CHAPTER 15 – "ALKEOS"
The gate groaned open again.
Two figures stepped through—both wearing dark uniforms, both moving with the kind of precision that came from years of training. They weren't dressed like guards. They weren't dressed like anyone Kael had seen in Lumeria so far.
They were dressed like killers.
The scarred guard from earlier straightened immediately, her hand moving to her blade. "State your business."
The taller of the two—a woman with silver hair tied back in a tight braid—pulled a sealed document from her coat and handed it over without a word. Her expression was flat, unreadable.
The scarred guard examined the seal, then looked up. "Interrogation?"
"Prisoner transfer," the woman said. Her voice was cold, clipped. "We're taking him to the capital for questioning."
The scarred guard frowned. "Which prisoner?"
"Varen Aldros. Cell block two."
The guard nodded slowly, then glanced at her partner. "Any other teams coming through today?"
The silver-haired woman's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"Just asking. There was another interrogation team earlier. Went down to third level."
The woman exchanged a glance with her companion—a broad-shouldered man with a scar running down his jaw. He stepped forward, his voice low and sharp.
"What team?"
"Two men. Came through about twenty minutes ago. Said they were here for Alkeos."
The silver-haired woman's expression didn't change, but something shifted in her posture. "We're the only team scheduled today."
The scarred guard's hand tightened on her blade. "You're sure?"
"Positive."
Silence.
Then the scarred guard turned sharply and slammed her fist into a red button embedded in the stone wall beside the gate.
The alarm screamed to life—a harsh, echoing wail that tore through the corridors like a blade.
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Kael heard it first.
The sound was distant, muffled by layers of stone, but unmistakable. A high, piercing alarm that reverberated through the mountain.
The young guard's head snapped up. "What—"
He didn't finish. He bolted down the corridor, his boots echoing against the stone, shouting something Kael couldn't make out.
Kael and Theron were left standing alone in front of Alkeos's cell.
Theron exhaled slowly. "That's not good."
Kael's hand moved to the hilt of his sword beneath the cloak. "They know."
"They know."
Inside the cell, Alkeos lifted his head. He looked at Theron, then at Kael, and something close to resignation flickered across his face.
"You shouldn't have come," he said quietly.
Theron crouched down, his voice low but firm. "We came because we need you."
"You came because you're idiots." Alkeos pushed himself to his feet, his movements slow, deliberate. "You'll die here. Both of you."
"We're not dying here," Theron said. "And neither are you."
Alkeos stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head. "You don't understand. This place—" He gestured vaguely at the walls, the bars, the oppressive weight of the suppression field. "It's designed to kill people like us. You can't fight your way out."
"We're not planning to fight," Theron said. He glanced at Kael. "Not yet, anyway."
Kael stepped closer to the bars. "We didn't come here to leave without you."
Alkeos met his gaze, and for a moment, something unreadable passed between them. Then Alkeos looked away.
"You're wasting your time."
Theron stood, adjusting his glasses. "Maybe. But we're still getting you out."
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The alarm continued to wail.
Kael could hear voices now—distant, overlapping, growing louder. Guards were converging. The bluff was over.
Theron pulled the document pouch from his belt and tossed it aside. "Plan A's done."
Kael nodded. "Plan B?"
"Plan B."
Alkeos frowned. "What's Plan B?"
Theron looked at Kael. "Show him."
Kael hesitated for only a moment. Then he pulled the cloak aside and drew the black sword.
The moment the blade left its sheath, the air changed.
The suppression field was still there—thick, suffocating, pressing down on everything—but the sword cut through it like a knife through cloth. The weight didn't disappear, but it shifted, bending around the weapon, recoiling from its edge.
Alkeos's eyes widened. "What is that?"
"Something that doesn't care about suppression fields," Kael said.
He stepped forward and swung.
The blade struck the bars of the cell, and they didn't bend or break—they *dissolved*. The iron turned to black ash, crumbling away like burned paper. The suppression field around the cell flickered, wavered, then collapsed inward.
Alkeos staggered, his hand going to his chest. For the first time since they'd entered the cell, he looked fully awake. Fully alive.
"What did you just—"
"No time," Theron said. He grabbed Alkeos by the arm and pulled him forward. "Move."
Alkeos stumbled out of the cell, his legs unsteady after who knew how long locked in that cramped space. Kael sheathed the sword, the weight of the suppression field slamming back down the moment the blade was gone.
Theron steadied Alkeos, his voice sharp. "Can you fight?"
"I—" Alkeos flexed his hands, testing his strength. "Maybe. It's been a while."
"Good enough."
Footsteps echoed down the corridor—heavy, fast, growing closer.
Kael turned toward the sound, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "They're coming."
Theron positioned himself beside Alkeos, his eyes scanning the corridor. "Stay close. Don't do anything stupid."
Alkeos let out a breathless laugh. "You're telling *me* not to do anything stupid?"
"Yes."
The footsteps grew louder. Voices shouted commands, overlapping and urgent. Kael could see torchlight flickering at the far end of the corridor.
Then the guards appeared.
Six of them—armed, armored, weapons drawn. They stopped at the end of the corridor, forming a line across the passage. Behind them, more guards were gathering, filling the space.
One of them—a captain, judging by the markings on his armor—stepped forward, his blade leveled at Kael.
"Drop your weapons. Now."
Kael didn't move.
Theron raised his hands slowly. "We don't want to fight."
"You broke into the Royal Jail. You freed a prisoner of the crown." The captain's voice was cold, hard. "You're not leaving."
Kael's fingers tightened on the hilt of his sword.
Beside him, Alkeos straightened, his breathing steadying. He looked at the guards, then at Kael, then at Theron.
And for the first time, he smiled—faint, sharp, dangerous.
"Fine," he said quietly. "Let's see if I still remember how to do this."
The guards shifted, tightening their formation.
Kael drew his sword.
And at the end of the corridor, standing between the guards and freedom, a young man with dark hair and sharp eyes stepped forward, his presence cutting through the suppression field like a blade.
**Alkeos Lumerion**
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*End*