The carriage returned to the city, passing the bailiff's mansion before coming to a stop in front of a three-story building.
They both climbed down, with Livron leading the way toward the entrance. A guard stepped forward and pulled the gate open for them.
Vincent paused for a moment, scanning the surroundings, before following the bailiff inside. He trailed silently through the back entrance and down into the dungeon. The faint stench of death and suffering lingered in the air.
The guard at the entrance turned to them. "My lord, the man is in there." He pointed toward a cell beside them.
"Is he still talking?" the bailiff asked.
"To himself, yes. But no one understands what he is saying."
"Very well." Livron let out a weary sigh before turning to the Viscount. "We don't know what he is capable of, so we must proceed with caution."
Vincent hummed. "Open the gate. You two can wait over there."
The guard moved quickly, unlocking the heavy chains securing the cell door. It fell with a dull thud before creaking open just wide enough for the Viscount to enter.
Vincent collected a torch from the guard and fixed it to the wall, illuminating the dim space as he stepped further inside. The room was small, with a narrow window high above that offered little light.
His eyes finally landed on the man curled in a corner, his body trembling as his lips moved rapidly. He did not seem aware of Vincent's presence.
His face was hollow, his skin marked with bruises and dried blood. His lips were cracked from dehydration.
Vincent moved closer and crouched slightly.
"What did you do, Philip?" he asked calmly. His voice echoed through the cell.
But the man was far too gone... or perhaps not.
"Why did you murder your wife and young children? And dabble in magic too?"
That finally got his attention. He stilled for a few seconds before slowly lifting his gaze to the Viscount.
He gasped audibly, fear flashing in his eyes. "My... my lord," he managed to say.
Vincent smiled faintly. He rose to his feet, dragged a chair from the corner of the room, and positioned it in front of the man before lowering himself onto it.
"There is much you need to say. I suggest you begin now."
Philip swallowed hard, his eyes darting aimlessly around the room. Sweat already coated his skin.
He dropped to his knees, hands clasped together in desperation. "I... I don't know what happened. She... she tricked me. She made me into a monster. I would never hurt my wife and children. I love them."
Vincent reached into his pocket, pulled out the amulet, and placed it on the table between them.
Philip's eyes widened further, terror multiplying instantly. His entire body trembled as sweat drenched his skin.
"I suggest you start speaking clearly and coherently now."
The Viscount's tone sent a visible shiver down his spine.
"I didn't want to do it," Philip rushed out. "I wanted her to be my mistress. I only wanted her to make Zenna oblivious to our affair. She tricked me. I didn't want any of this..."
"Who is she?" Vincent interrupted sharply.
Philip swallowed again, wiping his face with shaking hands. "Iris. I met her at a tavern when I went out for a drink. It was... love at first sight—for both of us. She was devastated when I told her I was married. I... I must have subconsciously told her I wanted to be with her, but I didn't want to lose my family."
"That was when she offered me the amulet," he continued shakily. "She said it could grant my wish. At first, it worked. Zenna truly didn't notice anything, even when I mistakenly called her Iris one night. Everything happened so fast. One moment I was fine, and the next... I was an animal."
"Possessed by the devil himself. Something snapped in me, and before I could make sense of it..."
His voice broke. Tears spilled freely down his face.
"...they were all dead. I... I killed my family."
Philip collapsed into sobs, shaking uncontrollably.
"The woman—what did she look like? And which tavern did you meet her in?"
The man coughed violently, striking his chest twice as his head hung low.
"The one near the market square," he rasped. "Forgive me, my lord... I cannot remember her face... or anything else about her."
Vincent had expected as much. Whoever had orchestrated this would not have left such an easy trail. He slipped the amulet back into his pocket and rose to his feet.
"You have committed treason against Nox by engaging in the use of forbidden magic. You have also taken innocent lives out of greed and selfish desire. For that, you are hereby sentenced to death by public execution at dawn."
His voice remained calm, almost detached.
"Your execution will serve as a reminder to anyone foolish enough to repeat your mistakes. You will burn in the depths of hell for eternity—and I will make certain of it."
Vincent turned away from the weeping man and walked out of the cell. "Follow me. I have something to tell you," he said to the bailiff, who immediately followed.
Once they stepped back into the sunlight and fresh air, Vincent turned to him. "I assume you heard everything."
Livron nodded.
"Very well. I need you to find out who this 'Iris' woman is and how she came into contact with a sorcerer. Search the taverns, brothels, suspicious houses, and the outskirts of Hassille. She must be found—one way or another."
Livron bowed. "Very well, my lord. We will begin immediately."
"Good. I will return to the house."
"Of course. I will join you once I am done with my affairs."
"Very well."
Vincent turned away and stepped into the carriage, which was already waiting with its door open. As soon as he settled inside, the door shut and the carriage rolled forward.
A thousand thoughts churned in his mind. Vincent had always known this day would come—a day when rules would be broken and chaos would begin to spread. If only those who invited chaos understood what a nightmare magic truly was, they would have run far away from it.