Amidst a display of opulence stood a broad-shouldered man with silver-lined dark hair. He was wearing a burgundy silk gown with golden embroidery that crinkled gracefully on the red carpet underneath him. The wooden throne behind him did not match the wealth it was surrounded by, but it got the message across — this one thought himself a king, of what exactly, Kaelen did not know. Was the dark hole that housed this filthy, worn-down city his kingdom? Were the ragged-looking beings they had walked by his subjects?

Kaelen assumed he was meant to feel intimidated by this make-believe monarch in his gilded throne room, but it did the opposite. He felt rebellious, ready to pick a fight should the opportunity arise. He did, however, acknowledge that the guards to either side of the column-lined hall looked equally belligerent. Elara seemed to have noticed the same, and the frown on her face did not speak of confidence.

Pushed forward by their captors, they closed the distance to the dark-haired man and came to a halt at the foot of a shallow staircase. Looking down on them, the man spread his arms in a gesture of greeting that Kaelen knew was insincere.

"Welcome, esteemed guests," he exclaimed solemnly, showing his shark-like teeth. His eyes were beaming with excitement.

"Welcome to my humble abode." Keeping his arms up high, he turned left and right, hinting at the treasures to either side of his throne room.

"My name is Malvorn," he said ceremoniously, and lowered his hands.

The chandelier above his head was making his silver strands of hair glisten.

"I don't expect you to have heard of me," he continued, and his voice took on a darker tone. "Fateless like me are not something the Fateweavers chat about over tea." He spat the word out with deep-felt disgust.

"But let's not sully the mood right away," he added with a brief laugh that was as fake as the wares on the Cylion black market.

"I am the sovereign ruler of the underground and its people." Malvorn paused and gazed at them, his dark eyes like a bottomless pit.

"Long ago, your fellow Fateweavers dubbed us Fateless, somewhere in their topside tower of ivory. I always took issue with the negative connotation — it's not that we lack anything. On the contrary, we have more than all those poor souls on the surface. We have free will, we have hope. We are not bound by what some scribe recorded in a dusty book." His voice picked up in intensity, and Kaelen knew they would be past the pleasantries soon.

"But," he interrupted himself, "I forget myself. Where are my manners? Already rambling without even giving you the opportunity to introduce yourselves?" He chuckled menacingly.

"Indulge us, would you? Who do we have the pleasure of speaking with? Please!" It was more of an order than an offer.

Kaelen was determined not to do as he was asked. He also doubted it would even change the outcome of this encounter. But Elara still seemed to think the man could be reasoned with, just like she could solve math problems with logic. Kaelen sighed when his sister opened her mouth to speak.

"My name is Elara, and this is my brother, Kaelen."

Kaelen frowned. So now she was okay with using real names.

Malvorn seemed pleased with the response and focused on Elara.

"It is my pleasure to meet you," he said with a greasy voice. "Please, go on."

Elara gulped. "We were on our way to Cylion to visit our parents when we stopped in Tavira to pick up some fish for supper."

Kaelen appreciated the effort, but his sister was a notoriously bad liar. He could tell by the smug expression on Malvorn's face that he wasn't buying it either.

"When we left the market," Elara continued, her voice growing thinner, "we got assaulted by this man and his thugs."

She cautiously pointed at the supposed fisherman, Althor. He was standing a few feet behind them, exchanging amused glances with his men.

Malvorn sighed theatrically. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, my Dear. My man can be a bit … rough."

Kaelen could hear laughter behind him. He was getting tired of this charade. And besides, he was the only one allowed to make fun of his sister.

"What do you want from us?" it burst out of him.

Elara flinched, realizing that the diplomatic approach was out the window. Malvorn, however, did not even move a muscle. He turned his gaze to Kaelen and studied him for a long moment.

"Cutting right to the chase, are we?" He asked mockingly. "Very well, let's talk business."

He folded his hands in his sleeves and took a step in their direction, only emphasizing his high ground.

"When you were shopping, you were asking questions," he uttered. "Questions that could be considered foolish by some. Questions that can be dangerous to ask."

Malvorn lowered his head, covering his pale face in darkness. The smile was gone.

"You were asking about the Fateless, hm?"

Kaelen shrugged. "So what? We were just doing some research."

"Silly brats," the tall man snarled. "You are meddling in affairs that you can't even begin to comprehend. Do you think this is some kind of game? You don't know the first thing about the stakes at play here." He glared at them, then added: "But how could you?"

Kaelen could feel Elara inch closer towards him.

"But you got your answers, it would seem. You learned about the Fateless, who they are, and where they live. And you will learn about the price of asking foolish questions."

Fighting hard to keep his composure, Kaelen was determined not to just let Malvorn's accusations roll over him.

"Tell me, then, what are the stakes?" he growled, watching as the veins on Malvorn's thick neck surfaced.

"You think I would discuss any of that with the likes of you?" Malvorn bellowed. "You think you and your sister are of any importance in all of this? You are mere insects, caught in the cogwheels of a machine that started long before you were even born. You and your order of charlatans will go down, and when you hit the ground, you will hit it hard. We will make you pay for every year, every day, every minute, and every second you had us rot in this hellhole. But our punishment won't be anything compared to what's coming for you. Your entire order will burn, and so will your precious fate tomes. And the world will be better for it, without the likes of you enslaving everyone around you with ink and paper. Fate is done, and so are you."

When he finished, his mouth was salivating. Rage distorted his features, and his dark hair was beginning to look shaggy.

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"And what will make our revenge all the better," he continued with a menacing voice, "is the fact that your beloved Fateweavers don't even see their impending doom. Why else would they send someone this pathetic?"

He gave both of them an intense stare, full of hatred and disgust, but Kaelen held his gaze.

"Send? Why would we be sent?" he asked provocatively. As expected, it further fed into Malvorn's rage.

"Don't play with me, boy," he snapped and lifted his hand. "We all know why you are here. What I don't know is what the order tried to achieve by sending the likes of you. But since you won't live to tell the tale, I might even offer you a glimpse at what you tried to find with your pathetic quest."

He grinned fiendishly and nodded in the direction of a large wooden table a few feet away from him. While Elara seemed caught up with Malvorn's blatant threat, Kaelen scanned the cluttered tabletop until his eyes stumbled over what looked like a fate tome. His pulse quickened, and his breath got shallow. Could it be? Could he be this close to the tome he was sent to retrieve?

Malvorn read his expression, and he feasted on it.

"That's right," he said with a honeyed voice. "One of your precious fate tomes, so far away from home."

He walked over to the table and rested his strong hands on the back of the book. Kaelen flinched as his fingers made contact. It felt like their touch was desecrating the tome.

"Take your filthy hands off of it," Kaelen hissed, knowing his words were like cold drops on a searing pan.

Malvorn seemed amused.

"Oh, but I'm only getting started," he said with a wide smile, grabbing the tome with both hands.

"Isn't it ironic?" He asked without expecting an answer. "Your order created this abomination, kept it safe in its archives for so many years, only for it to turn into a tool in the hands of their adversaries."

Kaelen wanted to charge at Malvorn and tear the tome out of his bulky hands, but the guards had stepped forward and were blocking the path. Their polished polearms were refracting light from the chandeliers above, and stood in stark contrast to their dark blue robes. Kaelen could tell that they were wearing pieces of armor underneath their ceremonial attire. With his staff, he would have found their weak spots, but they had been stripped of all weapons the moment they were captured. And besides, it would've been two against twenty, not even counting Althor's men behind them.

"You didn't answer my question," Kaelen hissed through gritted teeth, "what do you want from us?"

Malvorn looked at him, then laughed loudly. The sound of his voice echoed through the room, growing louder and louder.

"From you?" He rebuked and put down the tome. "What could I possibly want from you? You are nothing but the first on a long list of Fateweavers I want to see crumble. I want to see your pain when you realize your lives are forfeit. I want you to know that it was I who spelled your doom, just like I will with every other member of your wretched order. Having you brought in front of me served as my entertainment, nothing more." He bared his teeth and slowly sat down on the throne behind him.

"You have fulfilled your purpose. And now, you can die."

Malvorn gestured dismissively with his left hand, like he was swatting a fly. Without hesitation, Althor followed the implied order, grabbing Kaelen and Elara with one firm hand each. When he pulled them through a side portal and out of the throne room, Kaelen could hear Malvorn laugh maniacally behind them. He knew there would've been no point in arguing, bargaining, or begging — clearly, the ruler of the Fateless had made up his mind long before they entered his lair.

Elara winced beside him, but Althor kept yanking on their arms. Their chains were rattling frantically, jangling as they were dragged across the rugged stone floor.

"Where are you taking us?" Elara demanded with growing panic in her voice, but Althor didn't respond.

Kaelen figured they were slated to be executed in some lower-level backroom, in an effort to keep Malvorn's pretty carpet clear of stains. His emotions were not what he would've expected. He felt surprisingly calm. He was taking in as much information as possible, observing the walls and torches as they passed by, examining his captors in search of a weakness — anything that could turn this seemingly hopeless situation around.

Althor had brought three other men as escorts, two of them Kaelen had already roughened up in their brawl in the streets of Tavira. They still showed bruises and scratches, and they were looking more than pleased at the prospect of revenge.

They walked down a long, winding staircase with narrow, well-trodden steps. The temperature was slowly dropping, and the rugged walls were soon covered in a wet film. They were well below the level of the throne room now, and the air felt damp and humid. Just when Kaelen was starting to feel dizzy from the endless spiraling staircase, the narrow walls opened up, and they were standing at the entrance to a natural cave, barely illuminated by dim lights on either side of the passageway.

"Move on," Althor grunted, and jammed his elbows in their backs. Elara winced and did as she was told. Althor grabbed a torch from the wall next to them and started shoving Kaelen along.

Scuffling over the uneven ground of the cave, they went deeper into the mountain, leaving Malvorn's palace and the underground city, whose name Kaelen didn't even know, way behind. They passed intersections to other branches of the cave system, all identical to the untrained eye, but Althor seemed to know his way around. Kaelen figured that this wasn't his first execution order.

The scarcely lit tunnel got narrower as they continued their silent march, and a foul stench soon filled the air. Kaelen wanted to cover his nose, but the tight chains wouldn't let him. He could tell Elara was close to gagging.

Eventually, the tunnel opened up into a large dripstone cave with a murky lake at the bottom, the other side of which was shrouded in darkness. Kaelen had always imagined underground lakes to be clear as crystal, with water so pure you could drink from it. But this water was different — it was hazy and all shades of brown and gray. He wondered why, but didn't get a chance to follow his thoughts to a conclusion, as the group came to an abrupt halt a few feet away from the motionless waterfront. The stench was almost unbearable now, and the thick air felt like poison in Kaelen's lungs.

"Alright," Althor said with a satisfied smile on his lips, seemingly unfazed by the foul odor.

"This is it. Time to meet your maker." He stepped in front of Kaelen and Elara, while the other two men moved in behind them. The light of his torch was now bathing the edge of the lake in bright light, and turned the brown into a shimmering crimson. Kaelen could feel his stomach turn, and Elara let out a choked scream, as they realized the water was stained deeply by clots of blood and other bodily fluids. This was no lake, it was a graveyard — or worse yet, it was a dumping ground for dead bodies.

Althor seemed to enjoy the horrified look on their faces, and he followed their gaze out into the darkness of the lake.

"Quite the sight, isn't it?" he murmured. "Still have no idea how deep it is. Figured, by now the bodies would be piling up to the ceiling, but it seems like there is still plenty of room in there."

He grinned, baring his teeth.

"But you will know how deep it is soon enough."

And with that, he swiftly pulled out his sword and moved closer to Elara.

"Ladies first," he sneered.

Kaelen's mind was racing now, the calmness from earlier long gone. He didn't spot any weakness in his opponents or their current situation, but time was running out. When Althor stepped towards Elara, Kaelen knew he only had mere moments left. And so he tried the only angle he could think of. With full force, he jammed his elbows backward, shoving the rusty iron chain against his sternum. He winced in pain, but so did the guard behind him when Kaelen's elbows compressed his lungs. The man wheezed and stumbled backwards, finally giving Kaelen some room to maneuver.

Althor and the other guard spun around to face him. They aimed their pointy weapons at him and started closing the distance. Still in pain, Kaelen could not think of any grand strategy, and so instead he tried to use the chain between his hands and feet as a whip. It was enough to make Althor and the other men hesitate. But Kaelen could tell this strategy wasn't going to hold them back for long, and that he was doing more damage to his own shins than to them.

Althor slowly lowered his sword and started laughing.

Then, he commanded the guard behind Elara to contain Kaelen, while he grabbed Elara by the neck and forced her to kneel.

The guard charged at Kaelen and grabbed his torso with arms wide open. With his feet tied up, Kaelen couldn't keep his balance, and so he slammed into the ground, the full weight of the guard on top of him.

He could feel pain all over his body, and his motor functions were failing. The guard scrambled to get up, only to press Kaelen's face into the ground with his palm. Kaelen could feel pebbles dig into his cheek, and the taste of dirt and blood filled his mouth. He couldn't even tell if it was his own blood or whether one of the dark stains underneath him was still fresh from some other poor soul.

With his one eye, he could see tears streaming down Elara's face, with Althor looming over her. The man was grinning menacingly when his gaze met Kaelen's.

"Play time is over," he snorted, and brought his blade close to Elara's throat.

"Kaelen!" his sister screamed, but there was nothing he could do. Unable to move, he could only cry out in horror with what little air was left in his lungs.

Then, he saw the muscles in Althor's arm tense, and he knew the moment had come. Kaelen pressed his eyes shut with all his remaining energy.

Through the palm of the guard on top of him, he could hear the muffled sound of torn flesh and pooling blood, and he could feel the vibration of a body collapsing to the ground — then, there was a brief gurgling, followed by mind-numbing silence.

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