Luke's Bargain

The dungeon reeked of wet iron and despair. Moss clung to the stones like old scabs, sweating under the torchlight. The silence wasn’t silence at all—it was made up of things better left unnamed: a muffled sob in some far-off cell, the steady drip of water, the scurrying of vermin that fed on what the Black Maw left behind.

Luke sat on the cold ground, arms wrapped tight around his knees. His chest rose and fell too quickly, as though the walls themselves were choking him. Seraphina was gone. Dragged into the commander’s clutches. And Michael… Michael was still there beside him, but only in flesh. His body slumped against the bars, his gaze empty, hollow, nothing but a vessel abandoned by its owner.

Luke pressed his palms to his face. “Think, dammit. Think.” His voice cracked against the stone.

The commander’s words rattled in his skull: Make your choice, boy. Life or loyalty.

He wanted to laugh, but it came out strangled. Life? What kind of life was this? Shackled in a world he never asked to enter, death hunting him at every corner, even the air tasting of finality. He’d nearly died more times than he could count, and every time, the hand that pulled him back felt more like a curse than a blessing.

But he wasn’t going to die here. Not in this hole. Not in a world that didn’t even have the decency to exist in his memory before swallowing him whole.

His head snapped toward Michael. The man’s lips were slightly parted, dry and cracked, but no breath of will passed through. Still, Luke remembered something—the way Michael had whispered, barely audible, before Seraphina was dragged away.

“Vrekh’na Morra en shan’tal.”

Luke mouthed the words now, as though tasting them might grant them meaning. “Vrekh’na… Morra… en shan’tal.”

He tried again, drawing on the lessons Seraphina had drilled into him. The Draekirn language is more than just words. It carried a certain resonance. A mantra. A memory. It was a key.

“Alive… dead… you are… friend.”

The translation clicked like tumblers in his skull, and his eyes widened. He remembered the story Uriel had told Seraphina, the night they whispered in their cell before the commander came. How he and Michael had gone separate ways, bound by words they refused to let rot with time.

It wasn’t just a phrase. It was a vow.

Luke crawled closer, clutching the bars that separated them. “Michael. You hear me? You’re still here. You lost him, I get that—but you’re not gone too. You can’t be. Not when she’s out there. You don’t get to check out. Not while I still have to breathe the same air as you.”

For a long moment, Michael didn’t move. Then his shoulders twitched, a shiver rippling down his spine like something half-buried clawing its way out. His hand slammed against the bars with sudden violence, and Luke recoiled.

Michael’s eyes snapped open. Bloodshot. Ferocious. Alive.

His voice was a growl, raw as if dragged from the depths of his soul. “What happened?”

Luke swallowed. “The commander. He took Seraphina. Uriel’s… gone. But you’re still here. And so am I.”

Michael clenched his jaw, a storm flickering behind his eyes. For a heartbeat, he seemed lost, like a man waking from a battlefield he didn’t remember joining. Then he exhaled, controlled, the air humming faintly as if the very walls resonated with the Kairon coiled within him.

“Keys,” he muttered. “We’ll need keys.”

Luke blinked. “Keys? That’s your plan?”

Michael’s lips curled into something between a smirk and a snarl. “No. That’s the beginning.”

##   ###   ##

It didn’t take long. Luke did the talking, feigning obedience when the gaoler came by to check the locks.

“I’ve made my choice,” Luke told him, voice steady despite the bile rising in his throat. “The commander was right. I don’t want to die in a cage for people I barely know.”

The gaoler smirked, leaning in. “Smart boy.”

That was when Michael struck. A blur of motion, the sound of bone cracking under knuckles enhanced with Kairon resonance. Luke was stunned by the sheer speed of the strike. The gaoler crumpled, keys jangling uselessly from his belt until Michael snatched them free.

Luke’s pulse thundered in his ears. “Holy hell, you could’ve warned me!”

Michael didn’t answer. His focus was absolute. The cuffs clicked loose, one after the other. When Luke panicked at the sight of the still-locked gate, Michael only pressed his palms to the iron and let the Kairon flow.

The bars groaned, bending like softened wax under impossible strength. Sparks danced along his veins, veins glowing faintly with the telltale shimmer of resonance. With a final grunt, the gate snapped wide enough for them to slip through.

Luke stumbled out, his voice caught between awe and terror. “You… bent steel.”

Michael adjusted the gaoler’s blade at his hip, his face carved from stone. “I told you. The keys were just the beginning.”

##   ###   ##

They moved through the corridors like shadows, Luke’s heartbeat the only sound he could hear besides the distant drip of water and the occasional wet thud of Michael’s blade silencing another guard. Kairon energy laced every strike, bodies dropping before they could cry out.

They found Seraphina in a room reeking of incense and blood. She was bound to a chair, her wrists bruised where the rope bit deep. Commander Veyne stood behind her, knife grazing her throat with all the casual menace of a man buttering bread.

“Well,” Veyne drawled, his voice smooth as oil, “look who found his way to the land of the living.” His eyes flicked between Michael and Luke. “Tell me, did the boy drag you here, or did you finally remember you had a spine?”

Michael said nothing, his expression unreadable.

Luke stepped forward, forcing a grin, though his stomach twisted into knots. “You want information? Fine. I’ll give it to you. The map to the Enchiridion. I know where it is.”

Seraphina’s head snapped toward him, eyes blazing. “Luke, don’t—”

“Quiet,” Veyne hissed, pressing the blade harder against her skin.

Michael glared at Luke, confused. “What are you doing?” he whispered.

Luke held his ground, meeting the commander’s gaze. “It’s near the valley. The one crawling with Morzbeasts. That’s why they chose it. The one place you’ll never look.”

For the first time, Veyne’s smirk faltered.

Luke’s grin widened. “You wanted my choice? That’s it. A bargain. You let us walk, I take you there. You get your prize, we get our freedom. Everyone wins.”

The silence stretched, thick as a hanging rope. Then Veyne laughed, low and sharp, like a blade sliding free of its sheath.

“Very well, boy. Let’s see if you’re half as clever as you think you are.”

And with a snap of his fingers, the room flooded with Black Maw soldiers.

Michael tightened his grip on the blade. Seraphina glared at Luke, betrayal burning in her eyes. And Luke, pulse racing, prayed his lie was big enough to keep them alive one more night.

##   ###   ##

*Vrekh’na Morra en shan’tal - "Alive or dead, you are my friend"
*Draekirn - A common language that is spoken by Seraphina, Michael Uriel and the guards
*Morzbeast - A creature created by the Vicar