Arterios' Perspective:

The door shut behind us, sealing out the noise of pursuit. For a moment, the silence was so profound it felt like we had crossed a boundary between two worlds. Maria’s wide eyes searched mine, reflecting both relief and fear. I couldn’t afford to dwell on either.

“Stay alert,” I said, my voice echoing against the stone walls. The corridor was narrow, lined with cracked stones that seemed to whisper the secrets of those who had passed through here before. The air carried the musty scent of forgotten stories and memories buried deep beneath the city.

Maria nodded, her fingers still clenched around my arm. I could feel her trembling slightly, but she didn’t say a word. There was no need. We both understood the stakes.

As we moved deeper into the passage, the flickering torchlight painted shadows that leapt and twisted, giving life to the ghosts of my doubts. Would we find Artemis? Was she even still within Dracathea's fortress walls? The questions clawed at my mind, each one a thorn in my resolve.

“Art, look.” Maria’s voice, barely above a whisper, brought me back to the present. She gestured to an etching on the wall—a dragon curled protectively around a human figure, its wings spread wide, as if shielding its charge from unseen foes. The inscription below read: The Last Pact.

I frowned, tracing the rough carving with my fingertips. The Last Pact was an old legend, a tale that even elves in Elviel knew of—a binding promise between the Dracathean king and an ancient creature, sealed with blood. It was said to grant power to the royal lineage but at a cost.

Before I could dwell on it further, the sound of approaching footsteps jerked me into action. I motioned for Maria to hide in a recess in the wall, and I pressed myself against the opposite side, drawing my sword just enough for its blade to catch the torchlight—a silent warning to anyone who dared approach.

The footsteps grew louder, echoing ominously. A shadow fell across the corridor’s entrance, broad and unhurried, as if its owner feared nothing within these hidden passages. My breath stilled as a man stepped into view, his dark hair tied back, eyes sharp as blades. He wore no royal crest, but his posture marked him as someone of importance.

“Arterios,” he said, voice smooth and familiar. My pulse quickened as recognition settled in.

“Lucius,” I replied, not sheathing my blade.

Lucius was one of Dracathea’s elite, a former strategist known for his ruthless cunning. We had met years ago during an uneasy truce negotiation between our two kingdoms. Now, his sudden appearance here was a puzzle piece that could either complete our mission or shatter it entirely.

He raised an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips. “You’re a long way from home, elf prince. And with a human, no less.” His gaze flicked to Maria, who held her ground despite the tension crackling in the air.

“We don’t have time for games, Lucius,” I said, keeping my voice even. “We need to get inside the fortress, and you’re going to help us.”

His smile widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Help you?” He stepped closer, the space between us shrinking, heavy with unspoken threats. “You’re assuming I haven’t been sent to stop you.”

I tightened my grip on the sword hilt. “If that were true, we wouldn’t be talking.”

For a moment, silence stretched between us, a duel of wills fought without a single blade drawn. Then, as suddenly as it began, Lucius let out a soft chuckle and leaned back. “You haven’t changed. Always so sure of yourself.” He glanced at Maria again, as if weighing her importance. “Very well. I’ll take you as far as the inner sanctum. But beyond that, you’re on your own.”

Maria exhaled audibly, a mixture of relief and new apprehension in her eyes. I nodded, sliding my sword back into its sheath but not taking my eyes off Lucius. Trust was a luxury we couldn’t afford, but an ally—however temporary—was a necessity.

“Follow me,” Lucius said, turning on his heel and leading us deeper into the darkness.

Maria's Perspective:

I kept close to Art, my heart pounding as the corridor narrowed and dipped into a set of descending steps. The air grew colder, each breath turning into a puff of mist. The sound of water dripping somewhere nearby added to the chill. Lucius moved with practiced ease, pausing only when the path forked into different tunnels, as if listening for a signal only he could hear.

“Why are you doing this?” I finally dared to ask, my voice shaking but determined.

Lucius glanced over his shoulder, one eyebrow arching. “Why indeed?” He turned back, continuing down a path marked with faint, ancient runes. “Let’s just say, the balance of power in Dracathea has shifted, and some of us aren’t happy with the new order.”

Art’s jaw tightened. “Artemis. Where is she?”

Lucius stopped abruptly, the sudden halt making me nearly crash into Art. His eyes, now cold and unreadable, met ours. “She is where power converges. And where power converges, sacrifices are made.”

My blood ran cold at the implication, and I felt Art’s tension harden into something sharper. We exchanged a look—one of shared determination that no cryptic warning would stop us.

Lucius resumed walking, his silence carrying a weight that promised answers soon, but not without a price.