Chapter 178: A Choice in the Dark

The cold seeped into Seraphina’s bones like a living thing, relentless and patient. Stone walls, iron bars, a single guttering torch somewhere beyond her cell that cast more shadows than light. The air was damp, heavy with the smell of mildew and something else—old blood, perhaps, or the despair of those who had occupied this space before her.

Her head throbbed with a deep, sickening pulse that made every thought an effort. The last blow—a soldier’s fist connecting with her temple—had been efficient. They knew exactly how much force to use to incapacitate without killing.

Seraphina’s eyes cracked open, vision swimming in the dim light. For a long moment, she simply lay there, trying to remember how to make her body respond.

"This... where...?" The words came out as a croak, barely audible even to her own ears.

She tried to move. The sharp bite of metal at her wrists brought immediate, brutal clarity.

Manacles. Heavy iron, bolted to the wall behind her. Her arms were stretched above her head, shoulders aching from the unnatural position. Her legs were free, but what good were legs when your arms were pinned like a common criminal?

’Oh... right.’ The memory surfaced through the fog of pain. ’I was hit. Fighting. They—’ She tested the manacles, pulling against them with what little strength she had left. The iron didn’t budge. Of course it didn’t.

’Your Highness.’

The thought cut through her physical misery like a blade. Elise. Where was Elise? They had been together when the soldiers overwhelmed them. She’d seen her princess collapse, seen the cloth pressed to her face, seen—

Seraphina’s eyes searched the shadows beyond her cell, straining to see through the gloom. Other cells lined the corridor, dark and empty as far as she could tell.

’They separated us.’

The realization was a knife in her chest. Elise was somewhere in this castle—alone, unprotected, her magic suppressed by that cursed collar. The Lich could reach her. The soldiers could do anything to her.

’No. No, I can’t think like that.’

She forced herself to focus, to assess her situation with the clarity her training demanded. Manacles: heavy iron, bolted to stone. Standard prison restraints, designed to hold anyone without specialized skills. In normal circumstances, she could have broken them with enough leverage and focus, her Oath could enhance her strength beyond normal limits.

But these weren’t normal circumstances.

Her body screamed with exhaustion. Every muscle ached from the beating she’d taken, from the desperate fight before that, from days of traveling and fighting and protecting with no real rest. Her stamina were dangerously low. She could feel it, an emptiness in her core that went beyond mere fatigue.

When had she last eaten? The meal at the bandit camp, she thought. Before the ambush. Before everything went wrong. That felt like days ago, though it could have been only hours.

Seraphina pulled against the manacles again, calling on every ounce of strength her exhausted body could muster. The iron groaned faintly, almost mockingly, but held firm. The bolt in the wall didn’t even shift.

Her arms dropped, the brief exertion leaving her breathless and shaking.

’Not enough.’ The admission tasted like failure. ’Even if I could break free, I’m in no condition to fight.’

She slumped against the wall, the cold stone pressing against her back through her torn and bloodied tunic. Her eyes drifted closed, then snapped open again.

"Hahh... what a day..." The words escaped her lips unbidden, a whisper of exhaustion and dark humor. Then she froze.

’What a day.’ Adam’s voice echoed in her memory—that casual, almost flippant way he had of acknowledging catastrophe without letting it break him.

A ghost of a smile touched her lips. ’Of all the things to remember...’

Then her eyes hardened.

Without another word, Seraphina’s muscles coiled. She pulled against the manacles with everything she had—every ounce of strength her battered body could muster. The chains rattled, the sound echoing through the prison corridor like thunder in the silence.

Clang. Clang. CLANG.

She didn’t care about the pain. She would not sit here like a helpless damsel while Elise was somewhere in this castle, alone and terrified.

"Hey." A voice cut through the darkness—rough, annoyed, coming from somewhere deeper in the cells. "Can you stop that? Do you have any idea what time it is?"

Seraphina’s movements paused. She squinted into the shadows, trying to make out the source of the voice. A cell across from hers, maybe? The darkness made it impossible to see.

"Who are you?" Her voice came out sharp, suspicious despite her exhaustion.

A dry chuckle answered her. "A criminal. Same as you, apparently."

Seraphina’s spine straightened despite the pain. "I am not a criminal. I am a knight of Melium. Do not compare me to common scum like yourself."

"Ooh, a knight." The voice was amused now, dripping with mockery. "Fancy. Okay, whatever you say, Your Knightliness. But could you maybe keep the noise down? Some of us are trying to sleep."

Seraphina’s jaw tightened. "I can’t do that. I need to get out of here. So... deal with it."

She resumed her struggle, pulling against the chains with renewed desperation. The iron bit into her wrists, skin tearing, blood beginning to flow. Pain lanced up her arms with each movement, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop.

The voice sighed heavily from the darkness. "You’re wasting your energy. Those manacles are reinforced—designed to hold mages and warriors alike. The more you pull, the tighter they get." A pause. "You’re just hurting yourself."

Seraphina ignored him. The chains rattled. Blood dripped. Her arms screamed.

"There’s no harm in trying," she gritted out between clenched teeth.

Another sigh—longer, more exasperated. Then a mutter, barely audible: "Looks like I’m not getting any sleep tonight..."

The rattling continued, a stubborn rhythm of defiance in the dark. Seraphina’s breath came in ragged gasps, her vision swimming with pain and exhaustion, but she didn’t stop.

The mysterious prisoner watched from the darkness as Seraphina continued her desperate struggle, chains rattling, blood dripping. He sighed to himself, settling back against his own cold wall.

’She’ll tire herself out eventually,’ he thought, closing his eyes. ’Just need to wait it out.’

But the rattling didn’t stop. It continued—clang, clang, clang—a relentless rhythm that grated against his nerves like nails on stone.

"Alright, that’s it!" He sat up abruptly, his voice sharp with frustration. "Stop! Stop! You’re going to bring the guards down here!"

Seraphina paused mid-pull, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Let them come." Her voice was steel wrapped in exhaustion. "I’ll deal with them."

She resumed pulling.

The prisoner let out a long, exaggerated groan. "Fine! Fine! You want to get out? I’ll help you."

Seraphina’s hands stilled on the chains. Her voice dripped with suspicion. "I don’t need help from a criminal. Besides, you’re trapped in a cell yourself. How exactly do you plan to help me?"

The darkness seemed to shift as the prisoner leaned forward, a hint of pride in his voice. "Don’t underestimate me, knight. I could escape this cell easily if I wanted to."

"Then why haven’t you?" Seraphina’s skepticism was palpable.

"Because it would be pointless." The prisoner’s voice grew serious. "Even if I got out, in my current state—weak, exhausted—I’d either be recaptured immediately or simply executed on the spot." A pause. "But with you... we might actually have a chance."

Seraphina’s brow furrowed. "That’s odd. Why not ask another prisoner? Surely there are others who would—"

"There aren’t." The prisoner’s voice dropped, losing its mocking edge. "No other prisoners left. They’ve all become ghosts."

Seraphina’s blood ran cold. "What do you mean?"

"This isn’t a normal prison, knight." The words carried weight. "It’s a death cell. They lock you here and simply... let you starve. Eventually, you die. The ones who were here before us are already gone. That’s why it’s just the two of us now."

Seraphina absorbed this, the implications settling in her gut like lead. ’They’re going to let me rot here.’

"So you’re new here too," she stated quietly.

"Sharp as a blade, aren’t you?" The prisoner’s voice regained its dry humor. "Yes, I’m new. Only been here a few days. Which means I’m still coherent enough to hold a conversation." A beat. "Unlike you, apparently, who seems determined to bleed out on the floor."

Seraphina ignored the jab, her mind racing. ’He’s confident. Arrogant, even. But he knows things about this place that I don’t. And if he’s telling the truth about being able to escape...’ She hesitated, her knight’s instincts warring with survival. ’Is it worth working with a criminal?’

The prisoner must have sensed her hesitation. His voice softened slightly, losing some of its mocking edge.

"Look, knight. We both want the same thing—out of here alive. I don’t care about your precious honor or what crimes you think I’ve committed. Right now, we’re the only two people in this hellhole who might be able to help each other." He paused. "So what’s it going to be? Pride? Or survival?"