Luxanna hadn't been walking long when she spotted a white building crowned with wing-like dragon sculptures.
MageSeeker Headquarters.
"Please, let me in! My son—he doesn't even know magic!"
At the entrance, a dressed man pleaded with the guards, desperation etched across his face.
"Back off," one of the Mage Seeker soldiers barked.
His expression remained cold behind the iron helm.
"Only those with orders may enter."
Not far from the gate, Luxanna stood watching, a faint frown on her lips.
Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed in her mind, full of dry amusement:
[Isn't it time to go, Luxanna?]
She hesitated before replying mentally, her voice low:
"If his son is in there… he wouldn't want his father to see him like this."
Her tone was uncertain. The sunlight caught her blonde hair, but it didn't gleam like usual—more like the dull glint of gold left too long in the dark.
She carefully avoided the topic.
The man eventually turned and walked away, shoulders heavy with regret.
Once he was out of sight, Luxanna stepped forward.
"Miss Crownguard!"
The previously indifferent soldier straightened and saluted her, his tone full of deference.
"I'd like to go to the dungeon," she said quietly.
"Do I need formal clearance?"
Her uncle Eldred oversaw this facility. He'd given her written authorization before she left.
"You may come and go as you please, Miss Crownguard."
The soldier smiled deferentially and opened the heavy door behind him, calling the announcement down the hall.
"Yeah… I can come and go as I please," Luxanna muttered, a bitter edge to her voice.
She forced a half-smile and stepped through the gate.
A man in distinct armor approached with a brisk trot.
His uniform set him apart from the outer guards—he was an officer.
"Kuris, Captain of the First Shield of the Mage Seekers. At your service, Miss Crownguard."
He saluted respectfully, hand over heart.
Luxanna gave a polite nod. Her voice was soft, deliberate:
"Captain Kuris… I'm here on Illuminator duties."
Officially, she was still considered a trainee Illuminator.
This was her first time inside the Mage Seeker headquarters; until now, her family had kept her away from the front lines, confined to comforting the families of the accused.
She had seen enough sorrow to make her fear her powers.
But… she had her teacher.
Without his guidance, she wasn't sure where she would've ended up.
Certainly not here. Certainly not whole.
Her gaze dropped, and she clutched the book in her arms tightly.
In this place, it felt like the only thing keeping her grounded.
Kuris remained composed, gesturing toward the corridor with a practiced formality.
"I'll escort you to the dungeon, Miss Crownguard. Please be careful. Their magic may be suppressed, but their words are not."
"I understand."
She followed him silently.
The headquarters sprawled wide, part barracks, training ground, and prison—a crucible for recruits, a tomb for mages.
Luxanna took in her surroundings, trying to memorize the layout.
"Captain Kuris… what's that building over there?"
She pointed to a square, heavily guarded structure nearby.
"That's the Secret Archive, Miss Crownguard," Kuris replied.
"Secret Archive?"
"A vault of restricted mage texts and magical records."
"But… aren't those supposed to be destroyed?" Luxanna asked, brows furrowed.
She'd always been told that mage writings—even flawed or half-baked theories—were seized and burned.
Kuris paused slightly, then answered with the same respectful tone:
"We study them. The better we understand magic, the better we can contain it."
"Right… understand magic."
Luxanna said no more. She followed quietly, though her thoughts were restless.
He's a mage.
She knew now. Kuris was a mage suppressing his power with Petricite.
Petricite potions could tamp down one's magic, but the effects were temporary… and the side effects weren't minor.
She'd once considered using it herself, before she met her teacher.
She shuddered to think where she'd be without that guidance—her light magic dulled to nothing in front of the Seekers.
"Miss Crownguard. We've arrived."
Kuris stopped before a stone structure sealed tight.
The air around it felt heavy with suppression.
The building was built entirely of Petricite, save for the entrance.
Even if the mages inside rioted, they wouldn't get far.
No decoration. No mercy. Just a stairway leading down into shadow.
After a few words with the guards, Kuris waved her through. She nodded to the sentries and descended alone.
The stone walls were thick and cold. Torches flickered wearily, barely lighting the way.
Each step echoed like a heartbeat.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
The deeper she went, the darker it grew. The damper. The more still.
She paused as she neared the lowest level.
Even from here, she could hear the screams.
Kuris stopped behind her, head bowed, silent.
It wasn't his first time guiding someone like her into this place.
What surprised him was that she only hesitated momentarily, then resumed walking at the same measured pace.
"Thank you, Captain Kuris," Luxanna said, forcing a smile.
"Let's go."
"Yes, Miss Crownguard."
He quickly caught up, his face unreadable, his posture respectful.
"There are many dangerous individuals in the dungeon," Kuris said as they walked.
"To prevent future retaliation against Demacia, we sometimes need to take… special measures."
Luxanna nodded slowly, then asked in a quiet voice, "I thought they were all being sent inland?"
Demacia didn't execute mages casually—only those who committed unforgivable crimes faced that fate.
For most, exile was the standard sentence.
Many dependent territories, including Norchemurch, accepted these "relocated" mages.
But Luxanna had heard troubling things—stories of these mages being treated as little more than slaves, controlled, beaten, abused by their new "masters."
In truth, these mages weren't simply exiled. They were sold.
And the Crownguard family was one of the largest beneficiaries of that unspoken trade.
Suppressing her expression, Luxanna kept walking beside Kuris as they entered the dungeon proper.
Her presence alone seemed to ignite the entire space.
Dozens of imprisoned mages stirred. Some dragged themselves to their feet, stumbling toward the bars.
Hollow-eyed, starved, desperate—pleading.
"Miss… Lady… please, something to eat…"
"Highborn, please, I don't have magic—I swear!"
"My lady! Let me out! I'm innocent!"
Their voices overlapped, chaotic and raw, crashing against her ears like waves in a storm.
Luxanna's chest tightened.
"This is the holding block," Kuris explained.
"Everyone here is awaiting trial."
"So… they haven't been convicted of anything yet?" Luxanna asked, her voice calm but pointed.
"They haven't confessed, but the evidence is usually sound," Kuris replied flatly.
He knew her reputation. Kindhearted. Idealistic.
He didn't want her getting any dangerous ideas.
"Is that so…"
Luxanna said nothing more, her gaze sweeping across the cells.
They looked like corpses in waiting—starved, trembling, huddled in corners.
Some couldn't even stand. Her throat constricted at the sight.
She averted her eyes and gestured to the descending stairwell.
"There's more than one level?"
"Yes," Kuris said with a slight grimace.
"Below are the ones we've confirmed as highly dangerous. Suspected of deep demonic corruption."
Luxanna looked toward the stairwell.
"May I go down and take a look?"
It sounded like a request, but her tone left no room for refusal.
Kuris gave a slight nod and stepped aside to let her pass.
But she turned back just as she placed a foot on the first step.
"Captain Kuris. I have a small request."
He stopped and bowed slightly. "Please speak, Miss Crownguard."
"These are in the holding block… they haven't been tried yet, correct?"
Kuris understood what she was asking. He nodded.
"Then they're still citizens of Demacia. Shouldn't they have food? A coat to keep warm?"
Her voice was soft, her expression composed, her smile calm and gentle.
"Miss Crownguard, breaking their spirits—"
"Captain Kuris," she cut in gently, "I think the Crownguard family can afford the cost."
Kuris fell silent.
He turned to look at her, this young noble girl standing alone in the flickering torchlight, her blonde hair glowing pale gold, her smile resolute and warm.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then, without a word, he turned toward the guards and prisoners.
"You all heard her. Count yourselves fortunate. You've met the benevolent Miss Crownguard."
He turned to the guards. "Prepare food. And get everyone here a coat."
"Yes, sir!"
The soldiers moved quickly. Behind them, the cells erupted in grateful cries.
"Praise the Crownguards!"
"Thank you, Miss Crownguard!"
"Bless you, Lady!"
"Such kindness…"
Their words came in waves—gratitude rising and cresting like the tide.
But Luxanna didn't smile. She kept her eyes down, a faint grimace on her lips.
Where's the thanks in this?
They shouldn't be here at all.
[Are you planning to come here often?]
The familiar voice sounded in her mind, teasing but thoughtful.
Luxanna didn't respond. She resumed her steps, descending into the depths below with Kuris close behind.
"Teacher, I've decided to come here every other day. Too many people need help."
["Luxanna,"] the voice echoed in her mind, patient and wise, ["people can only redeem themselves. Your task is only to give them hope."]
"But…" she hesitated.
[There's nothing wrong with your actions. But this place is different. Push too far, and the balance will tip.]
"Balance?" Luxanna frowned.
[In Demacia, the Crownguards are not the only powerful family. And your recent actions have not gone unnoticed. If you're seen coming here too often… what do you think the other nobles will say?]
Luxanna paused, her brow furrowed.
"They'll say I'm trying to win the mages over, meddling in my uncle's affairs. That the Crownguard family has... other ambitions."
She understood all too well what her teacher meant.
Good deeds didn't always look like good deeds to others.
And in politics, perception was often more powerful than truth.
"But… I am kind. Everyone knows that. Can't I just come because I care?"
Her thoughts quickened as she walked down the steps. There had to be a way.
[I didn't say you shouldn't come. Just not too often. If you need to spend time somewhere, the Pavilion has the records you need. Go read. It will help.]
Luxanna quietly committed the advice to memory and nodded in the dim dungeon air.
Everything needed to move slowly. Carefully.
She remembered her teacher's warning.
"Here, Miss Crownguard."
Kuris's voice broke through the silence ahead.
Even without the warning, she could tell they had arrived—the screams here were different. Sharper. More broken.
The room resembled the previous cell block, but there were fewer cells.
The hall narrowed, ending at a reinforced door flanked by two heavily armed guards.
Clearly, whatever lay beyond was important. Dangerous.
Luxanna glanced at the nearby cells. The prisoners here were different.
Most were restrained with heavy chains.
Some stared blankly into space, rocking gently.
Others lay curled up in corners, whispering nonsense to themselves.
Madness. Trauma.
Her stomach twisted, but she said nothing.
When she looked at Kuris, he met her gaze silently, then shook his head.
"These prisoners… they're beyond help. No food, no coats. They're being transferred soon."
"I understand," Luxanna replied with a forced smile.
She knew what Kuris meant: Eldred didn't want her getting too close to these people.
Not them.
She took a breath and nodded toward the iron door.
"And behind that?"
She already had an idea. The teacher had guided her here for a reason.
Kuris stiffened. "That… that's someone you don't need to meet, Miss Crownguard."
"Oh? I haven't heard of anyone special being held here."
The teacher had told her that what lay beyond that door was the real reason for her visit.
"You can't—"
"Captain Kuris," she interrupted firmly, "tell me who it is."
Kuris hesitated. Her voice had changed—sharp and commanding. He flinched instinctively.
"Silas. From Biangou Town. He's... the most dangerous prisoner we've ever captured."
"I want to see him," Luxanna said calmly.
"I've heard his name. I want to see for myself."
Kuris opened his mouth to argue, but she was already pulling out a sealed note.
"This is a direct order from the Grand Marshal. I have full clearance. And surely, there's nothing in Demacia that must be hidden, is there?"
Kuris took the note. The Crownguard crest was real.
So was Tiana's private seal.
He sighed, then turned to the guards.
"Open the door. Miss Crownguard enters alone."
The heavy iron door groaned open.
Luxanna glanced back at Kuris with a faint smile.
"Thank you, Captain."
"Please, Miss Crownguard… just don't say you were here."
"I understand."
She stepped through.
Bang.
The door slammed shut behind her. Darkness wrapped around her, save for the flickering light of the torch in her hand.
She walked forward slowly.
The chamber was far larger than expected—easily the size of four or five standard cells.
But in the center was just one solitary cage, like a lone island in a black sea.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
Chains shifted, echoing in the chamber.
She raised the torch.
And then she saw him.
A tall, muscular man stood within the cell, unkempt, bare-chested, skin darkened by grime and time.
But his eyes—bright, sharp, predatory—pierced the gloom like blades.
A wolf in a man's body.
Their eyes met.
Luxanna didn't look away.
Her gaze drifted to the iron shackles bound to his arms. The harsh metal clanked as he moved.
"You… not... a Mageseeker."
His voice was hoarse, as if unused for months—maybe years.
"I'm not," Luxanna said softly.
Her demeanor had changed entirely. The warmth from earlier had vanished.
She was poised now, cold and regal, her beauty untouchable.
"Then… who are you?" the man rasped.
"What… do you want?"
"I'm no one. I came to see a poor, forgotten soul."
Silas of Brink. The most infamous mage in Demacian custody.
Once a Mageseeker himself.
Until he murdered a fellow soldier and vanished, only to be captured after months of bloody pursuit.
The official story was simple.
But Luxanna knew stories had layers. And truths beneath truths.
The teacher would not have sent her otherwise.
"Poor?" Silas laughed—a bitter, broken sound.
He coughed halfway through, his lungs dry and rattling.
"Hah… hah! Yes. Poor bastard. That's me."
"We're the same," he muttered, "but I'm in here. And you're out there."
Luxanna said nothing for a moment. Then replied, cool and deliberate:
"Exactly."
She wasn't trained to handle people like him. But she didn't need to be.
She had the teacher.
Sliding the torch into the wall mount, she opened the book and fixed her gaze on Silas.
The teacher had said:
To tame a beast…
First, make it fear you.