On the third day, in the early morning, chaos spread throughout the mine after one of the guards found the body.
"It's Morgan's corpse!"
The guard who discovered it was pale, his voice trembling as he screamed, staring at his comrade's lifeless body lying in a dark corner of the mine, where rocks were piled on both sides. His face was frozen, eyes wide open as if they had been locked in the moment of his final terror.
But what truly terrified everyone wasn't the corpse itself… it was how he had been killed.
Morgan hadn't been torn apart, lost, or dragged into the void like the others.
He had been stabbed.
There was a clear wound in his chest—a clean entry point of a sharp blade—with bleeding marks suggesting he died from slow bleeding, not from a brutal assault by some unknown creature.
When the news reached Lord Caron, he showed no surprise at first. He simply closed his eyes for a few moments, as if he had been expecting something like this.
"So… they finally found him."
He whispered under his breath, then turned to the head of the guards.
"Details?"
The commander bowed quickly, his face tense.
"My lord, as you know, the mine is always filled with dangers. We regularly lose guards and slaves to the beasts hiding in the depths. But this time… it's different."
Caron opened his eyes again, his gaze cold and terrifying.
"Different how?"
The commander hesitated for a moment before continuing in a low voice:
"The beasts haven't shown up at all these past few days."
Caron slowly raised an eyebrow, feeling unease for the first time.
"They haven't? How is that possible? Are you sure?"
"Absolutely, my lord. No disappearances reported, no roars or screams… it's as if some invisible force is keeping them away from the mine. But…"
He paused, then continued in a heavier tone:
"But after examining the body… we confirmed that Morgan wasn't killed by a beast. He was stabbed with a blade—sharp and precise."
A heavy silence swept through the room.
Caron crossed his arms. His expression remained calm, but his mind raced.
"A stab wound? That means his killer was carrying a weapon…"
He stared sharply at the commander.
"Who carries weapons in this place?"
The commander swallowed hard.
"Only the guards, my lord."
"Then…"
Caron pressed his finger against the table, his eyes gleaming with a dark look.
"Either one of the guards betrayed us and killed his comrade… or one of the slaves somehow got their hands on a weapon."
That last possibility was terrifying.
Slaves weren't allowed to possess anything sharp. They were merely tools—meant to dig and work until they died. But if one of them had acquired a weapon… it meant something dangerous was happening in the shadows.
Caron stood up slowly and turned to the commander:
"Begin an investigation immediately. Interrogate the guards first, then the slaves. Anyone acting suspicious—I want a report on them immediately."
He stepped forward, his voice sharper:
"And tell everyone—anyone who sees something strange must report it to me… if they want to stay alive."
The commander moved quickly while Caron stood there for a moment, his eyes glowing with deep thought.
"Something is happening in this place…"
He whispered, his gaze scanning the room as if he could feel the darkness watching him too.
. . .
The interrogation began with the guards first. The commander was furious. The guards lined up in a small square inside the mine, where torches cast flickering shadows on the rocky walls.
"All who were on night duty… step forward!"
Four guards moved forward, their faces tense. None of them expected one of their own to be killed this way.
The commander narrowed his eyes at them, then glanced quickly at his notes before speaking sharply:
"Morgan was working in the southern section of the mine, which means one of you saw him last before he died. Who was the last to speak with him?"
The four guards exchanged glances before one of them hesitantly spoke:
"I… saw him about an hour before his shift ended. He seemed completely normal, nothing strange."
The commander motioned for him to continue.
"He went to his final patrol point—he was supposed to make a short round and then return. But…"
The man paused briefly, then added in a quieter voice:
"He never came back."
One of the other guards spoke up with a worried tone:
"But if he was killed there, wouldn't we have heard something? There were no screams, no sounds of a struggle. How could someone be stabbed to death without making a sound?"
That was what made it even more troubling.
The commander raised his hand, his tone firm:
"That's the question we need answered."
Then he turned to one of his aides and ordered:
"Search the guards' quarters. Check for any missing weapons."
The guards exchanged uneasy glances. None of them expected to be suspects. But the truth was clear: if the killer wasn't a beast, it had to be a human… and who else carried weapons here besides the guards?
But the most terrifying part was that the investigation found no evidence that any of the guards had done it.
---
When the investigation shifted to the slaves, the tension rose even higher.
All the slaves were gathered in the yard. Caron stood with the commander, his eyes slowly sweeping over them, as if looking for something he couldn't name.
"Listen carefully!"
His voice was strong, filled with authority.
"One of our guards died in an unnatural way. No beast killed him—a human weapon did. That means one of you may be involved in some way."
The slaves exchanged looks. Some were afraid, others confused.
"If any of you know anything, or saw something strange these past few nights, it would be in your best interest to speak up now."
He paused, then added coldly:
"Otherwise, we'll begin executing the suspects one by one until the real culprit reveals themselves."
It was a cruel threat—but necessary. He knew fear was the best weapon to force people to talk.
A minute passed in heavy silence.
Then—
"I… I saw something."
Everyone looked up toward the voice.
It was a thin boy, no older than fifteen. His face was pale, and his eyes hesitant.
Caron walked slowly toward him until he stood directly in front of him.
"Tell me what you saw."
The boy swallowed, then whispered:
"I was returning from work a little late… and I passed through one of the back tunnels when I saw a shadow moving fast. I couldn't see who it was, but they were running silently—like they didn't want to be noticed."
Caron narrowed his eyes.
"Did you see any details? Height? Clothes? Anything?"
The boy shook his head quickly.
"It was too dark… but I noticed they were a bit thin… not bulky like the guards."
Caron turned to the commander.
"Was Morgan carrying anything important the night he died?"
The commander thought for a moment, then replied:
"Not really, just his usual sword… but strangely, it wasn't in his hand when we found him."
That didn't make sense. Morgan was a strong guard—he wouldn't be taken down easily… unless he was tricked or ambushed.
Caron looked back at the slaves.
"Search for anyone who seems overly nervous. I won't allow a murderer to remain here."
---
That night, Adryas sat in a dark corner of the slave sleeping area.
He was completely calm, his expression blank.
He had listened to every word spoken during the investigation… and he could feel danger getting closer.
But…
A faint smile crept across his face as he gazed at the sky through a small hole in the stone ceiling.
"If you think you'll find me that easily… then you don't truly know who I am."
To be continued...