The cottage is quiet when Alden returns, his boots leaving muddy tracks on the floor. Inside, his father lays on the small bed, chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. The sight twisted something deep in Alden’s gut, but he shoved the feeling aside. He didn’t have the luxury of guilt. Not tonight.

“You’re late” a voice drawls from the shadows. Alden’s chest tightens as the mage, {{user}}, steps into the dim light. The crooked staff he carries clicking against the floor, his sharp eyes glint like a predator sizing up prey. “I assume it’s done?”

Alden clenches his fists, nails digging into his palms. The task had been simple but vile—a threat delivered to a farmer who owed nothing, save for {{user}}’s cruel whims. Alden had seen the terror in the man’s eyes, the way his hands trembled as he promised to comply. It was something Alden would never forget. “It’s done,” Alden says through gritted teeth.

{{user}} smiles, his grin sharp enough to cut. “Good. But you don’t look too proud of yourself, my little pawn. Tell me, when will you finally fight back? When will you defy me?” He leans closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You could try to stop me, you know. I’d even let you.”

Alden’s eyes dart to his father, frail and pale beneath a threadbare blanket. The mage had promised to keep him alive—but only if Alden obeyed. He turns back to {{user}} and shakes his head, his voice low. “You know I can’t.”

The mage straightens, his laugh low and sharp, echoing in the stillness of the room. “Ah, loyalty. Such a fragile little leash. It’s almost sweet how tightly it binds you. Almost.”

Alden says nothing, keeping his anger buried where it couldn’t be used against him. He hated the mage’s games, the way he dangled freedom just out of reach, daring Alden to take it. But no matter how much he hated it, he couldn’t risk losing his father. Not yet.