On the morning following the chaos Daniel had ignited in the palace, he was still fast asleep, his body half-naked as usual, his features wrapped in a deceptive calm.
He felt the lightness of footsteps sneaking into his room. He didn't need to see who was coming; he had grown used to the rhythm of her feet. It was Kara, walking lightly as if afraid of waking a blazing memory, not a sleeping body.
Daniel opened his eyes quietly, gazed at her steadily, then spoke in his deep voice:
"Is it time?"
She nodded, replying with a heavy voice soaked in sorrow:
"Yes, my lord... the guards are waiting behind the door, to take you to the cell."
She struggled to hide the tremble in her tone. Last night, she had wept silently in her room, feeling the weight of the imminent loss, not knowing if this was the final farewell... or if fate would grant her his return, alive.
Daniel rose from bed with ease and headed to the bathroom. Half an hour later, he emerged, wet-bodied, half-naked as he had entered, waiting for Kara to care for him as always — and she did.
They left the room to find four guards clad in armor and bristling with weapons, led by Marcus. But the atmosphere was thick with tension; not only because of Daniel's actions the day before, but because of the majestic, terrifying aura that had begun to envelop him lately.
He advanced with confident steps, ignoring their wary glances and the anxiety hidden within their silence. The guards lined the corridor, opening the way for him as if paving the road for a death march.
When they reached the entrance to the cell... Kara froze in shock.
She had imagined a conventional prison four walls and iron bars... but it was nothing of the sort.
It was a deep pit beneath the ground, more like a well, yet far wider and darker closer to the gaping mouth of a cave swallowed by the earth itself.
Beside the pit stood an ancient wooden winch, wound with thick ropes, from which hung a large metal basket barely fit for one person maybe two at most.
Marcus spoke sharply, his voice cold and rigid:
"Step into the basket. It will take you to the bottom. The basket will descend again in one week, at the same time, with food. If you miss it... wait another week."
Daniel didn't utter a word. He simply moved toward the basket.
Peering inside, he found enough food for ten people for three days, which made him frown in annoyance. He stepped in, and Marcus approached to whisper something to the guards... and the descent began.
As he lowered down, he saw something gleaming falling toward him from above. He dodged at the last moment.
The object landed in the basket. He reached out and caught it... it was a dagger or rather a small, double-edged blade, finely sharpened.
Daniel looked up and saw Marcus staring down at him with a loaded expression, mixing hatred, regret, and submission. Daniel instantly understood the meaning behind the gaze.
Two messages no more:
Someone wanted him dead... and someone else had offered him a chance to survive.
When he reached the bottom of the cell, he stood, examining the place with calm eyes. It resembled a network of caves, filled with narrow passages, suffocating dampness, and the shadows of death.
Suddenly, human phantoms emerged from the darkness men and women, in tattered clothes, with pale bodies and vacant eyes.
They approached him cautiously, overtaken by curiosity and astonishment. No one had entered this pit in years, and now here stood a young man handsome, well-dressed, exuding a majesty unlike them... more befitting a king.
They stared at him with hungry eyes... especially the women, whose gazes turned into mirrors of lust, and the men into wolves sniffing a prey yet untouched by the mud.
One of the women screamed:
"He's mine! None of you can have him!"
She lunged at him like an arrow, her short hair flying, her eyes blazing with madness... she reached out to push him down, to claim him for herself .
But she froze suddenly. A fountain of blood burst from her mouth, and she collapsed a dagger buried in her heart.
Others rushed at him, driven by the same savage desire, and all met the same fate.
In just ten seconds, ten bodies had fallen, their blood silently streaming like a hellish river across the cell floor.
Silence reigned.
Even the dead still bore expressions of astonishment, as if unaware they had died.
In his hand, Daniel held the dagger dripping blood.
The others recoiled... one step back, then another.
Then, an elderly man stepped forward his body still muscular despite his age, his hair a faded white, and his eyes gleaming with cunning.
He spoke, his tongue dripping venom:
"Your noble look fooled us... we thought you pampered. But if you step away from the basket and leave the food to us, we'll let you keep the dagger... and take a cave to live among us."
But Daniel didn't only hear the words. He heard the beating of their hearts, smelled betrayal in their breaths. He knew they were the most dangerous of killers and rapists... scum who had long lost any sense of humanity.
He studied them for a moment, then said with a killer's calm:
"Agreed. But I want no interference. I'll stay here for a week... and I want peace."
His words left a deceptive effect made their eyes gleam with false hope, thinking he was afraid.
They smiled in secret, thinking the element of surprise was gone, that now they were prepared.
Daniel moved ten meters away from the basket, watching the twenty remaining prisoners with the eyes of a hawk.
They began approaching him with slow steps neither fast nor hesitant... their old hunger tearing through their chests, their desires pouring from their eyes.
Half of them wanted the food... the other half wanted him... and some wanted both.
Suddenly, Daniel turned around and removed his shirt grumbling:
"It's hot in here..."
His sculpted body, flawless in every sense, left them awestruck.
The women's breaths grew heavy. The men drooled… then, suddenly, they all froze.
On his back was the tattoo of a serpent with crimson eyes, gleaming as if it were alive.
In that moment... everything changed.
They had thought it the mark of some spoiled aristocrat one who frightened others with symbols to keep himself untouched, sacred, above harm...
But the truth was far darker.
That tattoo was no decoration.
It was a warning.
A curse.
A vow carved from a different time.
And this... was only the beginning.