Project Knightfall

The first thing she felt was the absence of pain.

Lexi stirred, her fingers twitching against unfamiliar sheets. Her body was stiff, heavy. Her skin was clean, scrubbed raw like someone had tried to wash away the memories along with the blood. All of her wounds were healed.

She opened her eyes slowly.

The ceiling above was stone, carved with shallow reliefs and faint traces of gold filigree. The room was quiet—too quiet. She turned her head and winced. A soft pillow cradled her, tucked beneath her cheek. A thick blanket weighed down her legs.

Too soft.

Her ears twitched.

This wasn’t the inn.

She sat up too quickly and her vision blurred for a moment. Her hands reached for the chains on her wrists out of habit—

And froze.

They were still there. Even though she now owned them, they couldn’t be removed. These chains would be with her for the rest of her life.

And someone with the right tools could overwrite her control and enslave her again.

The door opened.

Lexi’s back straightened instinctively. Her hands curled into fists in her lap.

A man stepped in.

Tall, broad-shouldered, clean-shaven with a short golden beard and hair swept back in sharp lines. He wore armor beneath ceremonial robes, and a sword rested casually at his side.

The father of her previous master:

Duke Jantzen.

He closed the door behind him and offered her a nod. “Good. You’re awake.”

Lexi stared at him, every muscle tensed. “Where am I?”

“You’re safe,” he said calmly, pulling a chair across the room. He didn’t sit in it. “My name is Jantzen Rovar. You were captured after you and a certain accomplice raided a government-sponsored facility.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Where is he?”

He smiled. “He escaped, if that’s what you want to know.”

Lexi’s blood went cold.

Duke Jantzen finally sat, resting his elbows on his knees. His gaze was sharp, but not unkind. “I’m not here to hurt you. In fact…” He reached into his coat and pulled something out. A small, ornate key. He turned it in his fingers before setting it on the table between them. “I’m going to remove your chains.”

Lexi flinched.

“You’ll be free,” he said. “No master to rule you. Whatever you’ve been forced to endure will end here.”

She scoffed.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Why would I?” she whispered. “Why would you set a slave free?”

He looked at her, steady. “Because that’s what strength is.”

She furrowed her brow, not understanding.

“Strength,” he continued, “is not control, like some people think. It’s not power over others. Strength, in a broad sense, is the right to choose. In its higher forms, strength is the ability to give others the right to choose. That is what Lord Dallin teaches. That is the path I follow.”

“So the strongest person is the biggest pushover?” Lexi concluded. “What an amazing god. Gee, I wonder how my people lost to ideals like yours.”

The duke laughed. “If that’s how you choose to see it, then that is your right. Strength alone does not provide the answer to everything. My god is also Truth, and he reigns amongst a pantheon whose members own different paths and teachings.”

“I know of the human gods,” Lexi muttered. “They also teach that beastkin are cursed beings, comparable to monsters. They say that all monsters must be purged for the safety and prosperity of the world.”

“There are those who teach that, yes. And others who challenge it. Faith, like power, is often wielded by the wrong hands.”

Lexi sighed. “I’m tired of blaming fate. That bastard can die alone, for all I care.”

“Are you referring to Cain?”

“…I was talking about ‘fate’.”

“Forgive me, I thought it was a metaphor.”

“…”

Duke Jantzen watched her for a moment, then gestured to the key on the table between them.

“This key,” he said, “is a relic. It can sever magical bindings regardless of rank or tier. Whether your contract is etched in blood, soul, or will—it will end.”

Lexi’s gaze flicked to the key, then back to him.

“You said you’d free me,” she said quietly.

He nodded.

“But I’m already free.”

He glanced at the chains on her wrists, then tilted his head.

“I don’t belong to anyone anymore,” Lexi said, lifting her arms. The chains at her wrists jangled softly, resting against the pale skin. “These? I want to keep them. I choose to. I’d rather carry the weight of what happened than pretend it didn’t.”

The duke’s brow furrowed. “You’re saying… that you willingly bind yourself?”

“No.” She stood slowly, with quiet resolve. “I don’t need your key,” she said. “And I don’t need your god’s blessing. I’m already free.”

She was surprised how steady her voice was. She didn’t feel strong—but she wanted to be.

The words hung in the air, sharp and clear.

Duke Jantzen’s eyes lingered on her, reading more than she meant to show.

Then, to her surprise, he smiled. “That’s a better answer than I’d hoped for.”

Lexi blinked.

He reached forward and retrieved the key without fanfare, tucking it back into the folds of his coat.

“You have my respect,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean you get to walk out of here.

Her jaw tightened.

“I want to ask you a few things. And I’d like you to answer honestly—because as I see it, the people who sent you into that facility are the reason you ended up in this situation.”

She looked down.

He continued. “I don’t need to threaten you. But I do need to understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Why you were there. What you found. And what is going to happen next.”

She hesitated. “You want to know about ‘him’.”

“I do,” he admitted. “But more importantly, I want to know why someone like him would burn down an entire estate, then attack some skill point farms. If it were just that, I’d write him off as a lunatic, but he went on to hit a government-sponsored facility.”

He rose from his seat.

“I’m not scared of a lunatic. But he’s not just a lunatic, is he?”

Lexi didn’t answer.

“I’ll give you time to think it over,” he said. “But not too much.”

He turned to go, then paused at the door.

“One last thing,” he said without looking back. “You were never seen exiting the Goblin Den. We thought the only two people who escaped were Nick and Ray.”

Lexi stiffened.

“I’ve sent for him,” the duke said. “I think it’s time we all had a conversation.”

Lexi waited until the door clicked shut.

Then she exhaled.

It was a small, tired thing, like her lungs didn’t know how to hold anything bigger.

Her fingers tightened on the edge of the blanket. The room felt colder now. There wasn’t anyone else to fill the silence.

She looked down at the chains again.

They were heavy. Not so heavy that they impeded her ability to function, but heavy enough that she always felt their weight. She could move freely. She could walk, run, fight. But no matter where she went, they’d always be the first thing people noticed.

She reached over and touched the edge of one cuff, tracing the line where metal met skin.

It didn’t feel like a shackle anymore. Not entirely.

It was a reminder.

She wasn’t strong. She hadn’t saved anyone. She was angry, broken, frightened.

Even if no one else understood. Even if it made people look at her like she was crazy.

And maybe she was.

But this was her choice.

She curled her legs to her chest, rested her chin on her knees, and stared at the filigree on the ceiling. It was beautiful. Too beautiful for a prison.

She wondered how many other people had woken up in this bed. How many of them had been told they were safe. How many had believed it.

“…I’m not safe,” she whispered.

Not because of the duke or because of the chains.

Deep down, she could feel it—that cold, hollow thrum where something else used to be. A sense of hopelessness that chains alone couldn’t possibly match.

She pulled the blanket tighter around herself.

“Dad…” she mumbled. “Kaelyn, Trey…”

What kind of person felt powerful?

What kind of person could laugh?

What kind of person wanted to be saved?

“Someone… please…”

She’d wanted to be a good daughter. A good warrior. A good person.

But the person who wanted those things died in the snow.

Who was Princess Leximea Bloodclaw?

Lexi closed her eyes.

“…help…me…”

***

The guards didn’t speak.

They moved in unison, polished steel glinting beneath midnight-blue cloaks stitched with gold. The double doors opened without a sound, their dark wood inlaid with mother-of-pearl, the hinges oiled to perfection.

Nick and Ray stepped inside.

The halls of the Rovar House Estate were built like a cathedral—vaulted ceilings with carved archways, gold filigree tracing patterns so intricate it took a second glance to even realize they were there. Tall windows let in morning light filtered through glass so clean it may as well have been air. The floor beneath his boots was veined marble, dark and cool, with no rugs to soften the sound.

Everything was exquisite, but in a measured, deliberate way reserved for those born above consequence. It wasn’t indulgent; it was inevitable.

Two more guards waited at the next threshold, flanking an arched door framed with golden ivy. One reached forward, opened it, and stepped aside without meeting his eye.

They walked in.

The chamber beyond was private and intimate by noble standards. High ceilings but no thrones or banners. The center of the room held a long obsidian table polished to a mirror finish and a few high-backed chairs of deep violet velvet. A massive armoire lined the wall that probably cost more than most estates. A single sculpture sat in the corner—an abstract rendering of a lion mid-prowl, carved from a single piece of sapphire-flecked black stone.

And at the far end, beside a window that overlooked the estate gardens, stood a man.

Duke Jantzen didn’t turn immediately.

Nick and Ray slowed their pace.

The duke finally spoke, voice calm and unreadable. “Nick. We’ve seen each other three times this week now, and the week is barely half over.”

Nick let out a dry laugh. “I’m choosing to interpret it as a sign that I’m kind of a big deal.”

Duke Jantzen turned, a slow pivot that felt rehearsed.

“Sit,” he said, gesturing toward the table.

Nick stepped forward, boots silent against the floor, and took a seat opposite him. Ray took another seat at his side.

“You’ve had a busy few days.”

Nick’s mouth twitched. “That’s one way to put it.”

“I’m not here to lecture you,” the duke continued, voice calm. “I summoned you because something doesn’t add up. And you strike me as the kind of man who hates leaving things unresolved.”

Nick raised a brow but said nothing.

Jantzen stepped around the obsidian table, not taking a seat yet. “After the Goblin Den, only two people were seen leaving. You and your friend here.”

Nick nodded. “Correct.”

“And yet,” the duke said, “a third survivor has appeared. One who was not seen exiting the dungeon. One who happened to be a slave under my son’s command.”

Nick stayed silent.

“I just finished speaking with her,” the duke added. “Leximea Bloodclaw. She doesn’t seem inclined to speak yet. But, interestingly enough, we found her because she was left behind after a failed raid by Cain.”

Nick inwardly sighed.

“As you probably understand, this raises some questions.”

“Questions like whether I lied to you?”

The duke met his gaze evenly. “Did you?”

“I told you what I saw. She wasn’t with us when we left.”

Jantzen studied him. “But she’s tied to Cain.”

“Seems like it.”

“And you’re the one who first told me about him. You’re the one who wants him caught. If I recall, you said you’ve been hunting him for a while now.”

“That’s right.”

The silence between them grew taut.

“Then tell me this,” the duke said. “How did Cain get past your notice? According to the reports, he’s not particularly skilled or powerful. Yet he apparently continues to vanish right under your nose.”

Nick scoffed. “I don’t know the exact details of what happened this time, but didn’t you fail to catch him this time as well? Why are you asking how he escaped from me when he escaped from you?”

His fingers drummed once against the table.

“I can’t answer all of your questions. You’re right to be suspicious. I would be, too.”

Duke Jantzen leaned forward. “I don’t need empty reassurances. I need results.”

Nick gave a tight nod. “And you’ll get them.”

After a moment, Jantzen’s expression eased.

“We found Lexi in a skill point farm. After Cain fled the scene, we captured her without further incident. The moment he disappeared, she ceased all resistance. Her mental state seems rather fragile. It should be easy to get what we need from her.”

Nick didn’t respond.

“I want you to speak with her next. She’s met you. You have a different relationship with her than I do, as the father of her former master. Maybe she’ll give you more than she gave me.”

Nick nodded again, slower this time. “Understood.”

“But Ray stays here.”

“…Why?”

“Not to undermine your guardianship,” the duke quickly added. “But I want to hear what she knows from her own mouth. Consider it… a precaution.”

‘Shit…’

Nick gave Ray a look—half warning, half reassurance. She shrugged.

“I’ll be fine,” she said simply.

The duke turned away. “The rooms down the hall. One of the guards will show you the way.”

Nick stood. The chair’s legs whispered across the floor.

“One more thing,” Duke Jantzen said, not turning to face him. “She’s no longer bound by her contract. Someone already broke it.”

Nick paused. “And?”

“So remember that whatever she gives you, she gives willingly, or not at all.”

He didn’t say it—but the warning was clear.

The guard stepped forward without a word. The door opened.

And Nick followed.