The royal commander shoved Edward into the cell with a heavy push. The impact forced him forward, his boots scraping against the cold stone floor.

Edward barely resisted.

His attention was entirely fixed on the figure sitting quietly against the far wall.

"Aeris…"

It had been a while since he had last seen her. The memory surfaced unbidden—the day of his departure, when they had shared a rare, calm moment together. Quiet words, unspoken promises. A moment of peace that felt impossibly distant compared to their current situation.

The cell door slammed shut behind him with a metallic clang. Locks slid into place, one after another, echoing through the dungeon corridor. The commander lingered only a second longer before turning and leaving them alone.

Only then did Aeris move.

She rose quickly and crossed the short distance between them, wrapping her slender arms around Edward in a tight embrace, as if afraid he might disappear if she let go.

"Edward…" she whispered, her voice breaking.

He hesitated for a heartbeat before returning the embrace, one hand resting lightly against her back.

"What happened?" he asked quietly.

She inhaled shakily, pressing her forehead against his chest.

"Seraphine… she…" Aeris struggled to find the words. "I only left her for a moment. Just a moment. When I came back, Thyrion was lying there… dead. There was so much blood."

Edward didn't need to hear the tremor in her voice to know how deeply shaken she was. He could see it in the way her fingers clenched against his clothes, in the way her shoulders trembled as she spoke.

He wanted to protest.

Wanted to deny it outright—to say there was no way Seraphine could have done this.

But the images from outside the capital refused to fade. The torn armour. The bodies. The king's fury. And now Aeris—his closest companion, the person he trusted more than anyone else—was telling him the same story.

Slowly, painfully, he accepted it.

Even so, one question burned relentlessly in his mind.

"But how?" Edward asked, pulling back slightly to look at her. "How could she have done all of this? We both know she's nowhere near strong enough to slaughter half the capital on her own."

Aeris hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor.

"When I saw her… she didn't seem like herself," she said softly. "It was almost as if she didn't recognize me. Or anyone, for that matter."

She swallowed.

"And her eyes… there was something wrong about them. Empty. Cold. It felt as if she was being controlled."

Edward froze.

"Possessed?" he asked quietly.

Aeris nodded.

The word echoed in his mind, setting off a cascade of thoughts. He didn't know how, but instinct screamed that it was connected to Seraphine's pact mark—the one she had hidden, the one he had sensed but never fully understood.

Before he could speak again, another thought surfaced.

"But why are you locked up in here?" Edward asked. "With the chaos above, I'm sure you could've escaped."

Aeris let out a small, tired sigh.

"I overheard them talking," she explained. "They were looking for you. If I escaped, I would've wasted precious time trying to find you myself. This way…" She gestured around the cell. "I knew you'd return eventually. And when you did, they'd throw you in here."

Edward nodded slowly. It was exactly the kind of calculated decision she would make.

"What about Arthur?" he asked after a moment.

Aeris shook her head. "No idea. I haven't seen him since everything started."

With nothing more to say, the two of them sat down against the cold stone wall. Aeris leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder as the tension finally slipped from her composed exterior.

For a brief moment, the dungeon felt quiet.

Almost peaceful.

But the calm didn't last.

Less than a dozen minutes later, footsteps echoed from the far end of the corridor. Slow and deliberate.

Edward and Aeris both stiffened, rising to their feet as they exchanged a quick glance.

Are they moving the execution sooner? Edward wondered.

It seemed unlikely. A single day wouldn't change anything.

Fortunately, he didn't have to speculate for long.

Two figures emerged from the shadows.

The first was the commander of the royal guard—the same man who had thrown Edward into the cell.

The second made Edward's eyes widen.

"Your Majesty?" he asked as the elven king stepped into the dim torchlight.

The king's expression was complicated. Not the cold fury Edward had seen earlier, nor the calm authority of a ruler—but something conflicted, heavy with thought.

"I've spoken with Elarien," the king said at last. "She told me about the dwarven tunnels."

He paused.

"But more importantly, she told me about the key."

Aeris turned to Edward, confusion clear in her eyes. Neither of those things made sense to her.

Edward, however, felt his heart skip.

"You know about the key?" he asked.

The king nodded.

Without a word, he turned toward the commander. The man immediately stepped forward, unlocking the cell and swinging the door open.

The king entered the cell himself.

"This knowledge is passed down only through the royal family," the king said. "That is why even Elarien was unaware of it. Its origin dates back to the Great Calamity that struck our world two thousand years ago."

Edward glanced at Aeris. She seemed familiar with the term—everyone was taught about the Calamity in fragments—but Edward himself knew little beyond myths and vague histories.

The king didn't linger on the silence.

"When combined," he continued, "the three keys form a gateway. A bridge between our world and the Spirit World."

Edward's breath caught.

The king went on, revealing everything he knew—ancient pacts, sealed thresholds, the cost of opening such a passage, and the dangers that came with it.

As he spoke, Edward felt the pieces slowly falling into place.

And for the first time since his odd encounter with the shadowy figure in the cave, things began to finally make sense.

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