Kyle didn't move for a while after the cell door shut.
The inquisitor's voice still echoed in his ears, sharp and calm like a scalpel scraping along the bone. It wasn't just what the man had said—it was the way he moved, the cold precision in his words, as if he were reading from a script written by truth itself.
Kyle had played it safe. Careful. Vague enough to avoid contradiction, direct enough to seem sincere.
But he knew it wasn't over.
That was only the **first** round.
And there were **six** days left.
He let out a quiet exhale and leaned his head back against the wall.
The chains on his wrists groaned softly as he shifted. The skin beneath the cuffs had started to blister from the friction. He flexed his fingers gently, ignoring the sting.
*"This world doesn't play around."*
The sound of dripping water returned, louder in the silence. The torches burned low in their sconces. The guard who had stood outside the door during the questioning was now gone. Or asleep.
Kyle wasn't sure what time it was. He wasn't sure it even mattered anymore.
But his mind stayed awake.
He didn't know what would come next. But he **had** to know more.
About Kael.
About the people around him.
About the world itself.
He couldn't keep pretending to be a man he'd never met.
And that meant the first thing he needed… was information.
Real information. Not rumors. Not vague insults. Facts.
And there was only one person who might give him any.
"Talia," he whispered hoarsely.
The silence stretched on.
He didn't call again. No point yelling. The guards might hear him.
Instead, he closed his eyes and waited.
Minutes passed.
Then, finally—a soft sound. A shuffle of boots against stone.
He opened his eyes.
She was already there.
Talia stood in the shadows just beyond the bars, her hood drawn up once more. She didn't speak. Didn't nod. Just watched him quietly.
"You move like a ghost," Kyle muttered.
Her voice was calm as ever. "You called."
"I need to know," he said. "About him. The real Kael."
Talia stepped closer, still outside the bars.
"Why?"
Kyle stared at her. "Because I can't walk blind through this. I need to survive. I can't keep guessing at what he did or who he hurt. Eventually, someone's going to ask me something I can't fake. And if I get it wrong, I'm dead."
Talia was quiet for a long moment.
Then, slowly, she reached into her sleeve and pulled out a small object. A thin piece of carved wood, no bigger than her palm. She knelt and slipped it through the bars.
Kyle reached out with both hands and picked it up.
It was a sigil. The same one she had shown him before—the winged serpent around a sword.
But this time, it was etched into a lacquered medallion.
"What is this?"
"A token," she said. "For someone like you… a key."
"To what?"
She tilted her head. "To a memory."
Kyle looked at her, confused. But before he could speak, she began.
"Kael Vireon was born of the Third Consort, Lady Ilene, a woman of low rank but high favor. He was bright as a child. Charming, even. But the court didn't welcome him."
"Why not?"
"Because he wasn't supposed to exist," Talia said simply. "The first two princes were born of noble wives. Kael was born of a woman with no land, no bloodline, and no power. His very existence upset the balance."
Kyle frowned. "So he was... hated from birth."
"No. Not hated. **Feared.**"
Talia stepped closer to the bars, her voice dropping lower.
"He had a gift," she said. "One no one understood. He could see people's weaknesses. He would speak the right words to push them. Manipulate them. Twist them. He made enemies easily—but not because he wanted to."
Kyle leaned in, listening intently.
"He was never taught how to manage it," she continued. "No one guided him. His mother was exiled early. He was left to the wolves. And he became one."
Kyle looked down at the medallion in his hand.
"What about you?" he asked. "You said you served him."
"I did. I was his shadow for four years. I watched him grow cold. Proud. Reckless. But I also saw something else—he wanted to be more."
"Then why'd he try to kill his brother?"
Talia's silence returned.
This one lasted longer.
When she finally spoke, her voice was distant.
"That… I don't know."
Kyle narrowed his eyes. "You don't?"
"I wasn't there when it happened. No one was, except the Second Prince and the Empress. Kael was dragged out in chains, bloodied and broken. He didn't speak. Not one word. Just… stared ahead like a man already dead."
Kyle absorbed that.
So even **she** didn't know the truth.
But something about the way she told it—measured, calm, exact—felt solid.
"What was he like?" he asked. "I mean... before the betrayal?"
Talia crossed her arms, leaning against the wall.
"He was sharp. Calculating. Impatient. He laughed at things others feared. He insulted nobles to their faces and got away with it, because no one ever knew if he was joking or threatening them. He was a walking contradiction—charming and cruel, quiet and furious."
"Sounds like a disaster," Kyle muttered.
"More like a storm waiting to happen."
They fell into silence again.
Kyle ran his fingers over the wood medallion, feeling its edges. The carving was deep and precise. Not mass-made. This was personal. Valuable.
"Why give me this?" he asked.
Talia answered without hesitation. "Because it belonged to him."
Kyle's gaze snapped up.
"What?"
"It was Kael's. His most treasured possession. He kept it hidden from everyone. I found it once by accident. He nearly killed me for touching it."
Kyle's grip tightened on the token.
"Why would he carry something like this?"
"I don't know," Talia said softly. "But if you're carrying him now, even partially… maybe it will mean something to you. Eventually."
He stared down at it in silence.
Then asked, "Do you think… I'm still him? That some part of Kael is still inside this body?"
Talia didn't answer right away.
When she did, her voice was softer than before.
"I think you're not him. But I also think the body remembers."
She turned away and stepped into the shadows once more.
"You have five days left," she said. "Use them wisely."
Then she was gone.
The silence returned.
But Kyle didn't lie down.
He stayed seated, staring at the medallion in his hands.
And for the first time, he realized something strange.
**His hands weren't shaking anymore.**