Once the scene had finished playing, Tucker and Ray stood there in silence. They were unable to move a muscle at what they had just seen. It was the first time a weapon that could level cities with a single command came into existence before them. The reality tore apart their hearts knowing what tragedy awaited their nation.

  If the Empire used this weapon against the Sword Saint’s army, or even one of the bastions. The casualties would be devastating enough to force them to surrender. They couldn’t leave like this. They needed to find out where the artifact was being kept.

  Tucker took the black leather notebook from the table. The translucent blue screen faded, and as he held it in his hands, a sharp breath escaped his lips. A thin strand of mana connected the book to the table. Something Tucker was familiar with from his time in the academy.

  “No,” he stared in horror before grabbing onto the ledge of the wooden surface. Tucker tilted his head, staring beneath it and cursed under his breath. “Fuck…”

  “What is it?” Ray asked.

  “This book is useless with this damn desk, and the entire thing is bolted to the floor,” Tucker answered, slamming his fist on the table. “If the book is the key, then the desk would be the ledger. We can’t just take one of them.”

  “Then, we just take the desk as well.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Tucker replied. “Not only would we have to smuggle it out of the tower and through the city, but we would also have to make sure the magic circle within it isn’t damaged.”

  “If it were, could Charles fix it?”

  “Even if he did, these systems work by chaining magic circles. One would be in the foundation of the tiles beneath the desk, then another within the desk itself.” Tucker rested his palm against the smooth tiles, feeling the flow of mana course through the surface with a troubled look in his eyes.

  It was exactly as he feared, but hope wasn’t gone. There were still the memory orbs in their pouches. He reached for one of the translucent white spheres and held it in his hand. Yet, the entire orb was lifeless. He couldn’t feel any trace of mana in the inscriptions.

  Tucker placed the orb back and muttered, “They have a disruption array in the tower.”

  “That means nothing we saw got recorded…” Ray looked at Tucker for an answer. “What do we do?”

  The last bit of hope they had shattered in an instant. Twenty minutes had passed since they had entered the room, and only ten minutes remained. Tucker placed the black notebook and kept the loose pages from the secret compartment. It seemed hopeless, but it was better than nothing.

  But as the drawer remained open, the sound of gears clicking softly filled the office. Tucker and Ray turned around to see a small cobblestone room opening up as the walls shifted in place. Light failed to reach the far wall, but it was just enough for them to make out the outlines.

  The watchmen glanced at each other. Ray immediately held up his hand, manifesting a small ball of flames before tossing it in. The fiery sphere landed with a soft clink before rolling across the floor. Its warmth illuminating the far side, just enough for them to see the dried streaks of crimson painting the stark walls of what seemed to be a prison cell.

  “We need to go in,” Tucker said, picking up the pocket watch. He placed the loose notes in his leather pouch and stepped into the room with Ray close behind.

  Once they entered, a voice instantly filled the chambers. It was one Tucker could never forget. A voice that slid into his ears like a whisper that rattled his very soul. Memories of what happened to the men of the Thirty-First flashed through his mind.

  Tucker moved toward the sound with Ray close behind. His boots echoed against the cold floors with a heavy thud just as the fiery orb came to a halt. Their shadows flickered on the walls as if begging for answers, and then he saw him.

  A man with brown hair and violet eyes was bound in iron shackles that bit into his wrists and ankles before vanishing into the walls. His body was no more than skin stretched over bone, with every rib being easily distinguishable from afar. Only a black loincloth, just like the ones given to slaves, covered him.

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  Tucker didn’t recognize him at first, but soon the features came to him like a flash of lightning.

  It was Nox Ashcreek.

  The Advisor of Stafford Bastion. The very same man who had driven the men of the Thirty-First and several other platoons to their deaths with his betrayal. An event that later became known as the Stafford massacre. Yet, something was off with the man before them.

  Tucker examined the crippled man, who mumbled the same five numbers over and over again. Layers of scarred tissue covered his body in grotesque patterns. Some were pale and healed over like flesh folding onto itself, while others were darker and warped where muscles had been forced to mend too quickly.

  “Dear God…” Ray swallowed hard and held back his disgust. “Who is this man?”

  Tucker stared at the long brown hair that grew to the floor. “It’s Nox,” he whispered. “The one that forced our brothers to die in a battle we knew we couldn’t win.”

  “But it looks like he’s been here for months.”

  Tucker stepped closer to the man who didn’t move a muscle. The numbers kept repeating one after another, with a slight pause between. Five digits. Seventy, forty-four, ninety-one, six, and twenty-two. A constant stream that continued with no end.

  The man before him was beyond broken. Tucker didn’t need to be a healer to see this. The scars etched on his body told a tale of desperation, tenacity, and a will that had been pushed to its limits.

  Tucker thought back to the bastion when he had encountered Nox. Memories of him and Luka launching their sneak attack just as the man passed. Tucker remembered it now, the briefest flicker of crimson in the Advisor’s eyes just before they settled back into violet. It was so subtle he had dismissed it at the time.

  But now Tucker understood.

  When the mana-draining cuffs fell, his eye color had changed.

  Nox was never at the bastion. He was imprisoned in the far corner of the empire before the battle had begun. Desperately trying to break free and warn his home of what the Emerald Tower had done.

  “Those numbers… could they be the combination for a teleport device?” Ray asked.

  “I think so,” Tucker replied. “Even after months of torture, this was the only sentence the real Nox remembered.”

  “Fucking hell…” Ray looked around the room, clenching his hand at the torture devices hanging on the wall. He stepped closer to Nox while raising the dagger, but before he could put the man out of his misery—Tucker stopped him.

  “You can call me cruel, but right now the Elders from the Emerald Tower don’t know we’re here,” Tucker said. “If you grant him mercy… then whatever information we find here will lose its value after days.”

  Ray glanced at Nox with pain in his eyes. “We can’t just leave him here!”

  “I know, but we don’t have a choice.” Tucker held up the watch. “Five minutes left, grab what you can and we’re leaving.”

  “But we’ve already taken pages!” Ray protested.

  “A few misplaced notes won’t mean anything,” Tucker said, holding back his anger. “Don’t get me wrong, it doesn’t sit well with me either, but we don’t have a choice. If anything, we will come back and save him when we get the chance. But right now, we need to make it out alive.”

  Ray took a deep breath and nodded as Tucker released his grip. Together, they searched the cobblestone room, making notes of anything that seemed valuable and the possible locations that the artifact could be in. In their search, it seemed like there was only one destination left, but that would have to be confirmed once they returned.

  “Two minutes,” Tucker said.

  Ray nodded, putting a folded page into his pocket. He took one final glance at Nox, who continued to mutter the numbers with a trace of sadness.

  “We’ll come back, I promise.” Tucker grabbed Ray’s shoulder. “And if not, then we’ll send someone else.”

  “People don’t deserve to be treated like this,” Ray muttered.

  “I know, but we can only change things if we make it out.” Tucker's eyes were filled with conviction. “We can’t let our emotions get the better of us, not here.”

  Ray shut his eyes in frustration but soon nodded. With no other choice, the two left Nox in the darkness of the bloodstained room. The embers faded like stars dying out in the night sky. Both of them truly wanted to help him, but how? If they tried to rescue him here, Pyron would know that they had discovered the artifact. The information they had on hand would be meaningless.

  It pained Tucker’s heart because all that hate he once had for Nox had been misplaced. It was never meant for the man, chained and left broken at a point so close to heaven. But for the one who wore his face.

  Pyron had them in the palm of his hand, forcing them to move to an ominous orchestra only he could hear. The strings he pulled from the shadows drove their nation further to the brink of extinction.

  But that would change from here on out.

  The fight wouldn’t go according to his wishes.

  With a firm gaze, they left the darkness of the holding cell. Tucker stood before the desk and closed the secret compartment with a heavy heart. Stones groaned and gears shifted, realigning the wall once more until no trace of the passage remained.

  Tucker looked at Sam as she rested peacefully beside the door, and adjusted his uniform despite the hollow feeling aching in his chest.

  Did she know about the horrors that were happening in this very tower?

  The lives that were played with in the name of progress?

  He doubted it, because that’s just how Pyron was.

  And the odds were, she would never know.