The night had grown cold by the time West emerged from the dungeon. Darkness had settled over Minht, muting the camp into an uneasy stillness. The crackle of distant campfires and the occasional murmur of guards drifted through the air, but little else disturbed the silence.
A lone figure waited beside the dungeon gates.
"Turik." West lifted a hand in salute as he approached.
Turik flicked a sunflower seed from between his fingers before popping another into his mouth. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah." West gave a small nod. His voice came out flat. "Were you waiting for me?"
"Hemlo mentioned you'd gone down there." Turik cracked another seed between his teeth. "How's he looking?"
West lingered for a moment before answering. His shoulders rose in a tired shrug. "Not good."
The words carried more weight than he intended.
Turik let out a long whistle through his teeth. "After what Odessa put him through, I'm surprised he didn't ask you to end him." A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it faded when West didn't so much as glance his way. He spat another shell onto the dirt. "Come on, West. You can't get too hung up on this guy. Not when you could just ask Odessa to let him out."
"Yeah." West nodded once, his eyes fixed somewhere beyond the ground at his feet. "You're right."
The agreement sounded hollow even to him.
Turik rested a firm hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Now let me tell you about the man who's breaking my heart."
West finally looked up. "Broc?"
"Fucking Broc!" Turik sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "He skipped work and training today. Some of the Minhtians said they spotted him wandering around the woods by himself. I want to go check on him. Make sure he's alright."
"Then you should." West offered a weary nod. "It's getting late."
Turik frowned. "Oh, come on, West! You know Broc's angry with me. I figured if we went together, maybe we could talk some sense into him. Remind him he's still part of the crew."
West let out a slow breath. "Honestly, Turik... I'm not in the mood to talk."
Turik clicked his tongue and scuffed the toe of his boot through the dirt. For a moment he simply watched West, weighing him with the same measured look he used on recruits who had forgotten themselves.
"Dammit, West…!" His voice hardened. "As far as I'm concerned, as long as you're staying in Minht, you're still on my crew. Which means I'm still your commander."
He stepped forward and gave West a firm shove against the shoulder. "Enough sulking. I'm ordering you to come with me."
West looked up at him.
Turik didn't budge. "You're a Blue Heart today, tomorrow, and long after you leave this place." His gaze never wavered. "And a Blue Heart does not swim in the pond of his regrets."
West fought to keep a straight face, but a small laugh escaped him. "Alright, Commander. Lead the way."
Turik gave a satisfied nod and started down the path. West fell in beside him, the two walking through the quiet streets as the night settled around them. "I'm in a bit of a situation," Turik admitted after a while. "Broc skipped all his duties today. Considering everything that's happened, I can't really blame him, but..." He spread his hands with an exasperated sigh. "It's a big but. I have to report it to Odessa."
West glanced sideways at him. "How often does she ask about Broc?"
"Never." Turik let out a deep sigh.
"Then why tell her?" West frowned. "It's one day."
Turik scratched at his beard, searching for an answer that satisfied even himself. "Because she has to know. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but she'll find out eventually. And when she does, she'll ask why I kept it from her." He gave a helpless shrug. "Then her anger lands on me."
"In her current state," West replied, "she probably won't even remember what you tell her tonight."
Turik considered that for a moment before letting out a quiet chuckle. "You might actually be right." His amusement faded almost as quickly as it came. "That Tyrus..." His eyes drifted ahead into the darkness. "He's got some hands. For a second there..." He shook his head. "No. I don't even want to think about it now. I honestly thought he was going to get one over on Odessa."
The memory lingered between them.
"You know," Turik continued, "I'm convinced I saved Broc's life by stopping him from challenging for the Dragon back at the cave." A crooked smile found its way onto his face. "Course, I'd never tell him that."
West answered with only a faint nod. His silence said enough. They walked a little farther before Turik spoke again.
"I'm going to miss you when you're gone, West."
West looked over, surprised.
"You always seemed to understand me better than the rest."
A small smile crept onto West's face before disappearing just as quickly. His eyes fell back to the road beneath his boots.
Turik wasn't finished. "I'm serious. I'd trade a thousand of these bastards just to keep you around a little longer."
West let out a quiet breath through his nose. "I'm flattered, Turik. But I've already made my decision."
"Yeah, I know." Turik nodded. "Doesn't mean you shouldn't hear it." He looked over at West, his expression unusually earnest. "You did a lot of good while you were here. More than you probably realize. I don't want you leaving this place thinking none of it mattered." He tapped a fist lightly against his own chest. "I noticed."
West was quiet for several steps. "Thank you, Turik." His voice barely rose above the breeze. "I just... I can't stay here anymore." He swallowed, his eyes never leaving the path ahead. "Every corner of this place reminds me of him... and the fate I handed him."
Turik spat another trail of sunflower seed shells into the grass. "I think I understand." His voice grew quieter than before. "When my brother died in battle, I swore I was done with the Blue Hearts, done with Odessa. I figured if I left, maybe I'd leave all the pain behind too."
A faint smile crossed his face, though it carried little warmth. "Turns out grief doesn't care where you go." He let the thought hang between them for a while.
West finally broke the silence. "So... how did you get over it?"
Turik looked ahead, his eyes fixed somewhere beyond the torchlight. "You don't." His answer came without hesitation. "Eventually, you just accept that they're dead... and you're not."
Neither of them said a word after that.
They wandered through the torchlit streets of Minht, exchanging salutes with passing Hearts and greeting the guards stationed throughout the city. Order had returned with Odessa's recovery. Patrols moved with purpose, watchfires burned brighter, and every soldier seemed to have somewhere they were expected to be.
Leaving the city behind, they crossed into the surrounding woods where several of Broc's former underlings claimed to have seen him. The forest swallowed the sounds of Minht until only the rustling leaves remained.
Then came the sharp crack of steel biting into wood.
Turik stopped.
Another strike echoed through the trees.
"That's him." He pointed into the darkness. "Come on."
They followed the sound until the warm glow of a campfire emerged between the trunks.
Broc stood alone within the circle of light.
Twin axes flashed through the air with relentless precision, each swing ending in another violent impact against a scarred tree. He never lingered on one target for long. Chop. Pivot. Lunge. Another tree. Another blow. Sweat glistened across his brow as every strike carried enough force to shake bark loose into the firelight.
It wasn't training. It was anger searching for something solid to hit. The rhythm broke the moment he noticed them.
Without a word, Broc spun and hurled both axes into the ground. The blades erected themselves deep in the hard earth, the hafts trembling from the force before settling upright.
He turned his back on them and walked toward the longsword resting beside the fire. "I don't want to talk to anyone right now."
Turik watched him for a second before scratching thoughtfully at his chin. "Well..." He glanced sideways at West. "He doesn't want to talk. What do we do?"
West's tired expression finally gave way to a hint of irritation. "Why don't you command him to talk to you, Commander?"
Turik sighed. "Fair enough." He stepped into the campsite anyway. "Nice fire you've got going."
Broc answered with a single violent swing of his sword before turning to face him. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath, his grip tightening around the hilt. "I told you I didn't want to talk." His glare locked onto Turik. "Especially not to you, Turik!"
Turik glanced from Broc's raised sword to the grim expression behind it.
Broc slowly lowered the blade before turning his back on them once more. "You can tell Odessa that whoever she names as Champion..." He resumed his relentless swings, carving through another invisible opponent. "I'll be the one issuing the challenge."
Turik frowned, genuinely considering the possibility. "Who would she even choose?" He counted them off on his fingers. "Pecos? That lanky bastard can barely lift the Red Dragon. One of the Musso brothers? One's a known liar, and the other's missing three fingers!" He snorted. "Who else is even eligible?"
"I don't care who it is." Broc's sword sliced through the night with another vicious arc. "What house they come from means nothing." Another swing. "I'll be ready."
Turik spread his hands. "That's exactly my point. None of them can compete with you. They know it. You know it." He gave Broc a confident grin. "Hell, Odessa knows it too."
Broc's jaw tightened. "And if she still denies me?"
"She won't!" The certainty in Turik's voice echoed through the clearing.
Broc's eyes drifted past him toward West. The two held each other's gaze for a long moment.
West finally spoke. "If the relationship is dead..." His voice was calm, almost distant. "Eventually you'll realize you aren't."
Turik blinked as confusion was written across his face. West simply lifted his hands in a small shrug. Broc stared at him for another heartbeat before the fight seemed to drain from his shoulders. He lowered the sword and drove its point into the earth beside the fire.
Then he walked back toward Turik.
"Why are you really here?" His eyes narrowed. "Did Odessa send you to get a read on me?"
Turik's expression softened. "I came because I'm worried about you." He took another step closer. "Pearl trusted us to hold this place together while she was gone. That starts with us staying together."
Broc looked away. "I'm not a commander anymore." His voice carried none of the anger from before, only exhaustion. "I can't help you."
Turik shook his head. "I don't need a commander." He planted a firm fist against Broc's chest. "I need you."
The words landed harder than the blow.
Broc exhaled slowly before turning away once again. He managed only a few steps before raising a hand to his face.
Silence settled over the clearing.
His shoulders remained perfectly still, but a quiet sniff betrayed him. He tilted his head toward the stars, lingering there until he trusted his voice again.
"Broc?" Turik's tone had lost every trace of command. "You alright?"
"Yes..." Broc swallowed hard and cleared his throat. "I..." Another long breath. "I'm…only meditating." He kept his eyes fixed on the night sky. "There's... a lot to think about."
Turik slowly turned toward West. West looked just as lost as he did.
Turik looked between the two of them before clearing his throat. "We came out here because West had something he wanted to tell you."
West frowned. "I did?"
Turik gave him an impatient look. "Yeah. You're leaving?"
Recognition crossed West's face. "Right…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'll be heading to the western continent soon." The words came more slowly once they were spoken aloud. "I'm leaving the Blue Hearts."
Broc blinked, the redness still lingering around his eyes. "Is that an assignment?"
West shook his head. "No. I'm taking my pay and... seeing what's out there."
Broc studied him for a moment. "What's out there?"
West let out a quiet breath. "I don't know." His gaze drifted beyond the fire toward the darkness stretching between the trees. "Maybe something different." He shrugged. "Maybe that's enough."
Broc followed his gaze into the woods as though trying to see whatever West had imagined. "Something different..." The words lingered in his mouth longer than he expected.
West smiled faintly. "If things don't work out here..." He gestured toward the forest beyond them. "Maybe you can come looking with me."
For the first time that night, Broc smiled without forcing it. "That would be..." He trailed off, lost somewhere in the thought.
Turik folded his arms with an exaggerated sigh. "Easy, you two." A grin tugged at his face. "Let's not forget where we are. We just captured the Red Dragon, Odessa's preparing for a war, and you're already planning your retirement."
Broc let out a quiet chuckle. The sound surprised even him. He nodded to himself before straightening his shoulders. "You're right." His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword. "I'll remind Odessa that I'm not simply her Champion." His voice carried its old conviction again. "I'm the Champion of the world!"
Turik's smile widened. "Now that's the Broc I was hoping to find!" He extended his hand. "I'll see you tomorrow morning?"
Broc clasped it firmly before pulling Turik a step closer. "Bright and early." His expression hardened with renewed purpose. "And tell Odessa I'll be ready."
Turik nodded. "Then it's settled."
Together, the three men made their way back through the sleeping city. Their conversation faded into comfortable silence as the walls of Minht rose before them once more.
At the city's center, they went their separate ways. West continued toward his quarters. Broc disappeared into the barracks.
Turik turned toward the officers' hall, the largest building in Minht and the place Odessa had claimed as her headquarters. Two guards stood watch outside the entrance. They saluted as he approached, and Turik returned the gesture before rapping his knuckles against the heavy wooden door.
"Captain," he called softly, careful not to disturb her if she had finally fallen asleep.
"Come inside, Turik." She was already awake.
Turik stepped inside and quietly shut the door behind him.
Odessa sat waiting in dark silk robes embroidered with blue thread, as though she had expected his report all along.
"How are you feeling?" Turik asked.
Odessa's lips curled into a playful pout before easing into a knowing smile. "Did you talk to West?"
"I did." Turik gave a short nod. "Hemlo was right. West went down to visit the prisoner."
Odessa rose from her chair and crossed the room until only a step separated them. "And?" Her single question carried more weight than a dozen others.
"He didn't say much." Turik shrugged. "He's still set on leaving."
Odessa considered that for a moment before tilting her head. "And Tyrus?" She searched his face for the answer before he spoke.
"I think West finally settled that matter with himself." Turik folded his hands behind his back. "There shouldn't be anything standing in the way of the execution now."
A slow smile spread across Odessa's face. "Excellent!" She turned without another word and crossed to a nearby dresser where a white bottle of rum rested beside a pair of crystal glasses. She poured two generous drinks before offering one to Turik.
He accepted it with a puzzled look. "The good bottle?" He glanced down at the glass before looking back up at her. "I haven't even told you everything we accomplished today. It was actually quite productive. We managed to..."
Odessa raised a hand, and Turik fell silent. She took a slow drink, savoring it before lowering the glass.
"Walk with me." She finished the rum in one swallow, reached for the Red Dragon, and stepped into the hallway.
Turik emptied his own glass a moment later and hurried after her. Their footsteps echoed through the quiet corridors of the officers' hall.
"I've already sent word to Pearl," Odessa spoke without looking back. "The others will begin preparing immediately." She paused just long enough for the next words to settle. "We march in two weeks."
Turik nearly stopped walking. "Two weeks!?" His brow furrowed. "Not with what we've got."
Odessa led him into an adjoining bedroom. "There are roughly four hundred soldiers stationed in Minht."
"Three hundred sixty-two," Turik corrected automatically.
Odessa gave the slightest smile. "Then we'll make three hundred sixty-two look like an army." She continued across the room. "I'm expecting twice that number once the reinforcements and mercenaries arrive. Add whatever fighters we can rally from Minht itself..." She stopped beside a tall bookshelf. "...and we'll have enough."
She looked back at him. "Push that toward the wall."
Turik frowned but did as he was told. The heavy shelves groaned across the floor until a narrow wooden door emerged from behind them. He stared at it. "How long has that been there?"
Odessa answered by lifting the latch. "Beneath Minht is a network of tunnels." She pulled the hidden door open to reveal a staircase descending into darkness. "They connect nearly every important part of the city." She handed Turik a lit torch before stepping toward a small iron box mounted beside the entrance. "I want you to know them as well as I do."
Turik held the torch higher, watching as Odessa uncorked a flask of oil and carefully poured it into a narrow metal funnel protruding from the strange iron box. The device gave no indication of what it was or why it needed feeding. Odessa behaved as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world.
"I'm not worried about the number of soldiers," Turik replied, holding the torch while Odessa emptied the last of the oil into the funnel. "Winter tore through our supplies. Even if every man is ready, we'd need at least eight weeks before we could field anything worth calling an army."
Odessa offered no response. Instead, she wrapped both hands around a heavy iron chain hanging beside the strange metal box and gave it a firm pull. The machine answered with a deep metallic growl.
Another pull. It coughed and rattled as though something buried deep inside had finally awakened. Thin streams of smoke curled from beneath its frame while the grinding echoed through the tunnel.
Turik instinctively took a step back. "What... is that?"
Before Odessa could answer, a faint glow appeared farther down the passage. It began as little more than a dull shimmer. Then another. And another. Light spread through the catacombs in a slow procession until the darkness retreated before it.
Turik stared in stunned silence.
Black vines stretched along both walls, each one bearing small glass bulbs filled with captured lightning. One after another, they sprang to life, bathing the tunnel in a pale, unwavering glow unlike any torch or lantern he had ever seen.
He found himself pressed against the stone wall, careful not to let so much as a sleeve brush against the strange lights. "Odessa..." His voice barely escaped him. "What is this?"
“Power” Odessa continued walking as though nothing about it deserved a second glance. "This is what waits for us in Evokia." She ran a hand along the stone as she passed. "The Evok and his priests have hidden our people's knowledge for generations." She looked back at him. "
Her eyes narrowed. "If this amazes you..." She rested a hand against the Red Dragon at her side. "...then you haven't begun to imagine the weapons guarding the treasures beyond Evokia's gates."
Turik slowly followed after her, never taking his eyes off the glowing bulbs lining the walls. "This is..." He searched for words that refused to come except one. "...incredible!" Wonder slowly gave way to caution as he kept as much distance from the opposite wall as the narrow tunnel allowed.
Incredible or not, he wasn't about to touch whatever lived inside those tiny glass vessels.
Odessa's voice echoed ahead of him. "We strike Pennyroyal in two weeks." She never slowed her pace. "We'll hit them hard and fast. Before they understand what's happening, we'll move on to Lavender Hollow."
Another few steps. "Then Juniper." She glanced back at him. "Within six weeks, we'll be firmly established there."
Turik rubbed at his forehead. "Six… six weeks!?" He let out a weary breath. "Captain... that's a difficult sell."
Odessa didn't hesitate. "We need their supplies." Her answer came as though the matter had already been settled. "Once those territories are ours, we'll have enough provisions to carry us through the rest of the summer."
She tapped the Red Dragon's hilt with one finger. "By the time the leaves begin to turn, we'll be standing outside Evokia with enough wealth and strength to challenge the Evok's royal army."
Turik tried to picture it. Pennyroyal first. Followed by Lavender Hollow. Next, Juniper. Every calculation in his mind told him the same thing.
"Six weeks..." He looked at Odessa with open disbelief.
She simply kept walking beneath the silent glow of the forgotten lights. "Yes. Six weeks." Odessa rolled her eyes as though the number had already survived far greater scrutiny.
"The Evokians' eastern army is still tied down in the south. Once we strike Pennyroyal, it'll take them eight, maybe ten weeks to redirect those forces toward us." She continued through the tunnels without slowing. "They've suffered through the same winter we have. Their men are exhausted, their supplies are strained, and they're fighting on multiple fronts."
She glanced over her shoulder. "We have an opening." Her grip tightened around the Red Dragon. "And I intend to use it."
Turik remained unconvinced. His attention drifted back to the glowing glass bulbs lining the walls. Their steady light reflected in his eyes as he cautiously pointed toward one. "And what happens when we finally reach Evokia?"
He hesitated, his voice shaking. "But, how do we fight... this?"
Odessa didn't answer. She simply raised her fist and drove it straight into the nearest glass bulb. It shattered with a sharp crack. Tiny sparks burst into the air before dying almost instantly. The pale light vanished, leaving only a scattering of glittering fragments across the stone floor.
Turik instinctively threw an arm across his face. When nothing else happened, he slowly lowered it. The remaining lights continued glowing as though nothing had occurred.
Odessa brushed the glass dust from her knuckles. "The same way we deal with everything else." She rested the Red Dragon across her shoulder. "With force." A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Besides..." Her fingers tapped the ancient weapon. "We possess something they no longer do."
Turik nodded, though he wasn't sure whether he agreed or simply lacked another answer.
Odessa continued deeper into the tunnels until they reached a fork in the passage. She paused only long enough to choose a direction before speaking again. "Which brings us to our next problem."
"Our Champion," Turik answered.
"Exactly." Odessa’s voice was stern.
He quickened his pace to catch up beside her. "With all due respect, Captain..." He chose his words carefully. "I think you should reconsider Broc. None of the other Bloods come close."
They arrived at another hidden doorway. Odessa pushed it open. Beyond it stretched a narrow hallway swallowed by darkness. The glowing bulbs had disappeared, leaving only the flickering torchlight in Turik's hand to guide them.
"I'm finished with Broc." Her voice echoed softly through the corridor. "He doesn't have the fight in him anymore."
Turik frowned. "I have to disagree." He followed close behind. "Broc's still our strongest warrior. Give him his place back, and he will remind you who he is."
Odessa said nothing. The silence unsettled him more than any argument could have. The torchlight caught the side of her face just long enough for him to see the faint smile forming there.
Turik slowed. "Or..." The thought came reluctantly. "...have you already chosen someone else?"
"I have." Odessa opened one final door.
Cold air drifted out to meet them. They stepped into the dungeon. Rows of empty cells disappeared into the darkness while the lone occupied chamber rested at the far end of the room.
Curled against the stone floor, Tyrus slept in heavy chains, oblivious to their arrival.
Odessa stopped before the cell and looked toward Turik. "Him."
Turik stared through the bars. His eyes moved from the battered prisoner...
...to Odessa...
...and back again.
"Him!?" Turik’s eyes were wide with a mix of confusion and awe.
Odessa exhaled slowly, her smile never wavering. "Yes. Him."
Turik tore his eyes away from the prisoner and looked toward Odessa. "But, That's not legal…! He doesn't belong to any of the Houses." His confusion bordered on disbelief. "He's an Ura."
Odessa scarcely acknowledged the objection. "It's a new world, Turik." Her gaze remained fixed on Tyrus. "We don't need an emperor for the north anymore." She rested the Red Dragon against her shoulder. "We need one for the world."
She spoke the words as though the future had already been decided. "I'll train him." A faint smile crossed her lips. "And Mozam will teach him."
Turik felt the ground shift beneath everything he believed. His hand found the cold iron bars beside him as he steadied himself. "But..." The argument died before it could leave his mouth.
Odessa finally turned toward him. "But what?" Her voice remained calm. "I've seen what his hands can do. Lord Omni himself acknowledged him." She glanced toward Tyrus. "And West delivered him to me." Her fingers tightened around the Red Dragon. "The gods have already rendered their judgment." She struck the iron bars with the flat of the ancient weapon.
The ringing echoed through the dungeon like the toll of a great bell.
Tyrus jerked awake. His eyes darted through the darkness, searching the empty cells surrounding him. "Who's there!?" His voice was steady, though the uncertainty beneath it betrayed him. "Queen Rah-Kell?"
A quiet laugh drifted through the chamber. "Not quite."
Recognition slowly settled across Tyrus's face. "It's you."
Odessa stepped closer to the bars. "Captain Odessa of the Blue Hearts." She extended her hand toward him.
Tyrus looked at it but made no effort to take it. "Captain?"
Odessa's hand remained perfectly still. "Shake my hand."
Tyrus's brow furrowed. "You're... a woman?"
Odessa let out a weary sigh before rolling her eyes. "We've already settled this." A crooked smile returned to her face. "Yes, I'm a woman." She lifted her chin ever so slightly. "I'm the woman who defeated you, Tyrus wielder of the Red Dragon."
The offered hand never wavered.
Tyrus ignored it. His eyes narrowed instead. "How do you know who I am?" His gaze shifted from Odessa to Turik and back again.
Odessa's smile only widened. "Who do you think led me to you?"
The answer struck him almost immediately. His shoulders sagged. "...West."
Odessa finally lowered her hand. "West delivered you to me." Her voice carried no malice. Only certainty. "You owe me blood."
Tyrus drew a slow breath through his nose, his jaw tightening as his eyes dropped toward the stone floor.
Odessa watched him in silence before letting out a quiet chuckle. "Don't look so miserable." She slid the Red Dragon from her shoulder and extended it through the bars. The ancient weapon hung between them. "I never said it had to be yours.”
Tyrus's eyes settled on the Red Dragon. They never left it. His hand moved before his mind could stop it as his fingers reached through the bars and wrapped around the familiar hilt.
The moment the Red Dragon settled into his grasp, something changed. His shoulders straightened. His grip tightened. The exhaustion that had consumed him since the battle did not disappear, but for the first time, he looked less like a defeated prisoner and more like the warrior he had always believed himself to be.
Odessa noticed. Of course she did. "It seems we have matching interests, Tyrus." A faint smile touched her lips. "And truthfully..." Her expression sharpened. "I could use a man like you on my side."
Tyrus gave no response. His attention remained fixed on the weapon in his hands. His thumb slowly traced the worn leather of the grip, remembering every battle, every victory, and every loss carried alongside it.
Odessa allowed the silence to continue.
Then she spoke again. "I know where Terrah is."
The name alone was enough. Tyrus's hand stopped moving.
"And as luck would have it..." Odessa stepped closer. "She is exactly where we are going."
Slowly, Tyrus lifted his eyes.
For the first time since waking in the dungeon, he looked at Odessa not as an enemy, but as someone holding the one thing he could not find himself.
A way forward.
"Let me help you." Odessa did not demand an answer. She simply let the offer exist between them.
The dungeon became silent.
Tyrus looked down at the Red Dragon, then back toward the woman standing beyond the bars. Hours earlier, they had stood across from each other as enemies, their blades deciding which of them would remain standing.
Now Odessa stood wounded but unbroken, offering him a future beyond the walls of a cell. Pride screamed at him to reject her. The warrior inside him knew better. Slowly, Tyrus extended his hand.
Odessa accepted it without hesitation. A knowing smile crossed her face as she reached to her belt and produced a key. The lock turned. The iron door groaned open.
For a moment, Tyrus remained still. Then he stepped beyond the threshold.
"Tyrus," Odessa said, gesturing toward the man beside her. "This is my right hand, Turik."
Turik extended his hand.
Tyrus stared at it. "I remember you." His eyes narrowed slightly. "This man is a coward, he refused to fight." He ignored the offered hand.
Before Turik could respond, Odessa's voice cut through the room. "Turik." The command in her tone immediately captured his attention. "Until I can square things away, you will keep this between us." She held his gaze. "I will see that the legality of this stands."
Turik's expression tightened, but he nodded.
Odessa turned back toward Tyrus. "I'll find you a doctor. You'll be taken care of. I promise you"
Tyrus gave no answer, but he followed as she turned toward the hidden passage beyond the dungeon. The three figures disappeared into the darkness beneath Minht. Turik followed behind them, but his thoughts remained trapped in the chamber they had just left. The man who had been defeated. The man who had been imprisoned. The man who was supposed to die. Was now the future Champion of the Blue Hearts.
And Turik was the only one who knew.