I'm with you again?!

A long minute passed before Lucas moved forward, flanked by four Wolfguards—two men and two women. Each of them had exchanged their secondary uniforms for the standard regulation attire: crisp white trousers adorned with gleaming gold medals, each one unique, a reflection of their years of service. The others wore fitted black pants with hard leather belts cinched tightly at the waist. Lucas himself wore a simple, buttoned navy blue shirt, embroidered with fine gold patterns, paired with black trousers and a matching belt.

His face was unreadable—blank, almost indifferent—despite the silent confidence he tried to carry. Internally, however, his mind churned. Seeing his brother again stirred an unsettling mix of resentment and confusion. He couldn’t quite understand why. Perhaps he had never wanted to see him return at all.

They began to descend the staircase. With each step, the light from above dimmed, swallowed gradually by the darkness below. Eventually, one of the male Wolfguards spotted a torch conveniently placed on a wall bracket along the passage—likely set there in preparation for such a descent. He took it, lighting the path ahead as he led them through the corridor.

The group moved steadily, passing rows of prison cells. Each door was a slab of concrete, thick and immovable, fitted with narrow, barred windows that revealed nothing but shadows within. As they continued, they arrived at a door unlike the others—larger, heavier, gleaming with patches of iron that caught the faint light and gave off a cold silver sheen.

The two male guards stepped forward. One reached for the door and pulled it open with effort, stepping aside to hold it. The two female guards followed suit, making way for Lucas to enter.

Lucas stepped inside calmly, his face firm and composed. As he entered, one of the Wolfguards shut the door behind him with a resonant clang.

Dmitri sat on a plain bed, his back turned, staring silently at the cement wall. He made no effort to acknowledge Lucas’s presence. The room itself was larger than most of the cells—likely a concession, perhaps even a courtesy—but still bleak. A bed, a closet, a single table with one chair, and a small bathroom. Cement walls boxed him in. The only source of light came from a narrow, barred window high on the wall.

“Nice place,” Lucas remarked with dry sarcasm, his eyes scanning the room.

Dmitri turned his head slowly, the motion deliberate, reluctant. His face was expressionless.

“The old bastard didn’t come with you?” he asked in a flat, dry voice.

Lucas shifted his gaze to him, lips curling slightly.

“Father?” he echoed with a short laugh.

“No,” Dmitri replied, his tone sharp and unamused.

Lucas paused for a moment, letting the words hang as he pieced together the implication.

“Right,” he murmured.

“Afraid not. Thanks to you, he’s currently enjoying a sweet little moment with the fox woman,” Lucas added, bitterness cutting through his voice.

“Catherine,” Dmitri replied evenly.

Lucas didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he strolled toward the closet, leaning casually against it with his hands in his pockets, eyes locked on his brother.

“When I saw her for the first time in over a thousand years,” Dmitri began, voice quieter now, “I saw something different. Her soul had aged, yes… but the essence was still the same.”

“Did you bring her here?” Lucas asked sharply.

Dmitri raised an eyebrow and allowed himself a faint smile.

“Bring her? Why would I go to such lengths to drag a stranger into this place?”

Lucas narrowed his eyes. “Because the moment we met her, you made quite an entrée remarquée,” he retorted, a cold edge in his voice.

Dmitri looked him over with slow deliberation, then looked away, the smile still faint on his lips.

“Baseless,” he muttered.

Lucas didn’t believe a word of it. He watched Dmitri closely, studying the subtle expressions he wasn’t saying aloud.

“Is that all you came to ask me?” Dmitri sighed. “If so, I don’t have the energy for your games.”

Lucas didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he offered something else.

“On my way through the woods, I came across a woman. Dangerous type. Silver hair. Sharp eyes. Tried to kill me. But she’s still got a long way to go.”

“Misty,” Dmitri said flatly. “So she’s dead, then?”

Lucas tilted his head. “Was she one of yours?”

Dmitri let out a breathless, irritated laugh, turning his head away again.

“No one belongs to me,” he said, the irritation rising in his voice. “Not Catherine. Not Misty.”

“If you’re here to satisfy your curiosity, then I’m not interested.” He waved a hand dismissively and turned away from Lucas, sitting on the edge of the bed, his back once again to his brother.

Lucas’s expression hardened.

“I guess the obedient little puppy is long gone,” he said. “Which is why I’m here.”

He gave the room one last look, then turned toward the door, pulled it open, and walked out without another word—shutting it firmly behind him.

Lucas walked with a brisk pace, the Wolfguards following closely behind. His face had settled into a blank expression, though his mind raced with thoughts.

"Sir, did he reveal his true motives?" one of the male guards asked.

"Quiet," a female guard snapped sharply.

"This isn't the place to discuss it," she added firmly.

Lucas let out a faint snicker. "He’s got issues. And a temper, too."

Without another word, he picked up his pace. The Wolfguards exchanged glances, but quickly followed as he moved forward with purpose.

Amid the chaotic aftermath in the palace, Barbara pushed her way through the crowd. The streets buzzed with noise—people bickering, shouting, some blocking the path while others made room. She moved anxiously, making her way toward the direction of Sergei’s home.

As she scanned the crowd, her eyes lit up at a familiar figure ahead.

"Macy?" she called, her eyes fluttering with recognition.

Macy didn’t notice at first. Her gaze was low, focused on carefully weaving through the crowd.

"Macy!" Barbara called again, louder this time.

Lifting her head, Macy’s face changed instantly when she recognized her friend.

"Barb?!" she called back, a smile spreading across her face as she pushed her way toward her.

Barbara shifted to the edge of the street to escape the crush of people, and Macy followed her lead.

“Frickin’ God, girl,” Macy muttered under her breath.

"Where the hell have you been?"

“I just left the palace. I’m looking for Sergei,” Barbara replied breathlessly.

“Sergei? Oh, I saw him earlier, passed by him actually,” Macy said, thinking back.

“Where did he go?” Barbara asked, her urgency showing.

“He went that way.” Macy gestured subtly. “Looked kind of anxious. At first, I thought he might be looking for you.”

Barbara paused, her mind suddenly running with possibilities. “Looking for me?” she echoed, but quickly shrugged it off. “Well... thanks for that, Macy.”

Macy nodded and stepped aside to let her pass.

“Be careful!” she called out as Barbara hurried away down the street.

Lucas emerged from the prison tower, casting a glance over his shoulder to see the Wolfguards still at his heels.

“You’re dismissed for now,” he said curtly. “Do as you wish—I have other matters to attend to.”

“But sir,” a female guard interjected, “the people need you here for the palace’s reconstruction. Your abilities are invaluable.”

“And with His Majesty absent,” a male guard added, “your presence is crucial during this crisis.”

“I won’t be gone long,” Lucas replied dryly, already turning on his heel. Without waiting for another word, he walked off at a faster pace.

“Sir!”

“Your Royal Highness!”

He ignored their calls and pressed on, disappearing into the distance.

“Where are you headed now, sir?” Mina asked as she walked beside Wilbert.

“Home, perhaps. There’s something I need to take care of,” Wilbert replied calmly.

“May I ask you something?” she said.

“Of course.”

“Don’t you find it strange—how easily he was taken down? Especially now that he’s back?” Mina asked, brows furrowing.

Wilbert gave it some thought. “He let his guard down when Lady Catherine’s condition... malfunctioned,” he said thoughtfully.

“I guess you’re right, sir. But I still have a bad feeling about all this,” Mina said, uneasily.

“We’ll have answers once everything clears,” Wilbert assured her.

Mina gave a small nod. But as they walked, she suddenly stopped mid-step. A distinct scent reached her nose—familiar, strong, and oddly out of place. Wilbert noticed her hesitation and turned.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

Mina slowly lifted her head, her gaze shifting toward a small complex home nearby. The scent was leading her there—she recognized it, but it was stronger than she remembered.

Wilbert followed her line of sight, frowning slightly at the building.

“It’s nothing,” Mina said after a moment, forcing a small smile. “I should probably head home.”

Wilbert didn’t press her, but he kept his eyes on the small house, something about it gnawing at his instincts.

“I’ll see you around, sir,” Mina said, excusing herself as she turned and walked away, leaving Wilbert quietly watching after her.

"Ngh, Ugh.." Her eyes, closed in pleasure, reflected the raw intensity of the moment. Her hair, a wild cascade, mirrored the abandon with which she rode, throwing her head back, a primal scream of delight torn from her lips. Pleasure and pain intertwined as she moved with unbridled speed.

Lucas, equally unclothed, gazed down at her, his hands gripping her hips as she took him in. A low mumble of pleasure escaped his lips as they moved in a synchronized rhythm, filling the air with the heady scent of their shared ecstasy.

"Your Royal Highness," she whispered, her voice a mix of weakness and desire, "push harder."

Lucas smirked, his gaze unwavering, his pace unbroken. With a swift motion, he switched positions, pushing her down to accommodate him from behind. A slow grin spread across his face as he entered her from the rear.

Soft, weak moans of pleasure escaped her as Lucas maintained his relentless rhythm, his grin fixed on her hips. He admired her body with a possessive desire, murmuring low sounds as he moved faster and faster.

"You look perfect like this," Lucas commented, a sly smirk playing on his lips, his eyes filled with raw desire.

She chuckled softly at his words. "Say that to me again, honey," she pleaded, her groans intensifying with each thrust. Lucas's pace shifted, subtle then fast, slow then quick, mirroring the rising crescendo of her pleasure.

Catherine paused on the nearby street, catching her breath after a long walk. She crossed her arms, her head bowed. "Shit," she muttered, then "Fuck!" A deep sigh escaped her as she fought to regain her composure, the journey back to her street feeling endless.

"I wish I could transform into a fox right now," she grumbled, "I'd be so much faster."

She glanced up at the street sign in the distance. The road was lined with gates of various homes, interspersed with small shops and local businesses. Cars were neatly parked, and people bustled by, their chatter filling the air.

Catherine's mind drifted back to her recent ordeal. Exhaustion, hunger, and fatigue were her immediate sensations, but then came the wave of memories: the heavy ache in her chest as she recalled the last sight of Aunt Cassie and Amy on the plane.

"I wish you were still home," she whispered, closing her eyes, trying to muster courage. With a steady, calm motion, she began to walk, emptying her mind, each step slow and deliberate. She shut out everything—the blurring visions, the chattering voices, the rumble of vehicles—nothing could disturb her. Her clothes were ragged, a testament to her time in the wolf lands. She didn't notice how close she was getting to her home gate, or how her pace was quickening, even though her mind insisted she was moving slowly.

She stopped, staring at the tall, rusty grey gates that partially concealed their humble house. Memories flooded her, a wave of nostalgic yearning washing over her. Her face was set, yet her eyes betrayed her, a glimmer of tears, then another, despite her stern expression.

Catherine stood immobile, like a forgotten doll, some passersby casting curious glances, others oblivious. She paid them no mind, lost in her own world. Taking another step, then another, she stood before the gates. Head bowed, she pushed them open, entered, and slowly closed them behind her. As she turned, her eyes widened.

Lucas lay naked on the bed, a soft white blanket covering his lower body. He picked up a glass of champagne from the bedside table and took a sip, his eyes relaxed but his mind elsewhere.

"Honey, nice of you to stopped by," a woman said, emerging from the bathroom, a slight smile on her face as she buttoned a long, navy blue oversized polo. "My, is it fucked-up out there? Now that your brother's back…" She walked to the window, then glanced at Lucas, her expression unreadable.

"Honey, I know why you came back for the second time," she said, a flirtatious tone in her voice.

"Don't get too comfortable," Lucas shot back, his gaze fixed on her.

She met his gaze, her face still impassive.

"I came to check things out around here, even the people," Lucas said firmly, sipping his champagne. "I have a hunch there might be some infectious monster here."

"What?" she chuckled wryly.

"I have to go. Thanks for your kind service," Lucas said, setting his champagne glass down. He swung his legs out of bed, grabbing his pants from the floor and quickly pulling them on.

"I know you'll come back for a third time," she said, her smile hopeful.

Lucas zipped his pants, composing himself. He turned to her, his expression disinterested.

"Can I bring Dmitri? Can you give a discount?" he asked slyly.

Her smile remained, but a flicker of annoyance crossed her eyes, unnoticed by him.

With that, Lucas turned and headed for the door. "You can keep the shirt, sell it or whatever," he said with a wave, then grabbed the doorknob, pushed it open, and exited, closing the door softly behind him.

Barbara’s eyes were fixed straight ahead as she walked, the familiar path stretching out before her. She stopped abruptly, a strange, unpleasant odor catching her attention and wrinkling her nose. The smell was out of place, and as she paused, she finally recognized the street.

Wait, this is Sergei’s block, she realized.

"What the hell is that smell?" she

muttered, a look of discomfort on her face.

Shrugging it off for a moment, she turned and saw Sergei's apartment building. A smile lit up her face, and she approached without hesitation, stopping at his door to knock.

"Sergei, the fight is over. Are you there?" Barbara called, rapping her knuckles against the wood.

Silence.

She knocked again, waiting.

Still no response.

A third time. Nothing.

Her eyebrows furrowed with impatience. Deciding to try one last time, she called out his name again, her knock more insistent. "Sergei!"

With a sigh, she instinctively tried the doorknob. To her surprise, it turned. The door had been unlocked the entire time. She stepped back, a flicker of relief washing over her surprise. He must be home.

Barbara pushed the door open and stepped inside. The strange smell from earlier was stronger now, thick in the dark, silent apartment. This wasn't what she had expected at all.

"Sergei!" she called out, closing the door behind her. She fumbled along the wall, searching for a light switch. Finding it near the door, she flicked it on, her unease growing. "Sergei! It's me," she called again.

"Do you smell that?"

The continued silence was unnerving. She scanned the main room before deciding to check the bedrooms. She went to Sergei’s first, pushing the door open. The stench hit her with full force.

Barbara’s eyes widened. It was the scent of a person, but not just anyone. It was a scent she recognized, though she couldn't quite place it. It was different from their usual crowd, leaving her to wonder.

Is this...

The sound of the front door opening cut through her thoughts. Her head snapped around, distracted by the footsteps and the sense of someone new entering the apartment.

"Sergei!" she called out, turning to meet him.

"Barb?" Sergei’s voice responded as he closed the door. He stopped when he saw her, his eyebrows raising in surprise before his expression softened into a welcoming smile.

Barbara approached, crossing her arms.

"Where have you been?"

"Oh, I was... Is the fight over?"

"Yeah," she said, her voice laced with annoyance. "And where were you when a war nearly broke out at the palace?"

Sergei paused, his mind clearly racing.

"No, I..." he mumbled. "I was there. I mean, the captain ordered me to do something!"

"Which captain?" Barbara pressed. "All the captains were at the palace during that catastrophe."

"Yeah, when I lost you," he said, stalling.

"Captain, uh... Captain Averin." He seized the name. "Yes, him!"

"Sir Averin?" Barbara repeated.

Sergei nodded.

"What did he ask you to do?"

"He..." Sergei hesitated, then said smoothly, "He wanted me to go to his family and inform them about the situation."

They stood in silence for a long moment, the air thick with unspoken questions.

Barbara's expression shifted. Her gaze drifted back to the bedroom where the strange scent lingered. She stared at the doorway, her curiosity piqued.

"Sergei," she said, her voice flat.

"Yeah?" he replied, following her gaze.

The casual atmosphere between them had evaporated, replaced by something tense and uncertain. Barbara could feel it.

"Have you," she began, her words slow and firm as she turned to meet his eyes,

"brought a woman to your place?"

"Jasper?!" Catherine stammered, taking an involuntary step back.

He stood there awkwardly, seemingly trying to figure out what to say first.

"What the—" Catherine muttered, confused. "Shouldn't you be at the palace right now?"

Jasper looked away for a moment before meeting her gaze again. "I can't go back," he said firmly.

"Huh?" Catherine replied, the word escaping before she could stop it.

He nodded. "When I tried to use the teleportation activation spell, the portal wouldn't recognize me. It was like I was no longer a citizen of my own land."

Catherine stared at him, trying to process his explanation. "I tried again," he continued. "For a second, I thought it worked, but when I stepped through... I just ended up here. Where I'm standing now."

"But why?" Catherine's voice rose slightly.

"How convenient that you just 'end up' where I live."

"Your world," Jasper began, a hint of wonder in his voice, "it resembles mine, back home."

Catherine let out a dry, annoyed chuckle. "Life is life, no matter the reality. There's always politics, society, all of it."

A minute of silence passed between them.

"Jasper," Catherine said, breaking the quiet.

"It's 'Your Majesty'," he corrected, a playful glint in his eyes.

Catherine's brow furrowed. "I don't give a shit. You're in my world now, so I'm the boss."

A small smile touched Jasper's lips as he looked down.

"How the tables have turned. In your world, I'm not an emperor, just a commoner. A stranger." He looked up, his expression turning more formal.

"But I want to be clear. I will try to return again tomorrow. I have no desire to stay long; my people need me."

"I don't want you here either," Catherine retorted.

Jasper simply stared, offering no reply. Catherine turned away, planting her hands on her hips. She closed her eyes in frustration, her lips pursed as she weighed her options.

Should I let this bastard stay?

What if he's some monster just waiting for me to let my guard down?

Shit, what do I do?

He has nowhere to go, but is that my problem?!

"Is something the matter?" Jasper asked, his tone still casual despite his formal posture.

"Yeah," Catherine said, turning back to him.

"You."

"I understand your frustration," Jasper offered. "But I assure you, I will be gone as soon as I can. Besides, while I am here, I can make myself useful."

"Are you trying to make a deal with me?"

"Take it as you will. It is not my style to be a burden to anyone, especially if that someone is..." he paused briefly.

"A woman."

"Fine," Catherine finally decided. "As an emperor yourself, I'm sure you understand what is and is not acceptable. So, if you try anything funny..."

"Such as?" Jasper asked, a genuinely puzzled look on his face.

Catherine paused to think. "I don't know, probably some weird shit that men do."

Jasper chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

"An astonishing misunderstanding."

"I'll let you stay," Catherine stated firmly.

"But I won't hold back if you do something you'll regret."

Jasper listened and nodded. "Thank you."

Catherine gave him a short nod in return and sighed. "Follow me." She walked past him toward the front door, reaching for the knob to pull it open before she froze.

"Oh, shit," she muttered, a new realization dawning.

"Aunt Cassie has the keys."

"What?!" Sergei replied in disbelief.

"I smell a woman in your room," Barbara demanded, her eyes widening with annoyance. "So, tell me, who is she?"

Sergei scoffed. "I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't brought anyone here, not even my closest friends."

"I'm not talking about your friends," Barbara argued. "I'm talking about the scent of a woman."

"Look," Sergei said, trying to calm himself and clear the air. "I swear to you, I didn't bring anyone here. I promise." He paused, searching for a plausible explanation.

"What you're smelling is probably just the old walls of my apartment. This place is ancient, isn't it?" he reasoned, hoping to pacify her. "Besides, how can you be so sure it's a woman?"

Barbara fell silent for a moment, a small smirk forming on her lips as she crossed her arms and stared him down.

"You know," she began, her voice dripping with newfound realization, "I just figured out why I don't like this scent." She paused for dramatic effect.

"It's because I now realize this isn't just any woman."

"Let's not fight about this," Sergei pleaded, his voice laced with desperation.

"I told you, there's no one else."

"What was her name again?" Barbara mused aloud, her tone cocky. "Gosh, it's on the tip of my tongue."

Sergei froze, a wave of nervousness washing over him. He was speechless, his mind racing with the worst possible outcomes.

"What are you trying to say?" he asked, his voice cracking, becoming higher and thinner with each word.

Catherine released her hand from the doorknob and turned to face Jasper. "We have a problem," she said with a calm urgency.

Jasper glanced at the door behind her and then back at her. "Is there another way in?" he asked.

Catherine furrowed her brow. "No, as you can see, my house isn't quite as grand as yours. This is the only entrance."

"What about the windows?" Jasper suggested, approaching one and peering through the blinds and flowered shades that obscured the view inside. He placed his hand flat against the glass, remaining perfectly still.

"What are you doing?" Catherine asked, walking towards him.

In an instant, the glass dissolved into a liquid state, sliding down the frame in a rush of water. Catherine leaped back as the spell unfolded, narrowly avoiding the splash that soaked Jasper's clothes.

"Holy shit," Catherine muttered, staring in awe. "Just how many powers do you have?"

Jasper stepped back, pulling his hand away and turning to her. "Ladies first," he said, gesturing for her to enter.

Catherine's expression shifted. "Of course," she said with a touch of bravado.

"It is my house, after all." After a moment of determined anticipation, she took a dramatic dive through the open window, landing face-first on the floor inside.

"Ugh," she groaned.

Jasper stared down at her, his expression unreadable. He carefully stepped over the windowsill, right foot first, and gracefully lowered his tall frame into the room.

A small, embarrassed laugh escaped Catherine's lips as she slowly pushed herself up from the floor. She looked at Jasper, who still hadn't reacted.

"Could you at least laugh with me?" she asked, a mix of annoyance and embarrassment in her voice.

Jasper sighed, looking away with a slight shrug. He tucked his hands behind his back and walked past her, settling carefully onto a nearby sofa as his eyes scanned the room, taking in every detail.

Catherine let out an exasperated "tsk" and, after composing herself, marched over to him and slapped his shoulder. Jasper's head snapped towards her instantly.

"Don't just get comfortable," she said firmly. "You're filthy. The rule in my house is if you've been outside, you get cleaned up and change your clothes before you sit or lie down anywhere."

Jasper looked at her, a flicker of confusion in his eyes.

"Well, don't just sit there," Catherine demanded. "Go to the bathroom."

He reluctantly stood up, his arms now crossed, a bored expression on his face.

"And where might that be?" he asked formally.

"Follow me," Catherine said, turning and leading him towards a tall, white door at the end of a short hallway. She stopped and turned back to face him.

Catherine pointed a finger toward the door, her expression blank.

Jasper gave her a brief glance before walking past her. He opened the bathroom door, then paused, peering back at her through the crack as if he was about to say something.

"I'll get you some clothes, after you shower," Catherine said, anticipating his question.

Jasper simply nodded and then closed the door, leaving Catherine alone in the hallway.

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Barbara and Sergei simply stared at one another, the conversation dead.

"I have to go," Barbara finally said, her voice tight. She brushed past him, her arms crossed defensively over her chest.

Sergei remained rooted to the spot, turning only to watch her walk away. A heavy sigh escaped his lips.

"Barb!" he called out.

She didn't stop.

"Barbara!" he tried again, a little louder this time.

But she had already reached the door. The knob turned, the door swung open, and just as quickly, it clicked shut behind her. She was gone, leaving Sergei alone in the echoing silence without a word of explanation. He watched the closed door, an annoyed sigh puffing his cheeks. He hadn't expected this, not at all.

As the quiet settled in, Sergei's gaze drifted towards the corner of the hall, towards his room. He paused, a thought taking root. Had Barbara really left? Or...

"Catherine," he called out, his voice a normal, quiet tone.

No response.

"Catherine," he said again, adding a slight edge to it.

When only silence answered, his patience wore thin. He strode to the door he suspected she was behind, the one to his own room. He gripped the cool metal of the doorknob, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.

The room was empty.

A frown creased Sergei's brow as he scanned the space, searching for any sign of her. "Catherine, where are you hiding?" he murmured, stepping further into the room. He started with the bed, kneeling to peer into the dark space underneath.

He was greeted by nothing but dust bunnies and forgotten dirt.

Straightening up, he moved to the closet, pulling both handles at once. The doors swung open to reveal... nothing.

Where is she? he thought, closing the closet doors. He stood motionless for a moment, his mind racing.

 Did she... did she leave before Barbara found her?

Elsewhere, Lucas lent his strength to the wolfguards, their combined magic weaving a tapestry of reconstruction over the palace's scarred exterior. Hands outstretched, they channeled their energy, the shimmering magic flowing over scorched stone and splintered wood, erasing the imperfections left by the devastating fire. The damage was severe, and the work was slow and painstaking.

From another section of the sprawling palace, Delphine and Eddie added their own spells to the effort, mending the crumbled, burned-out sections of the building.

"Jasper has been gone for hours. I'm worried," Delphine whispered to Eddie, her voice laced with anxiety.

"Your Highness, perhaps it would be best if you went home for now. We'll take care of this," Eddie suggested gently.

"What?" Delphine muttered, her expression unconvinced.

"I'm not going anywhere until I know Jasper is safe, and until the palace is finished."

"Please, Princess," Eddie pleaded. "If His Majesty were here, he would ask the same of you. We can't trouble you with this any longer. Your family must be worried sick."

Delphine's expression was a storm of conflict. She took a moment, chewing on her lower lip as she considered his words.

Dmitri sat alone in his cell, his back resting against the cold stone as he stared blankly at the iron-barred door before him. Boredom was a heavy cloak, and he remained perfectly still, lost in the monotonous silence. Then, a memory surfaced, flashing brightly against the dim reality of his prison.

He was young again, strolling through the sun-drenched palace gardens. A man popular with the court, he offered a friendly smile and a wave to every servant and guard he passed.

"Dmitri, is it?" a young woman's voice called from behind him.

He turned, a smooth smile already on his lips as he took her hand, bowing to press a polite kiss to her knuckles. "At your service, my lady."

"Oh, I recognize you now," he said with a small nod. "You're with my brother, aren't you?"

"I am, your Royal Highness." 

"His Royal Highness is waiting for you in the palace halls," she reported, her own lavish gown shimmering with pearls and intricate embroidery.

"Which one, my lady?" Dmitri asked, his smile unwavering.

She hesitated for a moment. "Oh, um... the one who tends to be loud. And a bit harsh sometimes."

A soft chuckle escaped him as he nodded in understanding. "Ah, that one," he said with easy recognition. "Very well. Thank you for taking the trouble to find me, my lady. You're dismissed. I can handle it from here." He gave her one last charming smile.

"Dmitri."

The memory shattered. The voice that called his name was not the woman's from the garden, but a deep, gravelly rasp, like that of a crippled old hound. It cut through his thoughts, and his gaze shifted to the empty corner of his cell.

"Dmitri."

He realized the voice wasn't coming from the corner, but from inside his own head. A slow, knowing smirk touched his lips as he turned his attention back to the door.

"Took you long enough to call," Dmitri said to the empty air.

"Nice work," the deep voice replied, a disembodied presence in his mind. "I'll take it from here."

"How about helping me out of here first?" Dmitri countered, his tone laced with impatience.

"Patience," the voice commanded, silencing him. "It's not time. You know the plan. Wait for the signal."