CHAPTER 8: the carrot and the stick.

  Aeon

  Stepping through the portal, I felt the air shift around me. My breath hitched as the world beyond unfolded—a sprawling metropolis of towering spires, their golden hues glistening under the midday sun. We had crossed half the world in an instant, the shift in day and night was evident. Bridges of intricate stone and metal arched over shimmering canals, while airships drifted lazily above like floating sentinels. At the city's heart, a massive castle loomed, its grandeur undeniable, exuding an aura of authority and power.

  Ziyong and his companion led us forward, weaving through the bustling streets. My mind churned with questions, but the most pressing forced its way past my lips.

  “How did you even find us? Are you planning to harvest us?” My voice was steadier than I expected, though unease twisted in my gut.

  Ziyong barely glanced at me, amusement flickering in his golden eyes. “Do I look like I need whatever power boost you could provide?” His tone was almost mocking. “As for how we found you—tracking magic. Finding things is easy when you know what to look for.”

  His gaze sharpened, locking onto me. “And for why you’re here. There’s a prophecy. It speaks of a Tranhilyan without magic—the only one of his kind. The Goddess of Life has chosen him. And he alone can break her chains.” His lips curled slightly. “You matched the description, so we came looking.”

  His words settled over me like a weight I wasn’t ready to bear. I was still struggling to accept that magic even existed, let alone that some ancient prophecy might be about me. The sheer absurdity of it almost made me laugh.

  Ziyong walked ahead beside his massive ally, showing no concern about us trying to escape. Either he was overconfident, or he was an idiot.

  A vendor pushed a cart of steaming street food past us. To my disbelief, Ziyong and his ally rushed toward it like children spotting an ice cream truck.

  They were actually distracted.

  I caught Artou’s eye, signaling that this was our chance. But the fear in his expression stopped me. His posture was rigid, his fists clenched. He knew something I didn’t—something about divine blessings, about how strong Ziyong really was. And whatever it was, it was enough to keep him frozen in place.

  I exhaled sharply. We weren’t getting out of this. Not yet.

  A shop selling enchanted prosthetics caught my attention. Ziyong was still busy stuffing his face, so I approached, eyes scanning the display.

  My right arm burned with a dull ache, a constant reminder of how crude and outdated it was. The limbs on display were sleek, finely crafted, humming with magic.

  I stepped closer. “Show me your strongest right arm.”

  The shopkeeper, a wiry elf with a knowing smirk, pulled out a sleek, black-metal prosthetic. “This,” he said, placing it on the counter with care, “is the Breaker. Reinforced with enchanted steel. Strong enough to shatter stone, and with the right enchantments, it can fire magical blasts.” He glanced at my current arm and snorted. “An improvement over… whatever that thing is.”

  I ignored the insult, reaching out to inspect the craftsmanship.

  Then, I felt it.

  A presence.

  Someone was watching me.

  A figure stood nearby, hood drawn low.

  The wind shifted, and for the briefest moment, her hood slipped back. My breath caught.

  She had ruby-red hair that shimmered under the city’s glow, cascading over her shoulders in waves. Her delicate features were sharp yet soft, and her vivid green eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my chest tighten.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Then, just as quickly, she pulled the hood back over her face.

  “It’s really you,” she whispered, barely audible over the hum of the market. “I’ll find a way to get you out of here.”

  Before I could respond, she melted into the crowd, vanishing as if she had never been there.

  I barely had time to process what had just happened before Ziyong appeared beside me, hands full of snacks. He looked down at the prosthetic and scoffed. “If you prove to be the one we’re looking for, you’ll have access to things way better than this crap.”

  He didn’t seem concerned about me running. He didn’t treat us like prisoners. But that didn’t mean we weren’t trapped.

  I followed as he continued walking, though my mind was elsewhere.

  Who was that elf? And how did she know I needed saving?

  The castle loomed ahead, its towering gates pulsing with latent power. As we approached, Ziyong called out, and with a low groan, the massive doors creaked open, revealing a vast courtyard beyond.

  A female elf, starkly out of place among the armored guards, stepped forward. She wore a pristine lab coat, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. She studied me for a moment before speaking.

  “The promised Tranhilyan,” she murmured. Her tone was clinical, detached. Then her gaze flickered to Artou. “And who’s this?”

  Ziyong shrugged. “Another Tranhilyan. He was with the one you wanted, so I figured he might be useful.” His impatience was evident. “Can I leave now?”

  The elf sighed. “I’m Lanet, a researcher here at the castle. I’ll be overseeing your stay.” She adjusted her glasses before continuing. “You must have questions. Have you heard of the Goddess of Life’s prophecy?”

  Artou scoffed. “We heard a version of it. But do you seriously think Aeon is the one? He has no magic. How is he supposed to break anything, let alone some goddess’s chains?”

  Lanet’s expression remained unreadable. “That’s exactly why we believe it’s him. Every Tranhilyan we’ve encountered possessed magic. All except him. That makes him… unique.”

  She gestured for us to follow as she led us through the castle’s lavish halls. “If you truly are the chosen one,” she continued, “you’ll have a place in the elven army. Whether or not we believe in the prophecy, we all have an interest in using its power. Should you succeed, you’ll be rewarded beyond imagination. A life of privilege, power—perhaps even equal to the blessing holders themselves.”

  She stopped in front of a grand set of doors and pushed them open, revealing a luxurious chamber. “Rest here for now, we will speak tomorrow.”

  Artou let out a sharp breath. His hands clenched into fists. “We escaped one nightmare just to walk into another.”

  “Is this place really that bad?” I asked, though my mind was still fixated on the red-haired elf. She had said she would get us out.

  Artou’s expression darkened. “It’s just a fa?ade. Elves always show you their good side first—before they stab you in the back.”

  Fighting back wasn’t an option. The elves were too strong, and there were armies here. If Artou was right, our only hope was that mysterious elf. Our meeting had been brief, but something in her voice told me she meant every word.

  That night, we debated escape plans. None seemed viable. Exhaustion finally won out, and I drifted into uneasy sleep.

  A loud creak jolted me awake.

  The door swung open, revealing Lanet. This time, she wasn’t alone. Ziyong stood beside her, along with the hulking beast-man who had accompanied him before. But there was another figure—a shorter, hooded presence that exuded something… unnatural.

  Lanet’s voice was unnervingly calm. “Right now, you don’t seem to have anything special about you. This is how we determine if you are the chosen one.”

  The hooded figure stepped forward. “I can unlock your true potential.”

  Artou stiffened. “Just like that?” His voice was wary, confused.

  The hooded figure ignored him, placing a hand on my back and murmuring something in a language I didn’t recognize. I didn’t resist.

  The moment passed. He removed his hand and moved to Artou, repeating the process.

  I frowned. “I don’t feel any different.”

  “Oh, it won’t activate immediately,” Lanet said, unfazed. “To unlock your true potential, you need to be in a state where you really need it. Like, say… a fight. A moment where you’re at death’s door.”

  Artou’s jaw tightened. “So, what—you’re just going to almost kill us and hope our power shows up?” His voice was filled with irritation.

  “Correct,” Lanet answered, as if discussing a simple experiment. “Many people go through it. Some awaken something great. Some… don’t.”

  A cold weight settled in my gut. “And if we don’t show what you’re looking for?”

  Lanet gave a small, unreadable smile. “Let’s just hope, if that happens, you won’t be too close to death.”

  And just like that, I saw it. The truth beneath their polished words. The mask had finally slipped.

  Hesitation weighed heavy on my chest. I didn’t want trouble, not here, not now. My gaze flickered to Artou, searching for some silent agreement, some reassurance that we should tread carefully. But what I saw unsettled me. His eyes gleamed with something raw, something eager.

  “My true potential…” he muttered under his breath, barely containing his excitement.

  A dark truth gnawed at the back of my mind. Artou had always sought power, had never hesitated to cross lines others wouldn’t dare approach. He had planned to kill one of his own—just to grow stronger. But why? That, I never truly understood. And maybe I never asked because I didn’t want to know. The charms he had given me before had dulled my thoughts, made me push those questions aside.

  But now, there was no looking away.

  I clenched my fists, but I knew there was no fight to be had—not yet. Without a word, I stepped forward, following them into the unknown.