Chapter Sixty-Eight

KALLIAS'S POV

I stand with Rhodes before the iron-bound entrance to the prison, the door a foreboding relic from a bygone era. Each time I see it, it feels like the entrance to another world—one where our childhood nightmares took form and became reality. The heavy iron bars seem to breathe with the echoes of old screams, the memories of a past that refuses to stay buried.

Rhodes's expression remains calm, almost stoic, but I know the tension beneath his facade. We’re not just visiting a prisoner today; we’re confronting ghosts from our past. Our mother’s dark influence has always been a shadow over our lives, and this visit is more than just a fact-finding mission. It’s personal.

“You really think it’s wise to see her?” Rhodes asks, his voice low but filled with an edge of concern. “It could be a trap. We’ve walked into her games before.”

I glance back at Rhodes, the flickering torchlight catching the hard lines of my face. “It’s not about wisdom,” I reply, my tone sharp with conviction. “It’s about closure. We need to understand her intentions. Besides, I need to see her for myself. I need to face the specter of my past head-on.”

Rhodes’s eyes narrow, but he nods reluctantly. “Very well. But remember, our objective is to gather information, not to let her manipulations sway us. Stay focused.”

As we proceed through the dim, winding corridors of the dungeon, the air grows colder. The scent of damp stone and mildew is pungent, mixing with an undertone of decay that sends shivers down my spine. Each step echoes off the walls, a rhythmic reminder of the oppressive darkness that surrounds us.

The memories of our childhood are as vivid as if they happened yesterday. I barely remember our biological mother—her face is a fleeting blur in my mind, overshadowed by the witches who came to claim us. The Cauldron, that infernal device, remade us into beings of their design, twisting our fates with its cruel magic. I remember the agony, the harsh whispers of enchantments, and the cold touch of chains. Those memories are like splintered glass, sharp and painful.

But the image of our mother in chains, bound and beaten, is a clear and haunting vision.

The guards, impassive and unfeeling, open the heavy door with a groan of rusty hinges. We descend further into the dungeon, where the temperature drops even more. The walls are slick with moisture, and the flickering torchlight casts grotesque shadows that dance like specters on the stone.

We reach a massive wooden door, its surface scarred and battered from years of neglect. I push it open, the creak reverberating through the chamber. There she is—our mother, a once-majestic figure now reduced to a pitiable sight, shackled and hunched against the wall. Her once-commanding presence is diminished, but her eyes—those cold, calculating eyes—are still sharp and unyielding.

She looks up as we enter, her gaze locking onto mine with a mixture of disdain and recognition. “Kallias,” she says, her voice cold and measured. “And Rhodes.”

I step forward, the clinking of my boots against the stone floor mingling with the sound of her chains. My heart beats a relentless rhythm, a grim reminder of the unresolved past. “I didn’t think I’d find solace in seeing you like this,” I say, my voice carrying a note of grim satisfaction. “But perhaps I do.”

Her lips curl into a cruel, mocking smile. “You think this is justice? You think you’ve won some grand victory?”

Rhodes stands silently beside me, his face a mask of stoicism. I can sense the undercurrent of tension between us, the shared history and unresolved anger that binds us together in this grim task.

Our mother’s gaze shifts to Rhodes. “Still the silent, brooding warrior, I see. Does your silence hide a heart as cold as mine?”

He doesn’t respond, but his clenched jaw betrays the turmoil within. Our mother’s presence stirs old wounds, but I force myself to stay focused on our objective.

“You’re here for information,” she says, her voice dripping with sinister amusement. “But you’ll find nothing but disappointment. My plans are beyond your comprehension.”

“I’m certain you’re right,” I reply, my voice steady despite the undercurrents of anger and fear. “But I need to hear it from you. What are you planning?”

A dark, twisted laugh escapes her lips, echoing off the stone walls. “You still don’t understand the true scope of what’s coming. My sisters—the other witches—they are being reborn. They will come to reclaim their place, and I will rise with them.”

Rhodes frowns deeply. “Keira’s wards are impenetrable. There’s no way they can reach you.”

Our mother’s laugh grows more intense, more deranged. “Keiran didn’t receive his Black Pearl, did he? I would have felt it if he had. His efforts are futile.”

I step closer, my gaze hardening. “You’ll never escape this prison.”

“Oh, not in this body,” she says, her voice dropping to a whisper, filled with dark, foreboding tones. “But in spirit, I am free. My sisters will summon me anew from the Cauldron. We will bring forth a new era of chaos.”

Rhodes and I exchange a worried glance. The idea seems far-fetched—unless...

Suddenly, a chill permeates the room, an unnatural cold that wraps around us like a vise. The temperature plummets, and the walls seem to shiver with the encroaching frost. I feel it—a creeping dread that gnaws at my insides. My breath forms ghostly tendrils in the icy air.

The shadows on the walls begin to shift, coalescing into dark, swirling mists. Her form starts to waver, the solid lines of her figure blurring as if she’s dissolving into the very darkness that surrounds us. The mist thickens, wrapping around her like a living shroud.

My heart pounds furiously, an instinctive terror rising within me. The very air seems to twist and buckle, as if the chamber itself is rebelling against the unnatural phenomenon. The swirling mist grows denser, and the light from our torches struggles to pierce through the thickening fog.

Her eyes, still sharp and piercing, lock onto mine as her body becomes increasingly insubstantial. Her voice, now a haunting whisper, drifts through the mist. “You cannot escape your destiny. The Cauldron’s power will reshape everything.”

A sudden gust of wind howls through the chamber, extinguishing our torches and plunging us into darkness. The only light is the eerie, ghostly glow emanating from the mist. The chilling fog wraps around me, suffocating and disorienting. My senses are overwhelmed by the oppressive cold and the sense of something profoundly wrong.

I reach out, my fingers brushing against the shifting mist, but it slips through my grasp like smoke. Her laughter rings out, a cacophony of madness that reverberates through the chamber. The sound is both near and distant, echoing from every corner, filling the space with a nightmarish resonance.

Rhodes’s hand grips my shoulder, his touch grounding me amid the chaos. “Kallias!” he shouts, his voice barely audible over the din. “We need to get out!”

The mist swirls violently, and the temperature drops further. My vision blurs as I struggle to navigate through the shifting fog. The sensation of being pulled into the mist is almost physical, a terrible force that threatens to consume us.

As her form vanishes completely, the mist begins to retract, pulling back into the void from which it came. The temperature slowly returns to normal, but the oppressive feeling of dread lingers. The chamber is left in a state of eerie silence, the remnants of the mist hanging in the air like a fading ghost.

Rhodes and I stand in the aftermath, our breaths heavy and ragged. The sensation of her disappearance—her complete dissolution into the mist—leaves me with a profound sense of unease. It’s as if she’s not just gone but has become part of the very darkness that surrounds us.

“Damn it,” I mutter, my voice a low growl. “We need to inform Keiran immediately. This changes everything.”

Rhodes nods, his face set in grim determination. “We need to investigate further. There may be more truth to her words than we want to believe...If her sisters are truly rising, we must be prepared for what’s to come.”
The Midnight King
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