The iron door groaned open, its rusted hinges screaming like a dying beast. Beyond it, the torchlight from the corridor spilled into the dungeon, cutting through decades of darkness. But the elves inside didn’t move.
They stared at the empty threshold as if it were an illusion, a trick meant to lure them into some deeper cruelty. A teenage girl curled tighter in the corner, her skeletal fingers digging into the rotten straw beneath her. An older male, his face a map of scars, clenched his jaw so hard Eon could hear his teeth grind.
He carefully got close to them. Freedom might be terrifying for them, when you’ve only known chains for decades.
He didn’t push them. The kind of hesitation they were showing toward him, he knew very well. How your mind plays tricks with you when you’ve been cornered by beasts. His own past had taught him that.
“Elsa,” he said quietly, “help those who can’t stand.”
She moved without question, sliding an arm around the waist of a gaunt elf whose ankles looked like they’d been broken and poorly reset years ago. Verra, for once, held her tongue, her sharp eyes scanning the prisoners with something close to pity rather than disdain.
Eon reached into his satchel. The clay vials he brought with him were warm against his fingers, their golden contents swirling like liquid sunlight. He’d refined these from rare herbs, each drop packed with nutrients that would heal their cuts and minor wounds and even make their recovery rate faster.
He knelt beside the silver-haired elf, the one who had spoken to him earlier. Her hands shook so violently the vial nearly slipped through her fingers when he gave one vial to her.
“Drink this,” he said. “It won’t fix everything, but it will give you the strength to walk.”
She stared at him, her milky eyes flickering between his face and the potion. Then, slowly, she lifted it to her lips.
The moment the liquid touched her tongue, her entire body stiffened. A gasp tore from her throat, something between a sob and a laugh.
It wasn’t like the bitter slop the Denares guards forced down their throats. This tasted like summer rain on sun-warmed stone, like honey dripping from wildflowers. The color drained from her face as the potion worked its way through her veins, then rushed back in a flush of life. The rattling cough that had been shaking her chest for years just… stopped. She exhaled, then exhaled again, as if remembering how to breathe.
Tears cut clean tracks down her grime-streaked cheeks.
She didn’t thank him. She couldn’t. Instead, she reached up with hands that had once been elegant, now twisted and knotted, and pressed her forehead against the back of Eon’s hand, not in submission, but in something deeper. Gratitude. Maybe even Trust.
He moved through the group one by one. To the teenage girl in the corner, her lips were blue from fever; he gave her another vial. Her shivering stopped mid-tremor, her dull eyes flickering back to life as embers stirred to flame.
To the man missing most of his left ear, he offered the next. The elf hesitated at first, his gaze darting to Verra’s weapons, before finally drinking. He let out a broken, disbelieving laugh when the pain in his shoulders eased.
One by one, they rose when Eon gave them his potions.
The atmosphere in the dungeon shifted. The chains still jangled as they moved, but now the sound was different, not the hollow clatter of despair, but the determined rattle of people claiming their lives back.
Verra stepped forward without being asked, hauling a weakened woman over her shoulder with effortless strength. Elsa supported another; her face was unreadable, but her grip steady on the woman she was supporting to walk toward Eon.
Eon reached for the last vial in his satchel….But there was none left. He found only empty leather.
His fingers curled into a fist. ‘Damn it. There are more elves here than I thought.’
There were still elves here. A family huddled together, a single mother clutching her child’s wasted frame. Their eyes were on him, patient but desperate.
“I’m out,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
Elsa glanced up from the elf she was supporting. “Then do you need more ingredients?”
“Yes, I might need to make more potions,” Eon agreed, his mind already racing. “Not just for them, but for the dark elf Edmund mentioned earlier.” His jaw tightened. “If she’s as dangerous as he said, I’ll need something stronger to stabilize her.”
The group fell silent at that.
Verra’s grip tightened imperceptibly on the woman she was carrying. Elsa’s expression darkened.
Eon exhaled through his nose.
First, they would get the prisoners clean. Then, he would make sure no one in this godforsaken Estate ever chained an elf again.
***
Martha tossed the pouch in her hand like she was weighing gold, and in a way, she was. The Titan’s Breath potion inside was a small fortune in crimson liquid, thick as syrup and swirling with an unnatural energy. She flicked her thumb over the vial’s stopper, eyeing Eon.
"Fifty gold?" She arched a brow. "You’re sure someone will bite with this price?"
Eon’s smirk didn’t reach his eyes. "Soldiers, mercenaries, mages all of them are looking for an edge; they’ll pay it just to prove they can." His gaze sharpened. "But don’t let them talk you down."
Kaelen, already bouncing on his heels, reached for the list Martha handed him. His face fell when he scanned it. "Cinnabar? Crucibles? What am I supposed to do, charm the blacksmiths into giving us their tools?"
Martha snatched the parchment back before he could wrinkle it. "You’re there to make sure no one slits my throat while I haggle." She tucked it into her bodice, patting the spot where the potion vial nestled against her ribs. "We’re dealing with Denares territories men, liars, cutthroats, and the occasional honorable fool. Don’t trust any of them."
Eon stepped closer, lowering his voice. "And as I had said, if you see Blue-root extract, buy every scrap of it." When Kaelen opened his mouth, Eon cut him off with a look. "Martha knows what I mean."
She did. The unspoken part of the order settled between them, a backup plan in case Alaric’s cooperation crumbled.
Kaelen huffed. "Fine. But if we run into trouble…."
"We won’t," Martha interrupted, rolling her eyes. "Because you’re watching our backs, remember?"
He joked about her. "Yeah, like anybody needs to protect you!"
She smacked his arm. "Move it. We’ve got a market to empty."
***
The Denares marketplace was a sprawl of tents and brick stalls, crowded with soldiers off-duty, merchants in furs, and nobles idling like bored wolves. The scent of roasting meat and incense battled with the tang of sweat and iron. Martha wove through the press with Kaelen trailing behind, his hand never far from his sword.
She stopped at the first stall displaying potions, glowing elixirs in delicate vials, none half as potent as what she carried. The merchant, a woman with silver-streaked braids, eyed Martha’s boots before her face.
"Looking for something?" the woman asked.
Martha held up the pouch, just enough to flash the crimson liquid inside. The merchant’s eyes widened. She licked her lips. "You wouldn’t be interested in parting with that, would you?"
Martha smirked. "It depends. I’m here to buy. Not just sell."
The merchant woman gave a wry smile at her.
**
By midday, they had acquired most of the list, bundles of Silver-leaf Sage reeking of metallic bitterness, high-carbon iron ingots stamped with the Denares crest, and the hard-to-find Cinnabar, its dust staining their fingers. But they still have not found any Blue-root.
Then, in the shade of a woven awning, Martha spotted it, a small casket labeled "Arcane Botanicals," its contents guarded by a gaunt man in stained robes. She elbowed Kaelen. "There."
Seeing Martha approaching him, the gaunt man gave a sharp smile at her. "Blue-root is a rare commodity, my lady."
Martha slid onto the crate beside him, resting her arm on the casket like she owned it. "Rare, you say. Let’s see how rare your blue-root is!"
Author note: This novel was my first novel, so back then I used to make many mistakes. Maybe that's why, even though there were many ratings, there were no reviews.
If the latest chapters suit your palate even a little, then please give this novel a good review (if you are willing). I would greatly appreciate your effort if you do so. Making a novel like this even without English being my first language is a lot more work than one might imagine. So, seeing people appreciate my work is the major motivation for me to keep going currently. Hope you guys help me become a better writer than I am now by keeping me motivated with reviews and comments. That is the only thread I'm holding on to right now to push myself.