"I am very disappointed in you, Marcelline."

  The voice was quiet. But it carried a weight that made the air in the throne room feel like lead.

  Emperor Cassian Valecourt sat on his throne, looking down at his daughter. He looked tired.

  "I appointed a talent for you. A rare, unpolished gem. I gave you the chance to recruit or control her. Yet you fumbled it. And caused such... an incident."

  Marcelline stood still. Her head was lowered, her eyes fixed on the polished marble floor.

  It was supposed to be a favor. A test.

  And she failed.

  Elira shouldered the blame publicly. The official report said the "peasant went mad." But everyone in the court, every noble house that lost an heir, knew the truth.

  The scene of that day replayed in her mind.

  The silence. The gore. The way Rovan's flesh exploded.

  Marcelline’s body trembled. She could still feel the phantom sensation of wet blood splashing on her face.

  The Emperor looked at his daughter shivering in fear. He sighed, rubbing his temple.

  "Go back to your room. Reflect on your incompetence. And pray that I find a use for you soon."

  "Yes... Father."

  Marcelline turned and walked away. Her steps were shaky. She walked slowly out of the massive doors, feeling the eyes of the guards burning into her back.

  The door thudded shut.

  The Emperor leaned back, massaging his forehead. He calculated the gold required to compensate the noble houses for their dead children.

  If it was any other child of his, he would have executed them already.

  Elira woke up.

  Cold.

  Wet.

  Silence.

  Only the sound of dripping water and the clinking of metal echoed in the dungeon.

  She picked up the heavy chain with her left hand. She let out a dry, rasping laugh.

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  "Ha... ha... h..."

  It hurt to laugh. Her throat was raw.

  Elira looked down at her hands.

  Thick, runic shackles locked her wrists. Similar ones bound her ankles. They were connected to heavy chains that led to the wall.

  Or at least, they were supposed to be.

  The bolts in the stone wall were twisted and ripped out.

  She had done that an hour ago. Or maybe a day ago. Time didn't exist here. She had tried to wrap the chains around her neck. She had tried to squeeze until the lights went out.

  But the monster wouldn't let her.

  Every time she got close to death, the shadows moved. They cushioned her throat. They loosened the chains.

  She slammed the shackle against the stone floor.

  Clang.

  The pain jolted up her arm. But Elira didn't flinch. She didn't react at all.

  "Anti-magic... my ass..."

  The guards said these shackles would suppress her core. They said she would be powerless.

  Yet, she could see them. The eyes opening in the cracks of the mossy stones. The small, black tentacles slithering in the corners of the cell. They were weaker now, suppressed by the iron, but they were still there.

  Watching her.

  Mocking her.

  Keeping her alive.

  She slumped back against the cold wall and stared into the darkness. Waiting for an executioner who was taking too long.

  Creak.

  The heavy iron door at the end of the hall groaned open. Light flooded into the corridor, blinding her for a second.

  The sound of footsteps echoed. Clean, rhythmic boot steps.

  A man walked up to Elira's cell.

  He was middle-aged, his mustache well-trimmed, his military uniform crisp and spotless. He ignored the stench of the dungeon.

  As he stopped in front of the bars, the shadows in Elira's cell hissed and dissolved. His mere presence, his own mana pressure, disintegrated the weak monsters instantly.

  He looked at the broken chains on the floor. Then at her.

  "I see you have been reflecting on your actions."

  "..."

  Elira sat still. No reaction.

  "Student Elira. You are guilty of the massacre of twenty-three students, one teacher, and the destruction of Imperial property."

  "..."

  "Unfortunately for you, death will not be your punishment."

  That gained him a reaction.

  Elira raised her head slightly. Her hollow eyes narrowed.

  "...Why?"

  Her voice was barely a whisper.

  "That is not for you to decide. You are a valuable asset. Damaged, yes. Unstable, certainly. But valuable."

  The man signaled the guards to unlock the cell door.

  "From now on, you will be working under me. You will pay back the loss you caused the Empire with your blood and service. Do not think you will reap any benefit from this. You are now a slave of the Empire. Your rights, your name, your future... they are gone."

  The gate swung open.

  Elira didn't move.

  "My advice for you, Elira," the man said, turning his back to walk away, expecting her to follow. "Listen to my commands. Stay in line. And do not think you are special."

  He paused, glancing back at the girl sitting in the dark.

  "You are not the only monster I have on my leash."

  "And you are certainly not the worst one."