The Citadel did not welcome monsters.
Caspian learned that the moment he stepped out of the forest.
White marble walls rose before him, impossibly tall and pristine. Wide gates stood open, guarded by rows of soldiers clad in polished armor, banners of gold and white snapping in the breeze.
It was beautiful.
And it burned his eyes.
Caspian slowed his steps, forcing his posture to relax, forcing his claws to retract as much as this body allowed. He lowered his head slightly, trying—clumsily—to appear harmless.
It didn't matter.
He didn't even reach the outer road.
A sharp shout rang out from the walls.
"Stop!"
Caspian froze.
The guards' hands were already on their weapons. Spears tilted. Bows were drawn. Faces twisted in alarm and disgust.
Then he understood.
The smell.
Blood clung to him like a curse. Old blood. Fresh blood. Human blood, animal blood, soaked deep into his skin, his clothes, his very being. To him it was background noise. To them, it was a scream.
Caspian tried to speak, but he was interrupted even before the first word came out.
A presence slammed into his senses from behind—fast, sharp, overwhelming. A heart beating like a war drum, surging with strength far beyond any normal human.
Too fast.
Too close.
Caspian tried to turn—
Pain exploded at the back of his skull.
The world shiftedinto darkness.
Cold.
That was the first thing he felt.
Cold marble pressed against his cheek, seeping through his skin. Caspian groaned softly, claws scraping weakly as he tried to move.
Chains rattled.
He forced his eyes open.
Light flooded in.
He lay at the center of a vast hall, its ceiling was high. Pillars of white marble lined the walls, carved with scenes of battles and heroes. Sunlight poured through tall stained-glass windows, casting golden patterns across the floor.
A throne stood at the far end.
Upon it sat a young man clad in golden armor.
He looked no older than thirty. Blonde hair framed a calm, almost amused face, and his posture was relaxed—too relaxed for someone radiating such overwhelming power.
Caspian's breath caught.
That heart.
It burned.
Not like a fire, not like rage—but like a star. Dense. Massive. Controlled. Each beat sent waves of pressure rolling through the hall.
"This… this is him."
"The luminous chicken."
"No, of course not—the Saint, it had to be a Saint."
To Caspian's side stood another man, tall and broad-shouldered, his armor darker, marked with scars and wear. His gaze was sharp, calculating.
The one who struck him.
"Captain," the Saint said lightly. "You hit him quite hard."
The man snorted. "He's a creature of the night. I was merciful enough to not crush his skull, only because this creature didn't tried to attack my soldiers."
Caspian swallowed, throat dry.
"I didn't come to fight," he rasped.
The captain's eyes snapped to him. "It speaks."
"Astounding, really," the Saint replied, leaning forward slightly. "Most don't."
Caspian forced himself to lift his head. His chains were anchored to the floor, cold and heavy, but not burning him. That alone told him something.
The Saint was curious.
"What is your name? If you have one at all" the man in gold asked.
"…Caspian."
The Saint smiled faintly. "And I am Verdam, Verdam of the Celestial Bodies. Saint of the Sun."
Of course.
The captain crossed his arms. "My lord, this could be a sign. The Tyrant of the Moon may be moving. Sending scouts. Spies."
"A reasonable suspicion" Verdam said easily. "If this were a mindless creature."
He looked at Caspian again, eyes sharp now.
"But it isn't."
The captain frowned. "My lord?"
Verdam chuckled softly. "Captain, if you truly couldn't tell that this one possesses free will just by looking into his eyes, then perhaps you should spend less time polishing armor and more time observing people."
Caspian blinked.
"My… eyes?"
Verdam snapped his fingers. "A mirror."
A servant hurried forward, holding a polished silver mirror. It was placed before Caspian.
He stared.
The monster staring back at him was… different from before.
His skin was still pale, too pale. Fangs still curved from his mouth. But the black veins that once marred his face were mostly gone, leaving only faint traces along his cheeks.
And his eyes—
They were no longer empty.
Two sharp, crimson eyes stared back, alert, focused, alive.
"I didn't…" Caspian whispered. "I didn't know about this..."
"Yet, Free will" Verdam said calmly, rising from his throne. "Does not mean innocence."
He descended the steps, each footfall echoing softly.
"You could still be a spy. A weapon. A clever deception crafted by the Tyrant himself."
Caspian clenched his fists. "Then...what can i do to prove my innocence."
Verdam stopped before him, studying his face.
"I could kill you right now, it wouldn't matter if you are innocent or not." he said with a smile. "That would be far too easy, but i won't."
He turned and gestured. "Come. I will test you myself."
The tallest tower pierced the sky.
At its peak, the air shimmered with unbearable heat. Floating at the center of a circular chamber was a blazing sphere of condensed light, no larger than a barrel, yet radiant enough to force Caspian to shield his eyes.
"The Light of the Righteous" Verdam said reverently. "It judges all."
Caspian swallowed. "What do I have to do?"
Verdam smiled wider.
"You will receive a trial."
"And... And how will I know if I pass?"
Caspian asked with his voice trembling a bit.
Verdam stepped closer—and grabbed him effortlessly.
"If you pass" the Saint said cheerfully " You will walk away unharmed."
He lifted Caspian like a child.
"And...if i fail?"
Caspian asked
Verdam turned with a youthful laughter.
And threw him.
Straight into the burning light.
"There won't be anything left of you, not even the ashes."
The world vanished in fire.