Idris took a deep breath. The air was cool as it entered his nostrils. He took another. This time it was sweet on his tongue. He smiled to himself. How long has it been since I had fresh air? I can only imagine what it’ll feel like when I’m out of this place.

  He began to climb the spiral. One step at a time. Each one was more difficult than the last. His body felt heavy, and his muscles felt weak. He figured he’d feel a bit out of his element…but not to this extent. Even the use of his mist to zip behind the magicians ate more of his energy then he’d like to admit. He held his hand out, channeling his mana. Summoning his sword. He would need it.

  But nothing came.

  He frowned at his hand, chalking it up to him not having enough energy.

  He gripped onto the railings as he continued. Even that was a burden. His breathing became labored and he could feel his eyelids fighting to stay open. I guess I am a bit tired. And hungry.

  That was another issue. The bloodlust. His hunger only made it worse. But only the feral would transgress and consume human flesh and blood. The orange eyed fiends. He would never stoop to that level, and that's exactly where the problem was. The urges were always stronger when hunger overtook a vampire. In his case, calling it hunger was being tame. He felt like an animal. Like he should rip into one of them and drain them for all the nutrients they hold. But he had to stay strong.

  It felt like the end of the stairs was never coming. Whatever light the opening was let through somehow seemed more dim the more he got closer. His thoughts began to spiral. How long have I been out? What happened after they captured me? Is my family okay? Tsk. I doubt anyone even survived that bloodbath. Those damned magicians.

  The anger pushed him forth, giving him the ability to drag his way up to the top. Once there however, he met another obstacle.Through the light that snuck in from the trapdoor he could see them. Those damned magicians.

  Six of them to be exact. He sighed. He thought about blitzing them, but the energy expenditure would be too much for him. I’d end up losing it if I did that.

  His smile began to grow. I have a better idea.

  He hunched down, inching higher and higher until two of their heads were in clear view. None of them were facing the actual entrance, all away from it. Guarding to make sure no outsiders see hmm. Interesting.

  He pointed his finger at one, a dark tendril of smoke began to flow from its tip. It snaked its way towards one of them, slithering underneath his robe. It was enough to make them jolt, and turn their heads towards him. Bingo.

  The magician locked eyes with Idris. Within the darkness, the magenta stuck out, catching his attention easily. That was exactly what he needed. The magician froze. Idris’s eyes began to glow, a luminescent pink shone through the blackness. Touhom. The Al-Bey clan’s hypnosis.

  Do me a favor and take care of your friends for me.

  The magician went into a frenzy. The others around him turned towards him startled, wondering what nonsense he was up to.

  The magician screamed. Madness tearing its way out of his throat. He spun on the nearest of them and unleashed a bolt of ice point-blank. The blast detonated with a concussive crack, hurling the unfortunate mage across the clearing.

  “Have you lost your mind?!” one of the others shouted, already raising a barrier.

  Too late.

  The hypnotised magician laughed, eyes glassy, movements jerky and wrong. He tore through spells he barely understood, overcharging them, mangling them. Water twisted into raining arcs. Ice condensed into razors. He lashed out wildly, every spell fueled by Idris’s whispered command echoing in his skull.

  Idris watched what he could from the shadows, chest rising and falling heavily. His vision swam, but satisfaction cut through the haze. Good. Tear each other apart.

  Before the frenzy could burn itself out, Idris let the hypnosis collapse. The magician stiffened mid-cast, confusion flashing across his face just before a retaliatory spell from one of the survivors punched straight through him.

  Silence followed. Ragged, broken.

  Idris didn’t slow.

  When he crested the top, the scene greeted him like the aftermath of a storm.

  Bodies. Turned earth. Cracked stone. And standing amid it all, only three magicians remained. All injured. All exhausted. All very much unprepared for someone who could still move.

  They turned toward him as one.

  Idris closed the distance in a blur, ducking under the first desperate spell and driving his elbow into the caster’s throat. The man folded. A pivot, a kick to the knee of the second—down. The third managed to raise a ward, but Idris smashed through it with brute force and slammed his fist into the mage’s jaw, sending him sprawling into the dirt.

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  Silence settled again. This time, final.

  Idris stood there for a moment, chest heaving, then exhaled sharply and staggered a few steps away from the carnage. He dropped down beneath a nearby tree, back against the trunk, letting his head fall back as he stared up at the sky filtering through the leaves. The sun was beginning to reach its peak. It’s warmth that he always hated so much felt like a blessing. Even as it drained him of what energy he had left, he felt relieved that he could see the sky once more.

  “Damn,” he breathed, closing his eyes. “I need a minute.”

  ***

  He began to sigh to himself. He tried remembering what had happened before he was sealed but his memory was blurry. Who would have thought. He let the idea drift away as he pushed himself to his feet. Lounging around for too long, especially there, will just bring more trouble. Idris stepped forward, and into the forest of Ardonia.

  At once, the world seemed to soften.

  Towering trees arched overhead, their trunks ancient and thick, bark etched with natural sigils formed by time rather than magic. Their canopies intertwined like cathedral vaults, leaves filtering the sunlight into drifting motes of gold and emerald. Each step he took stirred the scent of moss and damp earth, rich and alive, so different from the sterile stone and confinement he had known for so long.

  He slowed without realizing it.

  Flowers bloomed in impossible hues along the forest floor, deep violets that shimmered like dusk, pale blues that glowed faintly as if holding fragments of moonlight, and crimson petals veined with silver that pulsed gently when he passed. Some curled inward shyly, others tilted as though watching him. The grass brushed against his boots, cool and soft, humming faintly with latent mana.

  Birdsong echoed through the trees, layered and melodic. Somewhere deeper within the woods, something chittered and bounded from branch to branch, laughter-like and light. Idris tilted his head, listening, momentarily forgetting the ache in his limbs, the gnawing hunger twisting in his gut.

  For a moment he wasn’t a weapon.

  He wasn’t a survivor of a bloodbath. He wasn’t a vampire clawing his way through restraint and rage.

  He was simply walking.

  Sunlight spilled across his path, catching on dew clinging to massive spiderwebs strung between roots and ferns. Each strand refracted color, tiny rainbows trembling with the forest’s breath. His magenta eyes traced them absently, captivated. How long has it been since I noticed things like this?

  Too long.

  The forest watched him with a patient curiosity, as though weighing his presence rather than rejecting it. Mana, energy, flowed here freely, not forced into rigid shapes by twisted incantations, but drifting naturally, like a slow current beneath the skin of the world. Idris could feel it brushing against his senses, soothing where it touched, easing the tight coil in his chest.

  The path ahead curved gently, swallowed by shadow and light in equal measure. Idris adjusted his cloak and continued onward, steps unhurried now, thoughts drifting with the rustle of leaves overhead.

  The forest thickened the farther he went.

  Trees pressed closer together, their roots knotting and overlapping like the bones of something long buried. The light dimmed beneath them, shadows pooling over Idris as the air grew cooler and still. Vines hung low, heavy with broad leaves and pale blossoms that exhaled a faint, sleepy fragrance. He brushed past them carefully, mindful not to tear anything that looked like it had taken decades to grow.

  Then—space.

  The trees thinned abruptly, opening into a narrow path bathed in sunlight. Grass grew short here, trampled and rebounding, and wildflowers clustered along the edges as if the forest itself had stepped aside to breathe. Idris slowed, senses sharpening.

  Someone was there.

  Ahead, near the edge of the path, a woman stood half-hidden among tall stalks of silver-green leaves. A black veil draped over her head and shoulders, sheer enough to catch the light but dense enough to obscure her features. She was reaching upward, stretching on her toes, fingers straining for a pale flower growing just out of reach from a low branch.

  She missed it, again.

  A soft sound of frustration slipped from her as she huffed and tried once more, nearly losing her balance in the process.

  Idris cleared his throat.

  Not loudly. Just enough.

  The woman stiffened instantly, spinning toward him. Her hand dropped to her side, posture tense beneath the veil.

  “Easy,” Idris said calmly, lifting one hand in plain view. “I’m just passing through.”

  Silence hung between them, broken only by the wind stirring the grass. The woman studied him for a moment, unreadable behind the dark fabric. He could only assume her eyes were glued on his. Figuring out what he was. Surprisingly, her shoulders eased.

  “…I didn’t sense you approach,” she said. Her voice was soft, cautious, but not afraid.

  “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to hide,” Idris replied. “Just walking.”

  Her gaze flicked past him briefly, then back. After a pause, she turned again toward the plant, fingers curling in her veil. “I need that flower,” she admitted. “But it refuses to cooperate.”

  Idris followed her line of sight. The blossom in question was delicate—thin white petals tinged with gold, swaying just beyond reach. He recognized it faintly, though the name escaped him. Rare. His apothecaries were fond of them. Useful. Fragile.

  “Mind if I help?” he asked.

  She hesitated, then stepped aside with a small nod. “If you’d be so kind.”

  Idris approached the plant, movements careful. He extended his hand, steady despite his fatigue, and gently bent the branch downward. The flower dipped obediently.

  He plucked it cleanly and straightened, offering it to her.

  The woman accepted it with both hands. “Thank you,” she said, genuine warmth entering her voice. “You saved me quite a bit of embarrassment.”

  He shrugged lightly. “Didn’t look embarrassing. Just… determined.”

  She tucked the flower away in a small pouch at her waist. “Safe travels, then. And thank you again.”

  “You too,” Idris replied.

  He didn’t linger.

  With a final nod, Idris turned and continued down the path, the forest gradually closing in behind him once more. The encounter faded as quickly as it had appeared, like a passing breeze, but the calm it left behind followed him, lightening his steps as he disappeared deeper into the woods.

  Even so, he couldn’t help but wonder what a woman was doing in Ardonia. Ardonia had nothing useful for humans. What good was it now? Had so much really changed?