golden eye shone like molten fire in the gloom, but the warmth she had come to rely on, the gentle understanding that had become her sanctuary, was utterly gone. His expression was cold and pitiless, carved from stone. The eyepatch that usually covered his right eye was missing, revealing a hollow void that seemed to devour the very light around it, an endless well of darkness that made her soul recoil.
"You ruin everything you touch," Caleb said, his voice devoid of the kindness she had once found solace in, each word falling like shards of ice against her skin. "I should've left you in that dungeon. Just like Ryker did. You deserve nothing more than the darkness you bring."
Celestia backed away, her heart pounding against her ribs like a caged bird as the two figures stepped closer in perfect, predatory unison. Their voices blended and twisted together, creating a cacophony of Ryker's venomous spite, Caleb's bone-chilling coldness, and something far darker lurking beneath—an ancient, guttural voice that vibrated through the very marrow of her bones and echoed with the weight of countless nightmares. The sound seemed to pull at her very essence, threatening to unravel her from within.
Their bodies began to melt, and their features distorted as they fused into a single, monstrous shadow. Its form was fluid and ever-changing, and its face flickered between Ryker, Caleb, and something grotesquely inhuman. Its eyes burned with malice, and its voice was a layered symphony of cruelty.
"You can't escape me," it hissed, its words slithering into her ears like poison, a vile whisper that clung to her mind like a noxious fog. "No matter where you run or how far you go, I will always find you. You are mine, Celestia. Forever." The shadow's proclamation carried the weight of an inescapable curse, a promise of eternal torment that chilled her to the core.
The shadow lunged with terrifying speed, its claws stretching toward her like gnarled tendrils of darkness, seeking to ensnare her very soul. Celestia's heart pounded in her chest, each frantic beat echoing the desperate need to flee, to escape the malevolent force that pursued her relentlessly.
The shadow loomed larger, its laughter a deep, bone-rattling rumble that echoed through the dungeon, reverberating off the cold stone walls until it felt as though the entire world had been consumed by its mocking mirth. It reached her, its claws wrapping around her throat with a vice-like grip, cutting off her scream before it could escape her lips. As it tightened its hold, she saw her reflection in its burning eyes, a twisted mirror that revealed her own face staring back at her, contorted into a mask of despair and failure so profound that it threatened to shatter her very soul.
"You are worthless," it whispered, its voice a hiss of finality that carried the weight of a death sentence, a cruel proclamation that sought to strip her of every shred of hope, of every glimmer of light that still flickered within her. The shadow's words burrowed deep, like barbed tendrils seeking to corrupt the very essence of her being, leaving her adrift in a sea of darkness that threatened to consume her utterly.
The world shattered. Celestia bolted upright, gasping for air, her body drenched in sweat. The room was quiet, the shadows of her nightmare retreating, but their presence lingered like a stain on her soul.
She hugged herself, her hands trembling as she tried to shake the phantom touch of the shadow, the lingering echo of its voice. The night’s suffocating weight bore down on her, and though she was awake, she couldn’t escape the haunting truth whispered in her dreams.
