There was no telling how much time had passed since they'd been tossed into the darkness of their prison cell. There was no light to judge the cycle of night and day, there were no animals one could listen to for clues — only the occasional distant scream, muffled through the thick metal door that marked their confinement.

Every now and then, when the darkness seemed never-ending, the hatch would slide open with a bang, and a few dry pieces of bread were flung into the room, along with a leaky water skin. The hatch would shut again, and they had to scramble in the dark to find their rations before they got soaked in filthy puddles on the cold stone floor.

They didn't talk much. The mental torture weighed even heavier than the physical one, at least for Kaelen. And so they chose to preserve their energy and only speak when necessary, which wasn't often. In the beginning, they'd tried to piece together the turns of events that had led them here, but no matter how one looked at it, they'd failed. And worse yet, they had become the victims.

Kaelen tried hard not to be too vexed at his own naivety — after all, he had been the one ignorant enough to think that he could defy fate and save the king. In hindsight, he thought himself a proper fool, and he felt ashamed for dragging the others down with him. And to make matters worse, their own father had pushed them over the edge.

He wondered if he could've seen it coming. He thought he knew how low his father could sink, but apparently, there were even darker layers to his cruel and heartless personality, ones that had been lying in ambush until now. His desire for power had finally reached its apex — or so Kaelen thought. After all, the throne of Cylion marked the highest ceiling one could possibly reach. And yet, the thought that this nightmare was only just starting sent shivers down his aching spine.

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On what Kaelen assumed to be the third day of their captivity, the dark dreariness was finally broken. Unexpectedly, the metal door was yanked open, flooding the room with blazing light that burned in their watering eyes like ocean salt. Blinded and disoriented, Kaelen tried to shield his face with his forearms, blinking frantically in an attempt to understand what was happening. His hazy gaze met Elara, who was cowering against the wall across from him, her head covered in her sleeves, her hair scraggly and uncombed. A few feet away from her sat Nyu, stoically staring at the floor, eyes narrowed, massaging her knuckles like they were ready to punch someone.

Kaelen tried to make out who had opened the door, but he could only see an ocean of glistening white and orange, and so he heard their visitor before he saw them.

"What a disgrace," Vaelorian's voice cut through the foul air.

A rush of heat shot through Kaelen's veins, giving his tired body newfound energy. He lowered his arms and stared into the light, ignoring the burning in his eyes until his vision was filled with colorful sparkles. Finally, his eyes adjusted to the brightness, and he could see the tall shape of his father, who'd apparently come to gloat.

"You —" Kaelen started, trying to hurl an insult into the light, but his weak voice cracked and gave in.

Vaelorian scoffed and shook his outlined head.

"You better save your energy, boy."

Kaelen took a deep breath, giving his vocal cords time to stabilize.

"We should've let Nyu kill you when we had the chance," he whispered, just loud enough for their father to hear.

"Still lacking proper manners, I see," Vaelorian snarled and gestured dismissively. "When I sent you off to become a Fateweaver, I thought they'd finally teach you some respect. That they would take the ungrateful boy and turn him into something useful. Or at least, I hoped we would finally be rid of you. Yet, here you are."

Kaelen shivered from the inside, like a cold hand had gripped his soul.

"Why?" he breathed. "Why all this? I get that your black heart is soaked in lust for power, but why keep us here?"

Vaelorian chuckled. "You still don't get it, do you?" he asked with a snide smile on his lips.

"Then why don't you tell me, Father?" he spat out the last word like a piece of cartilage.

"Eventually," Vaelorian sneered, "but not yet. We still have to wait a little longer. And it would appear that your presence here might still be of great use to me."

"Wait for what?" Elara asked, her voice wary.

Vaelorian gazed at her with a mixture of pity and contempt, his dark hair glowing in the flickering light of the torches behind him.

"For our guests to arrive, of course." He casually gestured with his slender hands.

"And by my accounts, it should not take them much longer. After all, they've been waiting for such a long time."

Kaelen opened his mouth, then closed it again. Was his father implying what he thought he was? His mind went into overdrive, his pulse quickening until he could see its raging beat at the edge of his vision.

"What guests?" he asked between gritted teeth.

A sardonic smile split Vaelorian's lips, and his cruel eyes were beaming with grim satisfaction.

"Why, our friends, the Fateless, of course."

His words echoed through the room and lingered in the damp air, making it even less breathable. Kaelen and Elara exchanged harrowed glances, while Nyu pushed herself off the ground and shakingly came to a stand, fists clenched.

"I'm sure this one," Vaelorian continued unfazed and pointed at Nyu, "can't wait to see her peers again."

"Have you lost your mind?" Kaelen blurted, trying to reach for the staff that was lying off to the side.

"On the contrary," his father said mockingly. "I have more foresight than most. More even than Malvorn."

Kaelen never liked hearing the name of the Fateless' leader, but hearing it from the mouth of his father was even worse. He couldn't wrap his head around the two of them being in league, and yet at the same time, it made perfect sense — both of them were filled with biting ambition, willing to sacrifice anything and anyone standing in their way. Of course, it also explained why Vaelorian was blaming the Fateweavers for everything that had happened, despite being fully aware that they had only tried to help — they were his enemies, and not just in the role of disappointing children, but as members of their order.

If their father had allied with Malvorn, he was intent on taking down all Fateweavers, or at least content with sacrificing them on the way to whatever goals he had, the first of which clearly being the reign over Cylion. And yet, it didn't quite add up. Malvorn wanted to rule as king of Cylion, that much Kaelen knew from when they'd been eavesdropping on his evil plans. So it would appear that his father's plans and those of the Fateless' leader didn't fully align. It was a piece of the puzzle he didn't quite understand, at least not yet.

"So you are telling us you've sunk low enough to ally with a Fateless who wants to lay waste to everything we cherish?"

"Oh, the dramatic youth," he muttered and chuckled snobbishly. "Besides, what you cherish and what I cherish are some very different affairs."

"He wants to kill or enslave everyone in Cylion out of spite."

"Does he now?" Vaelorian sneered. "Well, we will see about that. I think neither diplomacy nor warfare is your strong suit, so maybe you leave that to the adults."

Kaelen clenched his fists.

"Are you so reckless for power that you are willing to sacrifice everything?"

Their eyes met, and Kaelen could see the void in Vaelorian's eyes.

"What is there but power?" their father rasped into the quiet of their prison cell.

He let his words be felt and seemed to enjoy the somber silence that followed.

"Why did you come here?" Elara asked after a moment.

Vaelorian's face took on a condescending expression.

"Oh," he said overly casually, "I just wanted to make sure you are still alive for when I have need of you."

"What need would that be?" Kaelen snared.

Vaelorian showed his rows of pearl-white teeth. "Curiosity got you here, and curiosity will be the end of you."

"And greed will be yours," Elara whispered quietly but with a voice as firm as the stone surrounding them.

Vaelorian seemed surprised for only a split second, but his skinny face soon assumed a mocking expression again.

"What a shame it had to come this far for you to find your courage, dear Gwynelara. You were always so spineless, so unbecoming of a true leader. I had feared those qualities were truly lost in the ordinary blood that flows through your veins. Maybe there is hope for you yet, or would've been. Alas, it's a bit late for that now."

He folded his hands and laughed a cruel laugh. All the while, Kaelen had been biting his lips so furiously he was starting to taste blood in his clenched mouth. He could see from the corner of his eyes that Nyu was reaching into her jacket — by now, he knew what that meant. Trying to be inconspicuous, he shifted his weight and grabbed his staff, ready to gather his remaining energy to leap at his father in an attempt to cause as much damage to his smug face as possible.

Without warning, Nyu let out a fierce cry of pent-up rage and charged at the door, a dagger in her raised hand, Kaelen following suit with as much ferocity as he could muster. Their father, however, had been anticipating their move — he gracefully stepped back and nodded to the side, and immediately after, the door was slammed shut by invisible hands, most likely the guards' that had been waiting next to the entry.

Kaelen forced himself to stop, but Nyu rammed her muscular shoulder into the door, making it rattle and shriek in its hinges. At last, however, it didn't budge, and they were surrounded by darkness once more.

Seconds later, the hatch slid open, and they could see their father's evil eyes. Kaelen wondered if Nyu would jam her knife right through the narrow opening, burrowing it deep into Vaelorian's skull and brain. Maybe Nyu was thinking the same, or maybe she was still trying to recover from the shockwave that had been sent through her arm and shoulder, but either way, she didn't move.

"Ever so predictable," Vaelorian sneered behind the door, his voice distant and distorted.

"I hope you will show more decorum when our guests get here."

And with that, he closed the hatch. They could hear his hasty footsteps as he left, accompanied by the sound of heavy boots. Then, there was quiet, uncomfortable and somber.

Nyu was the first to break the silence.

"I guess that answers that question."

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"Which one would that be?" Kaelen growled and sat down with a thud.

"Vaelorian killed Montis to fulfill Malvorn's plan."

Kaelen grunted. "It doesn't add up. Not quite."

"You heard him," Nyu insisted, the source of her voice moving slowly through the room.

Kaelen wanted to give in to this seemingly easy explanation, but part of his mind kept resisting. Or maybe he just didn't want to accept the implications, having read more of the fate tomb than the others knew. Would their father be the destroyer of the Fateweavers? The thought was hard to stomach, but it sure matched the man's recent sentiments. But then there were the little things that didn't add up, like the simplicity of the fate tomb — surely, their father would have had the most ostentatious of fate tombs, clad in pure gold and richly decorated, as befitted his lineage.

"I just feel like it doesn't make sense," Kaelen murmured and loosened the tight grip around his staff.

The wood gently clanked as it hit the floor.

"Maybe, maybe not," Elara whispered from somewhere across the room, her voice fragile and laced with exhaustion. "He sure has the means and the unscrupulousness."

"In any case, it explains how Malvorn came to such wealth," Nyu theorized, and the thought made Kaelen shiver.

"That would mean they've been allied for years, if not decades," he muttered, and the words loomed over their heads like storm clouds.

The silence that followed was heavy and glum, only broken by the sound of Nyu's feet brushing against the stone floor as she tried to detect obstacles or tripping hazards on her way through the room.

"But what would our father get out of this deal?" Kaelen asked stubbornly. "He finances Malvorn's plan, then he takes out the king of Cylion. What does he get in return? Why does he need Malvorn?"

He could tell the other two were brooding over the question, trying to come up with a logical explanation. Just as he had expected, they didn't find one.

Kaelen sighed. "We have to get back to the Great Library," he whispered into the silence. "We need to speak with Master Zerath or the Elder. They might be able to make sense of this mess."

He could hear Nyu scoff in the distance. "Great plan — what are we waiting for?"

Her words still hang in the air, when they could hear noise from outside their cell. This time, it didn't stem from heavy boots, but instead marked whispered voices, barely audible through the thick metal gate. Then, there was a singular shout of pain, followed by the dull sound of something heavy hitting the stone floor.

The hatch slid open, and a pair of ice-blue eyes appeared in its wake.

"They are here," a woman hissed with relief.

Seconds later, the door was yanked open once more. Again, they were blinded by glistening light, but this time their eyes were better prepared. When Kaelen's vision cleared through a film of watery haze, he saw two figures standing in the doorway, one tall and muscular, one slender and delicate. They both wore capes with deep hoods, exposing only parts of their serious faces, but tossed them back when they saw the three prisoners.

Framed by beaming light, Kaelen recognized Rhea, the late king's right hand, her blonde hair glowing like wheat crops in the sun, her eyes radiating like pure sapphires. Next to her stood Beon, Montis' military advisor and personal protector, his face gray and grim, his hair and beard even shaggier than the day Kaelen had first seen him in the council chamber. This time, however, his intimidating stare also carried grief and sorrow, most likely a result of his failed quest to keep the king safe and unharmed.

Rhea's gaze went from Kaelen to Elara, then to Nyu, where it rested just a little longer.

"My, my," she finally said to all three of them, taking in their pitiful accommodations. "Who knew Vaelorian could sink any lower?"

"We don't have time for this," Beon grunted next to her, looking over his shoulder.

Kaelen noticed the boot of a soldier protruding into view just behind the tall man and off to the side of the door. He figured they had knocked the guard unconscious, or worse.

Rhea nodded and gestured at them.

"Quick, we have to get you out of here!"

Kaelen and Elara exchanged puzzled gazes, while Nyu's eyes narrowed skeptically.

"Oh, come on now," Rhea urged, "You of all people should know how I feel about your father. And I can see perfectly well how he feels about you, which makes us allies. You can thank me later."

Reluctantly, they got up from the cold floor and gazed at the two visitors in front of them. It was hard to believe that these people they had only met once, would go through this much trouble to break them out of prison, but the incapacitated guard on the floor was a compelling argument. Besides, it couldn't get much worse — if this was a trap, and they ended up in captivity again, there was not much they could lose.

Kaelen nodded at Nyu, signaling her that they should trust the newcomers. She hesitated briefly, then relaxed and pushed herself off the wall. Kaelen grabbed his staff and was the first to step out of the cell, the other two close behind him. Beon grunted as he approached, like an agitated cave bear, but ultimately stepped aside and let them pass. Next to him lay the guard, his head awkwardly bent to the side, arms twisted and limp, with a puddle of blood pooling under his neck.

"Follow me," Rhea whispered, and tossed the wide hood of her cape over her head, only leaving her thin lips exposed.

She crossed the room with a purposeful stride, then started climbing the steep staircase across from their cell, taking two steps at a time. Beon signaled the three of them to hurry up, then fell in line behind them as a rearguard, scanning the room one more time before following them up into ominous darkness.

It occurred to Kaelen now that the staircase he'd noticed the first time around must've been a passageway to the palace, which had to be close by if his sense of direction didn't deceive him. It also explained how Vaelorian had gotten here — surely, the self-proclaimed ruler of Cylion would've never disgraced himself by walking through the rows of filthy prisoners in the common cell blocks.

At the top of the dark staircase, they were met with a simple wooden door, which Rhea gracefully pushed open with her extended hand. The jangling of her bracelets and the squeaking of the rusty hinges filled the air, followed by the sounds of their hasty footsteps as they scurried through the opening. They entered a wide room with a low ceiling and stacked crates and barrels along the walls, and two unconscious guards lying on the cold floor to both sides of the door. Rhea marched past them without even looking down, then led the group to another set of doors across the room. The one she picked had them hurry down a long hallway with rows of spitting torches, casting nervous shadows onto watchful armor statues. Their hollow eye slits tracked the unusual group as they made their way past countless locked doors until they reached the end of the dim corridor. They entered a small chamber full of loaded shelves that touched the ceiling, carrying bast fiber baskets and flasks with colorful contents. Large rolls of woven fabric were leaning against the smooth stone walls, and a dusty weaving loom stood off to the side, half taken by darkness.

Rhea stopped in the middle of the room and turned around.

"You two should change your clothes." She gestured at Kaelen and Elara and let her ice-blue eyes run down their filthy robes.

"I'm afraid Fateweaver orange is rather out of season," she added with a bitter smile.

Kaelen and Elara exchanged unsure glances. For most of their lives, they'd been wearing the colors of their order, so much so that it became part of their personalities. They were more than just clothes — they were the fabric of their identities. And yet, they knew Rhea was right. Guards would flock to them the moment they showed themselves as members of the once great order that had now fallen from grace, at least in the eyes of the new ruler of Cylion and his pawns.

They did as Rhea requested and swapped into a pair of stashed gray robes she pulled out of one of the baskets on the shelves. They were heavy and scratchy, but they would serve their purpose. When Kaelen transferred the fate tome from his Fateweaver robes to the one he would wear as a disguise, he made sure to turn his back on Beon and Rhea, just in case they got any unexpected ideas. Touching the leather-clad book always sent shivers down his spine, like its evil content was oozing out of the yellowed pages and onto his careful fingers.

Once more, he wondered if they'd done the right thing by not destroying the tome when they first read it. In light of recent events, the answer seemed clear to him, but now the damage had been done.

"Why are you helping us?" Elara asked cautiously, after Rhea made an effort to hide their old clothes where no one would find them.

The tall woman looked at them with pitiful eyes.

"The Fateweavers have always been trustworthy allies to us," she whispered in her soft voice. "They stood by our side for longer than any of us have been alive — what Vaelorian is planning is a disgrace to all of us."

"You know that he is in league with Malvorn?" Kaelen asked grimly.

Rhea sighed. "I figured as much. After the king died —"

"How did the king die?" Nyu interrupted.

Rhea studied her for a moment, then glanced at Beon. "Do you want to tell them?"

Beon was standing next to the door they had come in through, his head low and his hand on the handle of his sword. He grunted at the question with apparent displeasure.

"We don't have time for chit-chat," he rasped.

"And we don't have time for more lies," Nyu shot back.

Beon's eyes met hers, then he nodded in acknowledgement of a fellow warrior.

"The king died in his sleep," he murmured reluctantly. "I was standing watch, like I always do, until I heard a commotion in his chamber around midnight. When I rushed inside to see if everything was alright, the damage had already been done. I was too late." His voice started to crack, which didn't fit his tough appearance.

"The assassin came in through one of the windows. After your warning, we had stationed guards on the roof, watching over all windows leading into Montis' chambers, but one after the other, they were dispatched like wounded deer, struck down by this criminal being."

A flicker of primal rage crossed Beon's haggard face until sorrow and regret crept up on him once more.

"As if to mock us," he growled with a voice as heavy as boulders, "the killer took a sword off of one of my fallen men and buried it deep in the king's chest, all the way to his spine. The king must've been asleep, unassuming and unprepared." He shook his head. "What an undignified way to die."

"Did you see the assassin?" Kaelen asked, trying not to sound insensitive.

"In the dim light, I only saw a shadow escape through the open window and into the darkness of the night, like a specter of death. Their movement was fast and precise, as if killing was their sole purpose. I couldn't chase them, because … Montis, well …" He gestured helplessly with his hands, and Rhea patted him on his broad shoulder.

"We will get our revenge," she whispered with a voice as sharp as an icicle. "We will bide our time, and we will strike back."

"So then it wasn't Vaelorian?" Elara asked pensively. It was more of a statement than a question.

Rhea let out a dry laugh. "Vaelorian? Hardly. The man is sly, but he is not known to be nimble. Besides, I doubt he would get his manicured hands dirty." Kaelen and Elara exchanged uncomfortable glances, then looked at Nyu, who shrugged as if to say, "We don't know for sure".

"I'm sure it was someone working for him, though," Rhea mused. "God knows the man pays well."

Beon cleared his throat and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his robe.

"Enough of this," he barked with a voice used to giving orders, "we need to leave — now."

Rhea nodded and gave Kaelen a fierce look.

"We will take you outside the city walls — from there, you will have to find your own way."

"That won't be a problem," he responded quickly. "We will make our way to the Great Library to talk to our leaders."

"You'd best do that. I informed them about what happened, but I had little time to give any details. Sending that letter was already difficult then — I would assume that by now they are monitoring all messages leaving the city."

Her eyes took on a grim expression as her head sank deeper into the hood of her dark robes.

"What will you do?" Elara asked into the brief silence that followed. Her question was directed at Nyu, and Kaelen could see that she'd been expecting it.

The orange-haired woman looked at her bruised hands, then at Elara.

"I think past events have shown that you guys wouldn't get far without me." She cracked a bitter smile. "Besides, sounds like going home isn't really an option for me right now, not with Malvorn about to march out of that cave, taking the whole of the Fateless with him."

Kaelen could see a smile flicker across Elara's lips, and he could feel relief ripple through his own tense muscles.

"Do you think your family will be among them?" he asked carefully.

Nyu shrugged. "My Mom? Surely not. Senya? Well … I hope she kept her wits and is staying as far away from this brewing storm as possible."

"I'm glad you'll come with us," Kaelen said, and he knew he spoke for both of them.

Nyu had quickly turned into a great ally, and more.

"You will need all the help you can get," Rhea commented and nodded approvingly.

"Great," Beon growled impatiently. "Now that we're all happy, let's go."

They left through a small door hidden between a pair of tall shelves, leading them straight into a small alley at the back of the palace, usually frequented by servants and workers of the royal residence. The night air felt crisp and fresh on their tarnished skins, and they filled their lungs with the sweet scent of freedom. Above them loomed a clear dark sky with a crescent moon, like a shining sickle about to harvest the sprinkled field of stars. They could hear dogs bark in the distance, and the familiar noise sounded like music to their tender ears.

After a collective sigh of relief, they followed Beon and Rhea through the familiar maze of streets and alleys, carefully avoiding patrolling guards that crept through the streets in alarming numbers. More than once did they come close to being detected, did Beon almost draw his sword for a fatal blow, but Rhea's calm and collected guidance kept them safe and unnoticed.

Eventually, they reached the city wall, and with it an old guard tower with a decaying roof of orange shingles. Rhea produced a small key from the depths of her robe and quickly unlocked the door, then signaled them to emerge from their cover of darkness and cross the street. Once inside, they were led down a hatch with a fragile wooden ladder that ended in a narrow tunnel dug out with rusty shovels that lay off to the side of petrified beams that sought to stabilize it.

At the bottom of the ladder, Beon and Rhea stopped and tossed back their hoods one final time.

"This is where we part ways," Rhea said quietly. "The tunnel will lead you into the woods, where the guards on the wall can't spot you. Be fast, don't linger. The enemy is coming for all of us."

The trio exchanged weary glances.

"What will you do now?" Kaelen asked.

A sly smile tugged at Rhea's lips. "We will learn to work in the shadows. We will bide our time, and eventually, we will strike back."

After a moment, she added, "I have many friends who will be rather interested in what has happened here. Maybe it's time to pay them a visit."

Her words left Kaelen with many questions, but he knew it wasn't the time to ask them.

"Thanks for helping us," he whispered.

Their two saviors nodded courteously, then sent them off into the darkness of the tunnel and to an uncertain future.

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