Shadows of Ascension

Kael barely registered the journey as the guards dragged him through the winding corridors of the Council’s base. The edges of his vision blurred, and his limbs felt heavy and disconnected. The mana suppression cuffs continued to bite into his skin, keeping the connection to the Dreitailen severed. It was as if a part of his soul had been locked away, leaving him incomplete and exposed.

The guards led him to a reinforced transport vehicle waiting in the compound’s courtyard. Kael’s muscles strained against the restraints, but he knew better than to resist outright. The guards were on high alert, and there was nowhere to run. He could see the Council’s symbol—an iron fist clenching a serpent—emblazoned on the side of the vehicle, a stark reminder of the authority that had captured him.

They pushed him inside, and the heavy doors slammed shut behind him. The interior of the transport was cold and sterile, lit by a dim, flickering light that seemed to cast everything in shades of gray. Kael was forced into a seat, his restraints secured to the metal floor with thick chains. He was barely able to move, the weight of the chains pressing down on him like an iron shackle.

Across from him sat a pair of guards, their expressions blank and impassive. They didn’t speak, their eyes staring ahead as if Kael wasn’t even there. The silence was suffocating, and every breath felt like an effort.

The transport rumbled to life, the engine’s growl vibrating through the floor. Kael felt his stomach churn as the vehicle lurched forward, carrying him toward the place he had feared more than anything: the Citadel.

The Citadel loomed before him, its massive, iron spires jutting into the dark sky like the fangs of some monstrous beast. The transport stopped at the base of the main gate, and Kael was yanked from his seat and pulled out into the courtyard. The air was thick and cold, and the faint scent of smoke and ozone lingered in the atmosphere.

The Citadel’s walls were lined with steel, reinforced by layers of arcane energy that shimmered faintly in the dim light. The guards moved with practiced precision, leading Kael toward the entrance, where more officers awaited. As he was escorted through the gates, Kael’s eyes scanned the walls, taking in the sight of countless surveillance orbs and patrols. There was no doubt about it—this place was a fortress, designed to keep people like him contained.

They led him down a series of winding corridors, each one feeling more suffocating than the last. The air seemed to grow colder, the lights dimmer, as they descended deeper into the heart of the Citadel. Kael’s mind spun, trying to keep track of every turn and corridor, but it quickly became a maze of iron and darkness.

Finally, they reached a chamber with thick steel doors that slid open with a mechanical hiss. The guards pushed him forward, and he was met with the sight of another cold, sterile room—his new cell.

It was small and bare, the walls lined with reinforced metal and faintly humming with arcane wards. A single steel cot jutted out from one wall, and the air was thick with the scent of metal and disinfectant. Kael was shoved inside, and the doors slid shut behind him with a resounding clang.

For what felt like an eternity, Kael sat in silence, his thoughts a swirling mix of dread and confusion. He knew that this was only the beginning—that the Council wouldn’t stop until they had pried every secret from his mind. He steeled himself for what was to come, but even the steeliest resolve can erode under the weight of fear.

Days passed, or perhaps it was weeks. Time had no meaning in the Citadel’s depths. Each day brought new forms of torment, as the Council’s interrogators employed their methods to break him down. It wasn’t just the physical pain—though there was plenty of that. They alternated between cruel, strategic beatings and sessions where arcane devices were used to inflict carefully calibrated bursts of agony. But it was the psychological games that ate away at him.

They isolated him for what felt like days, then suddenly flooded him with blinding light and deafening noise. They deprived him of sleep, forcing him to stay awake with relentless, droning voices whispering words designed to unnerve him, to push him into a corner where even his thoughts were not safe. Kael tried to shut them out, but the words wormed their way into his mind, each one digging deeper than the last.

The questions were always the same.

“What is your creature?” “What powers does it possess?” “How did you deceive the system?”

But Kael said nothing. He kept his eyes forward, his lips pressed into a thin line, refusing to give them what they wanted. He knew that the moment he gave them even a sliver of information, they would tear the rest out of him like wolves on a wounded prey.

And then there was her—the woman who had helped him try to escape, who had been caught and imprisoned for aiding him.

She appeared sporadically, her face a rare and welcome sight among the cold, calculating expressions of the guards and interrogators. They kept her in a cell not far from his, and during the brief moments when their paths crossed, she would offer him words of encouragement, telling him to hold on, to stay strong.

“It’s not over yet,” she whispered to him one day, her voice low and urgent. “Don’t let them win.”

Kael found himself clinging to those words, using them as an anchor to keep his sanity intact. Despite the tortures he endured, despite the constant pressure to break, her presence gave him a sliver of hope—a reminder that he wasn’t completely alone.

At times, when the guards were distracted or away, they were able to exchange quiet words through the small openings in their cell doors. She introduced herself as Reyla, and over time, Kael learned fragments of her story—how she had once been a loyal officer of the Council, but had grown disillusioned with their methods, eventually turning against them in secret.

Reyla’s voice became a lifeline for Kael, her words a steady rhythm in the storm of his thoughts. She spoke of a future where they might escape, where they might find a way to bring down the Council’s grip on Draelith. Kael listened, his mind grasping for any hope, any plan, to keep himself from drowning in the darkness of the Citadel’s depths.

But each time they spoke, the torture only intensified. The interrogators seemed to know exactly when to push him harder, exactly when to isolate him or flood him with chaos. Kael couldn’t understand how they knew, but there was no denying their precision. It was as if they were dissecting his mind, piece by piece.

Harrow, in particular, was relentless. He would visit Kael regularly, his presence a dark cloud that suffocated any sense of safety Kael tried to build. Harrow’s voice was calm, almost friendly, as he spoke of Kael’s situation, his tone never betraying the sadistic edge that lurked beneath.

“You’re wasting your time, you know,” Harrow said one day, his voice almost sympathetic. “The Council’s patience is not infinite. If you continue to resist, the consequences will only worsen.”

Kael met his gaze with silent defiance, though his heart pounded in his chest. He had nothing to give them—no way to satisfy their endless questions without dooming himself and the Dreitailen. But Harrow was nothing if not persistent.

One day, they took Kael to a different room—a larger, more imposing chamber with walls lined with arcane symbols that seemed to pulse faintly with energy. Harrow was there, waiting, along with a group of Council mages and officers.

“We’re going to try a new approach today,” Harrow said, his tone casual. “We’ve found that sometimes, the mind needs a little extra… guidance.”

They forced Kael into the center of the chamber, where a circle of symbols had been etched into the floor. The mages began to chant, their voices rising in a steady, rhythmic pattern that made the air hum with energy.

Kael felt a pressure building in his mind, like a vice slowly tightening around his thoughts. He gritted his teeth, trying to resist, but the pressure only grew, relentless and unyielding. It felt like someone was sifting through his memories, searching for something, tearing through the barriers he had erected in his mind.

Images flashed before his eyes—fragments of his past, memories of the streets, of Eryn, of the Dreitailen’s shadowy form. The mages were trying to extract his secrets, to force the information from his mind without his consent.

But even as his thoughts threatened to unravel, even as the pressure built to a breaking point, Kael held on. He forced himself to focus on one thought, one truth that anchored him: he couldn’t let them win.

In the quiet hours between interrogations, Kael clung to the fleeting moments when he and Reyla could speak. Her words were a small mercy in the face of the Citadel’s brutality, a reminder that there was still a sliver of humanity left in this place.

“You’re stronger than they think,” she whispered one day, her voice barely audible through the narrow gap in her cell door. “They’re trying to break you because they fear what you can become.”

Kael didn’t know if he believed her, but her words gave him something to hold onto—a belief that there was still a part of him that the Council couldn’t touch.

Days, or perhaps weeks, passed in a haze of torment and fleeting moments of solace. Kael’s sense of time became tangled in a fog of pain and brief interludes where he was left alone to stew in his thoughts. He felt stripped down, like a rusted machine that had been taken apart piece by piece, its purpose slowly corroded.

The Citadel was relentless in its pursuit of his secrets. Every session left him feeling more disoriented, his defenses chipping away under the weight of exhaustion and doubt. They still didn’t know the name of his creature, and Kael knew that the Dreitailen’s existence remained a mystery to them—one of the few secrets he had managed to keep hidden. But how long could he hold onto it?

When Reyla appeared at his cell door during one of the few times he was left alone, her presence brought a mix of relief and wariness. She was his lifeline, yes, but the way her questions lingered around his soulbound creature made Kael cautious. He couldn’t afford to trust completely, not in this place.

“You look worse,” she whispered, leaning against the bars of his cell as she peered inside.

Kael lay on the steel cot, trying to steady his breathing. His muscles ached, and the lingering sensation of the mana suppression cuffs continued to make his thoughts feel dull and distant. He tried to manage a wry smile, but it came out as more of a grimace.

“Thanks,” he muttered. “Really needed to hear that.”

Reyla chuckled softly, but there was an edge of tension in her voice. “You’re holding up better than most. But you need to start thinking about your next move.”

“My next move?” Kael echoed, his voice strained. “There’s nowhere to go. Every door leads back to Harrow or his little group of mages.”

Reyla’s eyes softened with something like pity, and she crouched down so they were at eye level. “There’s always a way, Kael. But the more you resist, the more they’ll push you. They’ve already escalated their tactics. How long can you keep this up?”

Kael clenched his fists, feeling the cold bite of the cuffs digging into his skin. “I can’t let them find out about my creature,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “If they know what it is—if they find out its true nature—it’ll be over.”

Reyla leaned closer, her voice barely audible. “But what’s the alternative, Kael? You’re wearing yourself down to nothing. If you just give them something—just enough to satisfy their curiosity—they might ease up.”

Kael’s eyes narrowed, suspicion gnawing at him. “What do you mean by ‘give them something’? You want me to tell them about my creature?”

“No, not everything,” she replied quickly, her voice soothing. “But if you let them believe it’s just another rare creature, something less… threatening, they might stop focusing so much on you. They won’t see you as a risk.”

Kael shook his head, his frustration boiling over. “They’re not going to stop, Reyla. Not until they have everything.”

Reyla’s expression turned almost pleading, her eyes locking onto his. “I know you don’t trust them. I don’t either. But you have to think about the long game here. If you break completely, they’ll drag the truth out of you by force. But if you control the narrative, you might buy yourself more time.”

Kael felt a pang of doubt, her words burrowing into the cracks of his resolve. There was a strange logic to what she was saying—something that appealed to the part of him that craved control, even in the smallest measure. But he couldn’t afford to slip, not here, not now.

“Why do you care so much about what happens to me?” Kael asked, his voice rough.

Reyla’s face hardened slightly, but she held his gaze. “Because I’ve seen too many people broken by this place. I don’t want to watch it happen to you too.”

Kael wanted to believe her, to trust that there was someone in this place who wasn’t just another extension of the Council’s will. But something held him back—a nagging voice in the back of his mind that warned him not to trust too easily. He had survived this long by keeping his cards close to his chest, and he wasn’t going to throw that away now.

He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. “I can’t,” he said, his voice barely more than a breath. “I won’t give them what they want.”

Reyla sighed softly, disappointment flickering in her eyes. “You’re more stubborn than I thought,” she murmured, almost to herself. “But I suppose that’s what’s kept you alive.”

Before she could say anything else, the sound of heavy boots echoed down the corridor. Reyla’s face shifted instantly, her expression turning hard and unreadable. She gave Kael a brief, almost imperceptible nod, and then moved away from his cell, her footsteps silent as she disappeared into the shadows.

Moments later, the door at the end of the corridor slid open, and Harrow entered, flanked by two of his guards. Kael felt his stomach twist at the sight of them—Harrow’s presence was always accompanied by more pain, more questions, more calculated cruelty.

“Still holding out, I see,” Harrow said as he stopped in front of the cell, his voice dripping with mock admiration. “You’re a resilient one, Kael. I’ll give you that.”

Kael stayed silent, his eyes fixed on the floor. He refused to give Harrow the satisfaction of seeing him react.

Harrow chuckled softly, his tone almost affectionate. “You know, Kael, there’s a certain point where resilience becomes self-destruction. You could make this easier on yourself if you just… cooperated.”

Kael felt his muscles tense, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew where this was going.

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” Harrow continued, his voice turning cold. “What is your creature? What powers does it possess?”

Kael forced himself to look up, meeting Harrow’s gaze with a steely glare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Harrow’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something dark in his expression—something cold and calculating. “I see,” he said softly. “So, we’re still playing this game.”

He turned to the guards and nodded. They opened the cell door and stepped inside, their expressions hard and businesslike. Kael braced himself, knowing what was coming.

The guards grabbed him, dragging him out of the cell and into the corridor. Kael struggled, but the mana suppression cuffs left him feeling weak and disconnected, his movements sluggish and ineffective.

They led him down a series of twisting corridors, each one feeling more suffocating than the last. The walls were lined with arcane wards and security glyphs, their faint glow casting eerie shadows across the cold steel. The further they went, the more Kael felt the weight of the Citadel pressing down on him, its iron grip tightening with every step.

Eventually, they reached another chamber—larger and colder than the interrogation rooms he had been in before. The walls were lined with restraints and arcane devices, each one designed to inflict a different kind of pain. Kael felt his stomach churn at the sight of it all.

The guards forced him into the center of the room, securing him to a set of steel restraints that left him exposed and vulnerable. Kael’s heart pounded in his chest, his breaths coming in shallow, ragged gasps. He could feel the shadows pressing in around him, the Dreitailen’s presence a faint whisper at the edge of his consciousness.

Harrow approached, his smile returning. “You’re not going to like what comes next,” he said, his voice almost gentle. “But you’ve given us no choice.”

Kael gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay silent. He couldn’t afford to break now, not when he had come so far.

The mages entered the chamber, their expressions grim and focused. They began to chant, their voices rising in a rhythmic pattern that made the air hum with energy. Kael felt the pressure building in his mind, that familiar vice slowly tightening around his thoughts.

But this time, there was something different—something sharper, more invasive. It felt as if the mages were reaching deeper into his mind, their magic sifting through his memories with a precision that left him feeling exposed and raw.

Images flashed before his eyes—memories of the Dreitailen’s emergence, of the darkness that had coiled around him in the dungeon, of the creature’s cold, calculating gaze. Kael fought to keep those memories buried, to keep the mages from uncovering the truth, but the pressure only grew, relentless and unyielding.

Harrow’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding. “What is your creature’s name, Kael?”

Kael clenched his fists, his mind spiraling. He couldn’t let them know. He couldn’t let them see—

But before he could react, the pressure reached a breaking point, and something inside him snapped.

The next thing Kael knew, he was back in his cell, his body trembling with exhaustion and pain. He couldn’t remember how he had gotten there, or how long he had been unconscious. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, his memories fragmented and disjointed.

Reyla was there, her face pale and drawn as she looked at him through the bars of his cell. “Kael?” she whispered, her voice thick with worry. “Are you… are you alright?”

Kael took a shaky breath, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. He felt as if he had been torn apart and pieced back together wrong, his mind filled with jagged fragments of memories that didn’t quite fit. His head pounded, and every muscle ached with the lingering pain of the interrogation. But more than that, he felt empty—like a piece of himself had been ripped away.

“I’m fine,” he lied, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Reyla didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press the issue. Instead, she leaned closer to the bars, her voice low and urgent. “They’re pushing you too hard, Kael. You need to give them something—anything—to keep them from doing this again.”

Kael shook his head, wincing at the sharp pain that shot through his skull. “I can’t,” he muttered, his voice strained. “They’re trying to get inside my head. If I give them anything, they’ll dig deeper.”

Reyla’s eyes flashed with frustration. “But you’re breaking, Kael. Can’t you see that? You can’t keep holding out like this forever.”

Kael clenched his fists, fighting back the wave of anger and helplessness that threatened to overwhelm him. “I don’t have a choice,” he said through gritted teeth. “If they find out what my creature is, they’ll—”

“They’ll what?” Reyla interrupted, her voice sharp. “Kael, listen to me. If you don’t give them something, they’ll break you. It’s only a matter of time.”

Kael stared at her, feeling a growing sense of unease. There was something in her voice—something that felt off, like a note out of tune. But he couldn’t put his finger on it, not through the haze of exhaustion and pain clouding his mind.

“I can’t,” he repeated, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t give them what they want.”

Reyla sighed, her face hardening with something that almost looked like disappointment. “You’re too stubborn for your own good,” she muttered, almost to herself.

Before Kael could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the corridor. Reyla’s expression shifted instantly, her mask of calm slipping back into place. She straightened, stepping away from his cell just as the guards arrived.

They didn’t speak as they unlocked the cell door and pulled Kael to his feet, their grips firm and unyielding. Kael felt his stomach twist with dread, knowing what was coming. The interrogations were relentless, and he knew that each session would push him closer to the edge.

As they dragged him away, he caught one last glimpse of Reyla standing in front of her cell, her expression unreadable. There was something in her eyes—something that made Kael’s unease deepen. But before he could dwell on it, the door to the holding area slid shut, cutting off his view of her.

The days blurred together in a haze of pain and exhaustion. Each interrogation left Kael feeling more fractured, more disconnected from himself. The mages’ methods became more invasive, their magic probing deeper into his mind, searching for any trace of the Dreitailen’s secrets. And each time, Kael fought to keep those memories buried, to protect the creature that had become both his greatest weapon and his greatest curse.

But it was growing harder to resist. The pressure in his mind was constant, an ever-present reminder of the Council’s power and their determination to break him. Kael felt like he was losing himself, piece by piece, with each passing day.

Through it all, Reyla remained a constant presence. She continued to visit him whenever the guards were distracted, her words a fragile lifeline that kept him from completely losing hope. But even as she offered him comfort and encouragement, Kael couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

One night, as they spoke through the narrow gap in their cell doors, Kael finally voiced his doubts.

“Why do you care so much about what happens to me?” he asked, his voice rough with exhaustion.

Reyla was silent for a moment, her eyes searching his face. When she finally spoke, her voice was low and careful. “Because I know what it’s like to be trapped in this place,” she said softly. “I know what it’s like to be at their mercy, with no one to turn to.”

Kael frowned, suspicion gnawing at him. “But why risk helping me? You’re putting yourself in danger just by talking to me.”

Reyla hesitated, her expression unreadable. “I made a mistake once,” she said quietly. “I trusted the wrong people. I let them break me. I won’t let that happen to you.”

There was something in her voice—something raw and almost desperate—that made Kael want to believe her. But he couldn’t afford to trust so easily, not in a place like this.

He looked away, his thoughts a tangled mess of doubt and fear. “I don’t know if I can keep holding out,” he admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. “They’re pushing harder every day.”

Reyla leaned closer, her voice urgent. “Then you need to give them something, Kael. Just enough to keep them from pushing you to the breaking point.”

Kael shook his head, his fists clenching at his sides. “I can’t,” he said through gritted teeth. “If I give them anything, they’ll dig deeper.”

Reyla’s eyes flashed with frustration, but she didn’t press the issue. “Just… think about it,” she said quietly. “Before it’s too late.”

Before Kael could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the corridor once again. Reyla straightened, her mask slipping back into place as the guards arrived to drag Kael away for another session.

As they led him down the corridor, Kael couldn’t shake the growing sense of dread in his chest. Reyla’s words echoed in his mind, planting seeds of doubt that he couldn’t ignore. Was she truly trying to help him, or was there something more to her actions—something he couldn’t see through the haze of pain and exhaustion?

But before he could dwell on it, the door to the interrogation chamber loomed before him, and Kael steeled himself for what was to come.

Over the next few days, Kael felt the weight of the Citadel pressing down on him like never before. The interrogations grew more frequent, the questions more pointed and invasive. Harrow’s calm, almost friendly demeanor gave way to a darker, more intense focus, as if he could sense that Kael was reaching his breaking point.

One day, as Kael was being led back to his cell after yet another grueling session, he overheard a conversation between two guards.

“Have you heard about the Pit?” one guard muttered, his voice low and cautious. “They say no one who’s been thrown in there has ever come back.”

The other guard grunted in response. “Yeah, it’s where they send the ones who won’t talk. A death sentence, if you ask me.”

Kael’s stomach twisted with unease. He didn’t know what the Pit was, but the way the guards spoke of it sent a chill down his spine. He had a feeling that if the Council decided he wasn’t worth the effort, that would be his final destination.

But he couldn’t think about that now. He had to focus on surviving, on keeping the Dreitailen’s secrets safe.

As they reached his cell, Kael caught a glimpse of Reyla standing by her cell door, her expression solemn. She gave him a brief, almost sad smile before turning away, disappearing into the shadows.

Kael felt a pang of doubt, her words and actions replaying in his mind. There was something he was missing, some detail that didn’t quite fit. But he was too exhausted, too fractured, to put the pieces together.

For now, all he could do was wait and hope that he could hold out just a little longer.

Kael lay on the steel cot in his cell, staring up at the ceiling as his thoughts spiraled. The Citadel was an unending nightmare, a place where hope was a fleeting illusion and every day brought new horrors. He felt like a shadow of himself, worn down by the relentless torment and the constant pressure to give in.

But even as his resolve wavered, even as the shadows pressed in around him, Kael clung to the one thing that had kept him going all this time—the knowledge that he couldn’t let them win.

No matter what happened, he wouldn’t give the Council what they wanted. Not until his last breath.

He would hold on to that, even as the world crumbled around him.