Chapter 11 #3
"We're leaving," Patir said firmly, pulling me back the way we had come. "Right now."
This time I let him drag me away, my mind too consumed by Sayven’s words to resist, though the maniacal laughter followed us until we reached the higher levels.
By the time we reached the upper levels, my hands were shaking so violently I could barely hold them steady.
The stone walls around us felt like they were pressing closer with each step, and I couldn't shake the feeling that shadows were reaching for me from every corner.
Each step away from Sayven's cell should have brought relief, but instead his words echoed in my mind with the weight of terrible truth.
They're here. In the cells below.
Could it really be possible? Could Marcus and the others have tracked me all the way to this hidden mountain city?
My heart hammered against my ribs at the thought, hope and terror warring in my chest. If they were truly here, if they had somehow found me against all odds, then everything changed. But if Taveth discovered them...
I remembered his words in the garden, the cold promise in his voice: I would hate to see you cry when I tore them apart.
"My lady," Patir said quietly as we reached a more familiar corridor. "What that thing said down there—about your other mates being here—you can't trust anything that comes from the deep cells. The madness makes them say terrible things, cruel things designed to hurt you."
I wanted to believe him, wanted to dismiss Sayven's words as the ravings of a broken mind. But the certainty in that cultured voice, the specific details he'd known about dragon bonds and mating marks... How could a madman locked away in the depths know such things unless they were true?
“What happened to him?"
"Sayven was a good man once," Patir said, his voice barely audible.
"Honourable, just, everything a shadow mage should be.
He was so strong with the power that he lasted many years before the madness claimed him.
But when it finally happened, it wasn't gradual like the others. It happened all at once."
“It wasn’t gradual?”
Patir shook his head. "He snapped during a routine training session in the hall.
Killed an entire squad of his own men, but not quickly.
He tortured them, tore them apart piece by piece while they screamed for mercy.
The darkness showed him exactly how to cause the most pain, how to keep them alive and aware for as long as possible. "
"How was he stopped?" I managed to ask.
"His own son had to bind him," Patir said. "He was a shadow mage too, not as powerful as his father back then but skilled enough. It took him and six other mages working together to contain Sayven, and even then, it was barely enough. He's been down here for eight years now."
"Does he ever have good days like the others?"
"No." Patir's voice was flat, final. "The others still have glimmers of who they were, memories of their families, moments of recognition.
This one... this one is pure evil. Whatever Sayven used to be died the day he broke.
What's left is just hunger and malice wearing his face.
Now we need to leave, my Lady. It isn't good to be down here for long. "
But I was frozen in place, staring down the stone steps into that impenetrable darkness. "Do all shadow mages become like this eventually?"
"Yes," Patir said simply. "All of them. The more they use their powers, the faster it happens. It's the fate that awaits every person born with shadow magic. The power always wins in the end."
The full horror of what he was saying crashed over me like a wave. Taveth. This was what was going to happen to Taveth. The man who claimed to love me, who showed me tenderness even as he held me captive, was destined to become something like the monster lurking in that cell ahead.
I thought of the moments I had seen darkness flicker across Taveth's features, the way his eyes sometimes burned white when his power surged.
The headaches he tried to hide, the way his hands trembled when he thought I wasn't looking.
Signs I had dismissed as stress or exhaustion suddenly took on a terrifying new meaning.
"How long does someone usually last?" I whispered.
"It varies. Those with greater power burn out faster, but they also tend to fight the madness longer. A weak mage might succumb in five years, while someone like Sayven lasted decades. But Lord Taveth..." Patir trailed off, realizing what he was implying.
"How long does he have?"
Patir wouldn't meet my eyes. "He's been using his power heavily lately. The war with the Empire, the demands of leadership, and now..." He glanced at me meaningfully. "Strong emotions accelerate the process. Love, hate, fear—they all feed the darkness."
I felt sick. "How long?"
"Maybe months," Patir said quietly. "Maybe less."
Patir escorted me back to my chambers, his face grave with the weight of what he had shown me.
"I'm sorry you had to see that," he said as we reached my door. "But you need to understand what our people face, what Lord Taveth faces. We're not monsters by choice, my lady. We're victims of a curse that demands everything we are in exchange for the power to protect those we love."
After he left, I sat on my bed and stared at my hands, trying to process everything I had witnessed.
Below me, in the depths of the temple, forty-three people lived out their days as shadows of their former selves, their humanity sacrificed to keep their people safe.
And somewhere among them, in the deepest darkness, something that had once been a good man now existed as pure malevolence.
This was Taveth's future. This was what awaited the man who held me captive and yet somehow made me feel safer than I had in years. In a few months, maybe less, he would be just another broken mind in a cell, and I would be left to mourn the person he used to be.
The shadows in my room seemed darker now, more alive, as if they were already reaching for him with hungry fingers. And for the first time since my capture, I found myself truly afraid—not of Taveth, but for him.