As Asher walked out of the brewery, Freya's eyes stayed on the door a little longer than they should have. She let out a quiet sigh, muttering under her breath, "I wonder how he's doing..."
"Huh? What was that?" Rosa asked, glancing over while still arranging empty potion vials on the shelf.
"Oh, nothing! It's nothing," Freya said quickly, waving her hand with a nervous laugh.
Marcella raised an eyebrow and snorted. "For crying out loud, just admit you're worried about Jett."
Freya's face flushed as she spun around to face Marcella. "W-What? That's not it! I was just... thinking, that's all!" Stay connected with empire
"Oh yeah,
thinking
," Morrigan chimed in, suddenly popping up behind her with a cheeky grin. "It's okay, we're all worried about him."
Freya opened her mouth to argue but stopped when Rosa nodded along. "Yeah, with all that drama going on right now, it's hard not to think about it."
Freya managed a small smile at their words, but Marcella's dry tone broke the moment like a snapped string.
"I'm not worried," Marcella said flatly, her attention still on the bubbling potion in her cauldron.
Freya blinked, her brows furrowing. "How can you
not
be worried?!"
Marcella shrugged, not looking up. "First off, Jett's like the poster boy for doing too much. If he got out, he'd probably make me brew potions all day and night. I don't have the energy for that."
"That's... kinda true," Morrigan admitted, tapping her chin like she was genuinely thinking it over.
"And second," Marcella went on, her voice calm but firm, "he's strong. Like,
really
strong. Let's be honest, he could probably solo this whole mess if they let him. And even if he couldn't, he'd still carry the rest of us without breaking a sweat."
Rosa hesitated, tapping her fingers on the table. "When you put it like that... she's kinda got a point."
The room went quiet for a moment as the girls seemed lost in their thoughts. Rosa and Morrigan shared a look, both trying to figure out if Marcella was right or if they should still be worried.
Freya, though, wasn't having it. "Still," she said firmly, "if he was here, all of this would be over a lot faster."
Marcella finally looked up, smirking. "Maybe. But let's be honest, he wouldn't show up unless we really needed him. Or..." She raised an eyebrow and added with a teasing tone, "...unless someone
really
wanted to see him."
Freya's face turned bright red, and she crossed her arms defensively. "That's not...! I don't...! I mean, it'd just be
Freya just smirked, her resolve strengthening. Hang on, Jett. I'll figure this out.
*****
Deep in the heart of the prison, the air was frigid and heavy. Asher stood before an imposing iron door reinforced with both magic and steel. The faint hum of enchantments buzzed in the air, and four guards stood watch, their eyes scanning every inch of the area around them.
Yet, none of them saw him.
[Shadow Walk]
Asher's body melded with the darkness, his movements silent and undetectable. The shadows around him stretched unnaturally, intertwining with the guards' own until the boundary between him and the room faded entirely.
He moved like a whisper, gliding past the guards without even stirring the air.
The darkness was suffocating, an all-consuming void that devoured light and sound. The air felt heavy and damp, carrying a faint metallic tang of rust and blood.
A narrow staircase spiraled downward, each creaky step groaning underfoot as though reluctant to let anyone venture deeper. The descent seemed endless, the silence pressing in, broken only by the occasional drip of water echoing like a distant whisper.
At last, Asher reached the bottom. The shadows grew thicker here, oppressive and absolute. There were no torches, no magical lights, just an unrelenting blackness. It wasn't by accident. This prison was designed to crush its captives, stripping them of any sense of time or place.
Trapped in eternal darkness, the prisoners were left to rot, their minds unraveling long before their bodies gave out. For many, this wasn't just a physical cell; it was a prison for the soul.
"They've got a flair for the dramatic," Asher muttered, his voice breaking the suffocating silence. A smirk tugged at his lips. "Too bad it doesn't work on someone like me."
He flicked his hand, activating [Dark Blessing].
Sharpening his senses and illuminating the void in shades of gray. The crumbling stone walls, the iron bars of the cells, and even the faint scratches etched by desperate hands were now clear to him.
*****
As he moved through the corridor, Asher's steps were deliberate, his sharp gaze darting from one cell to the next. Most of the prisoners were hollowed-out shells, broken bodies slumped in corners or muttering incoherently to the walls. Some screamed now and then, their cries raw and animalistic, echoes of a shattered mind.
"Pitiful," Asher thought coldly, his expression unreadable as he strode past. The weight of despair in the air was almost palpable, but it didn't faze him. His focus was unshakable.
Eventually, he stopped in front of a cell that stood out from the rest. Thick layers of magic shimmered faintly over the iron bars, protective runes pulsing with power.
The air was heavier here, a testament to the strength of the enchantments meant to keep whatever, or whoever was inside from escaping. Asher didn't need to guess who it was.
A sly grin crept across his face as he approached, his voice smooth and mocking. "Hello, Commander," he said, letting the words hang in the still air. "I hope you're enjoying your stay."
From within the cell, a figure stirred, moving sluggishly. Though confined and weakened, they still carried an unmistakable aura of menace, a faint echo of the power they once commanded.
Asher's grin widened as he stepped closer, the dark energy radiating from him like a silent challenge. "I have to say, you don't look so commanding now."
*
*
*
Hehehe ʘ‿ʘ