Chapter 23
In the dungeon’s damp and oppressive atmosphere, Cassian confronts three captured Rogues who are visibly tormented and bound in shackles. The prisoners exhibit disturbing symptoms—twitching limbs, bloodshot eyes, and strange vocalizations—indicating they are under some form of dark control. Despite Cassian’s firm command and attempts to extract information about their controller, the Rogues are unable or unwilling to reveal their master, instead succumbing to violent convulsions and eventually dying in a unified, eerie collapse.
Cassian recognizes that the Rogues are victims manipulated by a hidden enemy using witchcraft, and their deaths serve as a warning rather than a defeat. The third prisoner’s chilling message confirms that the threat is already within Cassian’s lands, hidden among his people. This realization hardens Cassian’s resolve to find and confront the true enemy, whom he knows is using innocent children as pawns in a dangerous game.
With urgency, Cassian orders increased patrols, intensified border security, and thorough investigations to uncover anyone sheltering the controller. He emphasizes a quiet, methodical approach to rooting out the threat without causing panic, determined to expose and eliminate those responsible. Cassian’s cold, measured leadership contrasts with the chaos inflicted by the enemy, signaling his readiness to wage war when the time is right.
As dawn breaks, the search begins in earnest, with Cassian delegating tasks but maintaining a vigilant presence. His warning to the controller is clear: restraint should not be mistaken for weakness. The chapter closes with Cassian receiving a report from Commander Keane, signaling the continuation of his strategic efforts against the hidden menace within his kingdom.
Chapter 23
Cassian,
The air in the dungeon was thick with the damp scent of cold stone and the sharp tang of rusted iron. As I approached the heavy wooden door, the guards flanking it stiffened immediately. Their muscles tensed, breaths caught in their throats—reactions as predictable as the setting sun. I held my gaze on them, letting the weight of my presence press down, making them feel vulnerable beneath my watchful eyes.
“Open it,” I commanded, my voice cutting through the silence like ice. I needed to confront those Rogues myself, to understand the depth of what was unfolding.
The door groaned as it swung open, releasing a wave of stale, fetid air that assaulted my senses—sweat, blood, and the sour stench of bodies starved of sunlight. Three Rogues sat slumped against the far wall, their wrists bound in shackles. Their eyes rolled wildly, limbs twitching as if puppeteered by invisible forces. Their skin was pale, almost lifeless, and their lips moved in silent attempts to form words that refused to come.
I stepped inside deliberately, each movement measured so that silence would settle before I spoke. Lorenzo followed but stopped a step behind when I raised my hand.
“Stay by the door,” I instructed without turning around.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he replied, his voice taut with unease.
I lowered myself to crouch before the nearest prisoner. Even bent low, my stature loomed over him—authority and presence do not diminish with posture. His pupils were dilated and bloodshot, veins darkening the pale skin of his neck. His mouth opened and closed, jaw trembling like a wounded creature desperate to survive.
“Look at me,” I said firmly.
Reluctantly, his eyes locked onto mine. My gaze was sharp and unyielding, a blade honed to cut through deception. I softened my tone just slightly—not out of mercy, but as a calculated tactic. “Tell me who sent you p>
For a fleeting moment, his breathing steadied. A flicker of something genuine surfaced in his haunted expression—the frightened boy beneath the torment. He began to speak, but the words caught in his throat… then his body convulsed violently.
A guttural roar erupted from deep within him. He lunged forward with sudden ferocity.
I remained unmoved. Standing my ground, I let him strike the full length of his chain before he slammed hard against the wall. The impact rattled the shackles. Close enough now, the heat of his ragged breath brushed my face. He snapped his teeth, fury blazing in his posture—but that rage was not his alone.
He was one of the Rogues who had lost the power to shift.
The second captive began to foam at the mouth, his body writhing uncontrollably. The third chuckled—a sound wrong and eerie, high-pitched and hollow, layered with something inhuman. Lorenzo’s hand instinctively moved toward the hilt of his sword.
“Stay where you are,” I warned calmly. My voice carried the weight of command. He obeyed without hesitation. I did not want to harm them—they were victims, not villains. The true enemy lurked somewhere behind this nightmare, and they would bear the blame.
Moving to the next prisoner, I saw a boy barely older than a child, his bones sharp beneath thin, pale skin. His wrists were raw and bleeding from the chains. Every muscle twitched spasmodically, as if some unseen puppeteer manipulated his limbs. I crouched down until our eyes met.
“You feel them inside you,” I said softly. “Whoever controls you reaches into your mind like a parasite. Do you want it to end p>
My voice was gentle but edged with the kind of intensity that pries secrets loose.
His eyelids fluttered, a brief moment of clarity shining through the haze. A wet, broken whisper escaped his cracked lips. “Yes,” he rasped.
“Say who,” I pressed gently. “Say the name. Tell me where they hide p>
His mouth opened, the word almost forming—fragile as a moth drawn to flame. Then he screamed—a raw, animalistic cry that sucked the air from the chamber. His body arched violently, muscles twisting and thrashing. The chains scraped harshly against stone. Blood welled from his wrists, spurting in a sick spray.
I rose slowly, jaw clenched until the tendon in my neck stood out. The others writhed silently, eyes rolled back, hands clawing at the floor.
I stood motionless, watching them intently. My silence filled the dungeon far louder than any shout could.
“They’re destroying themselves before they can speak,” Lorenzo murmured, his voice trembling with horror.
I turned my head toward him, my gaze steady and unblinking. “I see that,” I replied quietly. “It seems the witchcraft is sealed deep within their souls. If they revealed who’s behind this, they would be killed p>
The third captive had stopped laughing. His eyes fixed on me with a sickening clarity. A sneer curled his lips, and the voice that emerged was layered, as if more than one mind spoke through him.
“You cannot stop them, King,” he hissed, the tone deep and echoing beyond his form. “They are already inside your lands. Among your people. You will never find them p>
I stepped forward until my shadow swallowed him whole. The flickering torchlight in the corridor carved sharp lines across my face.
“Tell them,” I said, voice low and cold as winter’s chill. “Tell the controller this: if they want war, I will give them war. If they hide, I will unmake them slowly. When I find whoever’s behind this, they will beg me for an end they do not deserve p>
His back arched in a violent spasm, and then all three prisoners seemed pulled by the same invisible thread. Their limbs jerked erratically, heads snapped back, and a unified howl erupted—a raw, primal sound that filled the dungeon and shook the bones of all who heard it.
Then, suddenly, silence.
Their bodies slumped forward like marionettes with severed strings. The chains clinked softly as they fell slack. No breath. No twitch. Not even the shallow rise and fall of zombies. They were simply gone.
Dead.
For a long moment, I stood still, the cold of the dungeon seeping into my skin. The guards outside quickened their pace but did not enter. Lorenzo’s face had drained of color.
“They killed them before we could learn anything,” he whispered, voice cracking.
“They wanted to be noticed,” I said, each word deliberate and heavy as stone.
“This wasn’t about the Rogues. It was a message. Someone wants me to know they are here p>
Cyrus’s voice rumbled through my thoughts like a low, hungry growl. “Let them come,” he spat, eager for battle. “They use children. They hide behind the weak p>
I turned to Lorenzo. “Tighten every patrol,” I ordered. “Double the watch along the border. Search every settlement those Rogues came from. Question anyone who had contact with them. Place wards on all the royal houses. If the controller is in my territory, they have a shelterer. Find out who’s protecting them p>
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Lorenzo replied swiftly, bowing with a trembling voice.
I stepped over the lifeless bodies, feeling nothing but a hard, efficient coldness settle over me. These Rogues had been mere tools—tools that shatter and cannot be trusted to reveal the hand that wielded them. But tools leave fingerprints.
As I reached the stairs, I paused and let my words hang in the air—not for information, but to tighten the atmosphere around those who heard. “If anyone in this pack is shielding them, they will be exposed. No one hides a threat and walks away unmarked p>
The guards shifted uneasily, swallowing hard. My stillness made the next moves inevitable. I did not raise my voice; I didn’t have to. The silence carried the weight of a gathering storm.
I wanted the controller found—not just because they dared to poison my lands, but because whoever manipulates others from the shadows holds contempt for life—and for me. That contempt demanded a reckoning.
I left Lorenzo with precise, unyielding orders. No alarms to the entire pack. No panic. Quiet, methodical rooting out. Find the shelterer. Trace the routes. Uncover the relics or charms used to bind minds.
Let the controller watch from their hiding place. Let them believe they have time. They won’t. I will strip this secret bare until all that remains is ash and confession.
By the time dawn broke, strong and clear, patrols were in motion, lists compiled, and the search had teeth. I did not lead the effort personally; leadership sometimes requires distance. But when the moment came, I would not hesitate to act. I had the patience to plan and the will to end this when the time demanded.
The controller had made the fatal mistake every creature makes when underestimating a king: confusing restraint for weakness.
“Your Majesty!” Commander Keane’s voice called from behind. “I am home p>
I turned to face him. He bowed respectfully. “I have brought everything you requested. What shall I do with them?” he asked.
“Take them to my quarters. To Luna Roana,” I instructed.
The chapter closes on a somber note, with the chilling realization that the Rogues were mere pawns in a larger, darker game. Their tragic fate underscores the cruelty of the unseen enemy manipulating minds and lives from the shadows. Cassian’s unwavering resolve and measured authority shine through his stoic demeanor, reflecting a leader who understands the gravity of the threat yet remains calm and deliberate in his response. The emotional weight of the prisoners’ suffering and silence lingers, emphasizing the cost of this hidden war and the deep scars it leaves behind.
Despite the despair, there is a fierce determination that pulses beneath the surface—a promise of relentless pursuit and justice. Cassian’s commands to tighten security and root out the enemy reveal a strategic mind ready to confront the darkness head-on. The chapter ends with a quiet but powerful tension, a king poised to protect his realm and people, signaling that though the enemy may hide, they will not escape unchallenged. This blend of vulnerability and strength captures the essence of leadership in a time of crisis, leaving the reader with a profound sense of anticipation and hope.
The next chapter promises to deepen the shadows cast over the kingdom as the search for the elusive controller tightens. With the Rogues’ tragic demise serving as a chilling message, Cassian’s resolve will be tested like never before. The tension between patience and the thirst for swift justice will simmer, hinting at the delicate balance he must maintain to protect his people without succumbing to rash decisions. Readers can expect the emotional weight of leadership to press heavily on him, revealing more of his inner turmoil and the burdens he silently bears.
Meanwhile, the quiet but relentless hunt for the shelterer within the realm may expose unexpected alliances and betrayals, stirring unrest beneath the surface. The presence of Luna Roana and the mysterious items brought by Commander Keane suggests that the coming moments will weave intrigue and urgency, possibly unveiling secrets that challenge Cassian’s understanding of loyalty and power. As the stakes rise, the atmosphere is thick with anticipation—will the king’s strategy outmaneuver the hidden enemy, or will the darkness encroach further into his lands?
Cedella
Cedella is a passionate storyteller known for her bold romantic and spicy novels that keep readers hooked from the very first chapter. With a flair for crafting emotionally intense plots and unforgettable characters, she blends love, desire, and drama into every story she writes. Cedella’s storytelling style is immersive and addictive—perfect for fans of heated romances and heart-pounding twists.