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Days, nights, weeks—months. I didn't know how I spent down there in the darkness. All I knew was that Lord Himmel would come at irregular hours, invoking the blood oath, trying to push me to give in to him. I resisted, but it became harder over time.

One of the few things that probably kept me going was that Elise would stop by and replenish my tray of food and water, speaking words of encouragement to me as well. That, and the fact that she was constantly sharing some of her magic with me. Every time she stopped by, she would also sing softly to me, one that plucked at some odd memory tucked away at the back of my head. It was only during the next time that Lord Himmel came when I realised I was drawing on her power to resist the blood oath.

I didn't question how she got past the enchantments of the cell. I was just too grateful to think about anything else.

Even now, as I lay in bed—like what I did most of the time—I could feel her powerful, untapped magic running in me. It intertwined with my own energy, testing and coaxing each other. It was somewhat unsettling, but I'd grown used to the sensation.

Another thing that kept me sane was my flute. I always clung to it, hugging it to my chest, as though it could ward all my nightmares away. I even played it, when I was feeling particularly lonesome. Of course, I still couldn't cast any proper spells, even if I pushed my Core to its limits.

The final thing that I held onto in the darkness was my memory. Or more specifically, memories.

I didn't know why or how, but it was as though a fog had been cast on my mind, and now it was slowly being lifted away. Perhaps it was like Josef's case—something of enough significance returned to me, and it had served as a trigger to unlock my memories. Just one crack was all that was needed. The rest of the tangles came unravelling by themselves.

I still couldn't remember everything, but I vaguely remembered travelling. Always moving from place to place. Anton. Elise. Leon. Helene. I remembered songs-songs by starlight, by campfires, in bed, at twilight. They were sometimes forlorn, sometimes uplifting; sometimes the melody was the sweet hum of a violin, sometimes it was accompanied by a voice, and sometimes the voice sang by itself. One thing for sure was that the songs were always beautiful. Even though I couldn't recall every single note, the ghost of it was enough to send chills snaking down my spine.

Perhaps it was because Elise had finally revealed the truth to me, and her words, combined with her face, had been strong enough to return my memories to me. At any rate, I wasn't the cripple from Hamelin anymore. I had a past-I had an identity.

I was Klaudia.

And I would make it out of here alive.

So far, Elise hadn't come up with anything substantial for our planned escape. It was tough going, I knew, but with each hour lost our chances of getting out was decreasing.

I tried to think up a plan too. Unfortunately, without my magic, I was as good as dead. If only I could pry the bars open—but there were barriers cast upon that too.

With a loud sigh that filled up the tiny room, I stared blankly at the ceiling.

"Tired already? But you're not even moving."

I sat upright with a jolt. It couldn't be-but it was. The man's voice sounded strong, self-assured, and not at all injured. Like how I'd last seen him.

"Josef?" I said tentatively.

The broad figure at my cell door shifted in greeting. "You beckon me?"

"Josef!" I gasped, leaping out of bed—barely wincing when my bad leg twisted-and rushing over to the entrance. I was then thrown backwards by a sudden wave of energy, and I landed on the ground with a hard oof.

I glared at the cell doors. Stupid barrier. Why couldn't I even reach out? It wasn't as if I had an opportunity to escape anyway.

"You all right?" he asked. The steinliohts didn't provide much illumination, but I could make out the concern creasing his brow. I also didn't fail to notice that his left eye was covered by a huge eye patch.

"I'm fine." I quickly pushed myself onto my feet and dusted my skirts. I hadn't had a bath in a long time. However, the air down here was dry and cool, if slightly musty and cloyed with forgotten blood and urine. I hardly noticed the stench anymore though. And so I supposed that I was relatively clean for someone who had no opportunity to take a shower.

As I got closer to him, I could make out more details of his face. It still had its bold, handsome lines, and he stood as unyielding as ever. But the eyepatch was disconcerting, and I couldn't help staring at it.

Consciously, he reached for where his left eye used to be. "I look terrible, don't I?" he said.

"Better than I do, surely," I replied. Then after a moment's pause: "Are you-are you all right?"

"All thanks to you." He looked down at his feet, suddenly looking like a small child although he was at least two heads taller than me. "I – I don't know what to say. You gave up your freedom to come back." He looked up, his brown eyes reflecting disbelief, as if his release from Lord Himmel's torture was still a dream.

Now it was my turn to look at my feet. I didn't offer an answer.

"Why?" His voice was harsh, quiet.

Why did I do it? The immediate answer that came to mind was because he was my friend. But was there something else? My freedom was an awfully steep price to pay for a friend.

I didn't want to think too much about it. So I said, "It seemed like the right thing to do."

"You could've found another life in Starkfurt. You're a Magus. You would've found a place in the Council. You could've ruled over sorcerers; you could've found someone and settle down."

"It wouldn't matter much if I allowed Lord Himmel to win, would it?"

"But still..."

"It's all in the past now, Josef. We can't do anything about it."

He heaved a loud sigh. "Of course. I know that. It's just...I want to thank you, Klaudia."

I gave a jump at the sound of my name on his tongue. It sounded gentle, tentative-as though he wasn't sure if he should address me without a title. I found that I didn't mind at all. "Your thanks is much appreciated, Josef. Though I doubt that it will help me out of this situation." I made an attempt at light-heartedness, only to have Josef wince visibly. I resumed a serious tone: "Are you feeling all right? What did Lord Himmel do?"

Consciously, he touched his eyepatch again. Then he whipped his head about, scanning the dungeons for unseen spies. After a few seconds, he took out a vial from his jerkin. Its contents shone a murky green under the steinliohts. He uncorked the vial and began to tip its contents out, making sure the liquid flowed in a steady stream and in a circle around him. Plumes of smoke rose into the air where the potion hit the ground, and it suffocated the air with its sickeningly sweet presence.

"Huldavad," said Josef, and the smoke dissipated. Instead, magic hummed in its place. Although my Core was severely weakened, it roused up in response to the spell, telling me that it was an illusion.

"Is that an illusion?" I asked. Just to confirm my suspicions.

"Yes. I don't know how long it will last though. I'm running out on my stocks, and the dungeon here was built to diminish magic. So, to answer your first question, yes, I'm sure I'm all right. To answer your second question, by the time Lord Himmel learned that he had been travelling back to Heidelberg with an illusion, he was already in the castle. He immediately recognised my scent of magic and interrogated me. But I wouldn't give you away. And then—and then he started to torture me. He used magic-even forbidden blood magic. He raised demons of my own mind to attack me. He flayed me both physically and mentally. I – I..."

He trailed off. His expression looked pained, and it seemed like he was trying to fight back whatever trauma he'd experienced. I suddenly saw a sorrowful light in his eyes-he'd been broken. Badly. And though he stood before me, talking like normal, he hadn't healed right, and he would never heal right. Guilt surged in me. He had suffered because he helped me, and this was the price he paid.

"I'm sorry," I said. No need to explain what I was sorry for; the missing eye was testimony enough.

He shook his head slowly. "No, don't be. Like you said, what's done is done. Question is, what are you going to do now?"

My fists clenched by my sides, and I bit back a restless growl. "I don't know. Elise might be able to find some way to get me out," I said. However, even as I spewed the words out, the flame of hope in me flickered dangerously. How long could I hold out against the blood oath? How long till the darkness twisted and warped my mind, forcing me to submit? But I got a grip on myself and carried on. "Anyway, I'm starting to remember my past."

The sudden switch in topic made Josef jump. I could have sworn that his cheeks began to flame. "O – oh. And what-what do you remember?" he stuttered.

I raised a brow at his stilted speech. "Bits and pieces," I said slowly. "Nothing much. Just...vague memories."

"What could have caused this?"

I stayed silent for a while, gathering my scattered thoughts and stringing them into a comprehensible sentence. "Did Elise send you down here?"

His eyes widened at yet another change in topic. "No-o. Not exactly, no. I mean, she had suggested that I come see you once I was fully recovered, but that was about a week ago. She hadn't said anything about it since then. I came down here on my own. Sort of."

"Did she tell you everything?"

"About the blood oath and how you refused to give in to Lord Himmel, thus landing yourself in these saints-forsaken dungeons? Yes."

Despite myself, I found the corners of my lips lifting up in a wry smile at Josef's comment. It was heavy and stiff, probably because I hadn't smiled in days. I'd almost forgotten how it felt. I also almost forgotten how Josef could make my heart feel lighter, no matter the circumstances. "She did didn't say anything about her relationship with me?"

"Not that I know of." His eyes narrowed with suspicion.

I took in a deep breath, willing myself to calm down. "She's my mother."

There was a stunned silence that followed. It permeated the small space, making it hard to breathe.

Then Josef's next word dropped like a boulder on my head: "What?"

I drew in another deep breath. "She's my mother. When you go back up, ask her to explain more in detail. Point is, I know she's my mother. I think the knowledge must have somehow triggered my memories before the plague."

He stared at me in disbelief. "Elise is your mother?"

"Yes," I said, not without a tone of irritancy. "Anyhow...I want to know what you remember of your past life so far."

"Why?" He folded his arms across his chest. They were painfully thin compared to the bulk of muscle he once had. Another reminder of Lord Himmel's cruelty.

"I know what happened that night, but there are pieces that are still missing. And I—we need to know them if we have any chance of defeating Lord Himmel."

"You say it like we do have a chance to free ourselves."

"We have to believe in that, Josef. We don't have much of a choice."

"True." He rubbed his temples with his fingers. "Where to begin? I remember that I had a father. His name was Gunter. He was a Tinker too—I think. He used to always be holed up in his workshop, and he always made beautiful things for me. He taught me how to work with wood, as well as with various arrays of materials. My mother had died a long time ago; I don't recall seeing her anywhere."

My muscles froze; my breathing became hitched. "Your...father. What does he look like?"

"Rather tall. Broad-shouldered. Brown hair, brown beard. My colouring is like his, but my facial features aren't. At least, I supposed they aren't."

I studied him closely. Several puzzles in my mind clicked together. Now I knew why he looked so familiar-it wasn't just his hair or his stature, his whole demeanour reminded me of Papa Gunter. There was a laidback yet taut set to their spines; the way they smiled, the way their mouths would tilt slightly to the right, was so similar. I stared at him for a few more moments, processing everything and growing more and more dumbfounded.

"What's wrong?" Josef's voice pulled me out of my stupor. He even sounded like his father. Saints above, how could I have been so blind?

I shook my head vigorously. Pull yourself together! I scolded myself in my head. "Nothing. It's just—" I cut myself off abruptly, suddenly aware how absurd I came across.

"It's just what?" Josef was looking at me intently, curiously.

You should tell him. He deserves the right to know. The thought flashed in my mind almost subconsciously, but it assured me of what I would have to do. "Your father...he was mine too. Of a sort. He adopted me while I was still in Hamelin."

"You – what?" His jaw dropped open. For a moment, I wondered if I was doing the right thing by giving him so many shocks in rapid consecutiveness.

"Papa – Gunter was my adoptive father," I said, trying to soothe him. He was very obviously spooked, from the way the tension laced his entire body. "He must have taken me in after everything that had happened..."

I sank into my thoughts again. Josef said that Papa Gunter was a Tinker. I'd suspected that he was a sorcerer for as long as I knew, due to his extensive knowledge of magic and its workings. He'd used to tell me tales about the magic of days long gone to sleep, instead of the usual faerie stories with nasty witches and lindworms that would give any decent folk nightmares.

So if he was a Tinker, then he would have known Elise, wouldn't he? From what little I remembered, we travelled a lot during those days. We could have passed through Hamelin several times, and we certainly could have maintained our equipment with the proper expert in the town.

It occurred to me as to why Papa Gunter was the only person who was willing to take me in. It was possible that he was close friends with my parents, and naturally felt an obligation to them to take care of me...It also occurred to me as to why Elise was always looking out for Josef. After all, from what I managed to gather, she was the one who'd probably paid regular visits to him while he was incapacitated.

Yes, everything made sense.

"So, any other memories you recall?" I finally said, breaking the silence. "Like how my flute is interconnected with your past?"

Again, his cheeks flushed. "You – you and your parents regularly stopped by Hamelin. We used to be playmates. I think one day I had enough skill with wood to craft a flute. I – I knew how much you loved to play, so I...gave it to you."

That didn't seem much reason to me to be so embarrassed. He was rubbing his neck awkwardly, and he was shuffling on his feet. But I decided not to press him any further. "Anything else?"

"No, no. Nothing else." Then he looked around him in bewilderment. I frowned at his actions, before realising that the magic wasn't working as strongly as before. "The illusion is fading away."

"So fast?" We'd only been talking for five minutes, I guessed.

"Magic is greatly diminished down here, remember? Even my Affinity isn't as strong here..."

"Go then, before Lord Himmel realises you're missing."

He gave a short bark of laughter. "He barely notices me now, because he has you in his grasp."

My Core warned me that the illusion wasn't going to last much longer. If I wanted to say anything, I had to say it now. "Remember to talk to Elise."

"I will."

And the illusion ebbed away.

Now that the safety of magic was no longer shrouding us and our conversation, I felt naked-exposed. My tongue twisted upon itself, unable to form any words.

Josef gave me a long, hard look. "It's farewell for now, I suppose," he said stupidly.

"Yes it is," I said, just as stupidly. What could I say? That I was inherently glad to see him after so many days in the darkness? That I was ridiculously relieved that he had recovered physically? That his voice somehow made me smile? "Promise me you'll stay safe."

"After all your effort of saving me? Of course." He managed a wan smile.

I returned the smile with a reassuring one. "Well now, at least you've caught my intentions. It would be a waste if I got myself here just to see you get into trouble."

We actually chuckled together for a quite a bit. It felt nice. Then once the laughter died down, his expression grew serious. "Goodbye, Klaudia," he said, sorrow and regret and a hundred of indiscernible emotions ringing in his tone.

"Goodbye, Josef," I said.

He swept himself into a bow, and—with a slight limp, I noticed—walked away. I couldn't see if he stopped to turn around and look at me, as the cell doors were limited my view of the dungeons. All I knew was that as the echoes of his boots died off, a heavy stone lodged itself in my heart.

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