Jasmine paced the small, dark cell, the rusted bars cold every time she brushed too close. Her heels click the stone floor. Micah leaned against the wall, arms crossed, face tight.
"This is my fault," he muttered, eyes down. "If I hadn't pushed you to come with me to the archive… we wouldn't even be here. We'd still be in the hall. Safe. I should've just… shut up. And Let it go."
"No, Micah. Don't do that." Jasmine stopped, turning to him. "I knew what we were walking into. I agreed to it. This was my choice too. If they're looking to blame someone, fine. Let them blame me."
Before either could say more, the sound of the heavy outer gate creaked open, echoing down the dungeon hallway. Footsteps followed. Slow. Confident.
They tensed.
Micah straightened up, already off the wall. Jasmine stepped back from the bars.
And then he appeared—Prince Draven.
Hair to the throne. Cold as hell.
He stopped right in front of their cell, hands behind his back, expression unreadable. His eyes flicked to Micah for half a second, then locked on Jasmine and stayed there.
Neither of them spoke. The silence stretched.
Then, finally, Draven's voice cut through. Low. Empty. Like he was asking about the weather.
"Tell me something I want to hear… and maybe I'll let you out."
Just like that.
No warmth. No promises. Just cold words from someone who could break them without blinking.
Jasmine didn't flinch.
She stared right back.
"We got nothing to give you, Prince Draven," Micah said, tone sharp, like he was trying to shut it all down before it even started. He didn't even try to hide the edge in his voice. Last thing he wanted was Jasmine anywhere near the prince. Nothing good ever came from messing with him.
Draven didn't even blink. Didn't look at Micah. It was like he wasn't even there just background noise.
He stepped in closer, right up to the bars. His midnight hair shifted as he moved, falling into his face, shadows hugging every sharp line. His eyes dark and hollow like a pit that never ends locked onto Jasmine like she was the only one in the world. Like he could see right through the front she was putting up.
Jasmine took a tiny step back before she could stop herself. Her chest felt tight. She hated that he got to her like that.
"Wh… what?" she asked, voice barely holding steady. She didn't like this. Didn't like him.
Why was he even here? What the hell could he want with her?
Something in her gut told her this wasn't gonna be good. Not even close.
Draven didn't answer right away. Just stared at her like he was reading something behind her eyes.
Then, finally, he spoke voice low, calm, like he had all the time in the world.
"There's something inside you. Something... I can't seem to get through, a wall? I want to know what it is."
Jasmine blinked. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Micah stepped forward, jaw tight. "She's got nothing, alright? Leave her alone."
Draven's eyes flicked to him for half a second just enough to send a clear message 'don't interrupt again'. Then he was back on Jasmine, like Micah never even spoke.
"You felt it, didn't you?" he asked, the presences of the crystal, the essence attached to it". something maybe a smirk, maybe just shadow pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Back in the archive. That pressure. That pull. Like something waking up inside you."
Jasmine's stomach dropped. Her breath caught, just for a second.
He was there, he had witness their presence there, he could testify for them, that they didn't do anything.
"…You were there?" she whispered.
Draven's eyes lit up just a flicker, but it was there. "Not far. I've been watching." he moved away from the bar.
Jasmine's hands curled into fists. "Why didn't you say anything? We were accused, why did you keep quiet?"
A flicker of amusement crossed his face when he saw how pissed she looked. Like her anger was some kinda joke to him. Then he tilted his head, raised a brow like he was saying 'and why the hell would I be your hero?'
She knew she'd walked into this mess on her own, yeah. She wasn't dumb. But that didn't mean he got to just stand there while they were locked up for something they didn't even do.
Draven stepped in a little closer, shadows sliding across his face. This time, his voice didn't have that usual cold bite. It was softer… almost curious.
"And why should I?"
Jasmine's eyes narrowed. Her jaw clenched so tight it hurt.
"Oh, I don't know," she snapped, stepping right up to the bars, close enough to meet him eye for eye. "Maybe 'cause we're not the enemy here. Maybe 'cause we didn't ask to get dragged into this mess. Or maybe…" she leaned in just a little, fire burning behind her eyes, "you're just scared of what I might be, scared of me right prince Draven?."
That wiped the smirk off his face. Just for a second.
Micah moved closer too, voice low but steady. "You think this is a game? You think screwing with people makes you powerful? Man, you're more pathetic than I thought."
Draven didn't move. Didn't flinch. But the look in his eyes changed got darker. Like a storm cloud just rolled in behind them.
"You've got no idea what you're tangled in," he said, his voice low and sharp now. "And if I don't get answers... this whole realm might burn before sunrise." He took a step back his face switching like he had not just laid a threat.
"The lock," Draven said, eyes sharp now. "The one on the archive door. How'd you open it?"
Jasmine blinked, her stomach dropping.
"I… I don't know," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "I thought the spell was broken or the lock was just old or something…"
She trailed off. Even she didn't believe that now.
Draven shook his head slowly, stepping back a bit from the bars.
"Even the Emperor needs a pass to get through there. And you? You walked in like it was nothing. Then boom disaster hits right after. You really think that sounds normal?"
Her breath caught.
Her heart started hammering in her chest.
He didn't say it.
But he didn't have to.
He thought she was connected to it. Maybe even caused it.
"No…" she muttered, shaking her head. "No, I didn't know any of this was gonna happen. We just… we were curious, that's all. It was just supposed to be a quick look."
She tried to laugh, but it came out shaky, broken. "I mean… people do believe in coincidences, right? Because if not, then I'm screwed."
Her hands were cold now.
If he really thought she was the reason for all of this… then her and Micah were already done for.
His took one step back, turned like he was done with them. "You are really something," he said without looking back.
And then he walked off, the sound of his boots fading into the cold, stone silence.
The tension in the hall was thick. The Emperor sat at the head of the table, his fingers tapping softly on the wooden surface. His chiefs, sitting around him, exchanged uneasy glances. The air was heavy with silence, like they all knew something big was coming.
Then the door creaked open.
Elandra walked in old, draped in tattered robes that barely touched the floor. Her eyes were milky white, but there was a sharpness behind them that made it clear she saw more than most people could ever dream of. Her presence was like a cold wind sweeping into the room.
The guards stood back, one of them gesturing for her to approach.
The Emperor didn't move. His face was unreadable as the seer shuffled closer, her footsteps slow and deliberate. She stopped just a few paces away from the table and lowered her head not out of shame though, maybe keeping her eyes from the people present, but not enough to hide the strange gleam in her eyes.
"You have been summoned, Eleandra" the Emperor said, his voice calm but edged with something darker. "Tell us what you see, have they been anything lately."
The old woman's lips twitched, barely a smile. Her head tilted, and she scanned the chiefs one by one, pausing only when she reached Lord Raymond, chief of Scorial Vale. He stiffened under her gaze.
"Of course my presence is only needed once things get out of hand" their was a slight chuckle to her voice as if mocking them.
She closed her eyes for a long moment, her hands trembling slightly, as if she were trying to connect with something far beyond the walls of the hall. A breath escaped her lips.
"I have nothing to offer you Thornegrave," she finally spoke, her voice raspy but powerful. "Nothing at all, you have bring this doom upon your self, it only right if you face it"
The room shifted. Lord Raymond furrowed his brow, leaning forward. "What do you doom?" He almost spat the word out, as if it was something he could never quite grasp.
Elandra opened her eyes then, locking them with his. "What you seek is already here, Lord Raymond," she whispered, her voice low enough to make his skin crawl. "The cracks in time are widening. And those who control it will find they cannot and will not control the storm that follows."
The chiefs shifted uncomfortably in their seats, their expressions darkening.
"What are you saying?" the Emperor demanded, his tone sharp now.
"The fabric of this world is weakening," she murmured, her voice rising just a fraction. "The door has been opened. It cannot be closed again without consequences... dire consequences."
A chill ran through the hall, and no one dared speak.
Elandra took a step back, her gaze drifting across the room. "I have seen the storm. I have seen the ashes of your realms. The darkness will swallow everything, all your secrets will be digged up and laid bare before you."
Her words hung in the air, heavy and impossible to ignore.
The Emperor's fingers stopped tapping the table. His gaze locked on Elandra, piercing and intense. "How do we stop it?"
She smiled a knowing smile. "You cannot stop it, Thornegrave. But you can choose how to face it."