Time had lost its meaning.

In the damp cave, where drops fell at irregular intervals, Kael could no longer distinguish morning from night, hours from minutes. Only the occasional creak of chains reminded him that he was still trapped in this world. His body, kneeling on the cold floor, remained motionless, as if part of the rock. The torch in the corner had already burned down halfway, but even its flickering light seemed to mock the endless passage of time.

What any other man would have experienced—piercing hunger, unbearable thirst, muscles trembling with weakness—was only a strange simulation in Kael's mind. He felt the hunger. His mouth felt dry. His stomach sometimes churned, as if searching for something that would never come. But none of these were more than echoes, illusions that didn't truly consume him.

He knew.

Because Kael had never been an ordinary man. He had never truly been human.

He was a product.

An experiment shaped by the hands of Elion, the Witch Queen's daughter.

Memories came slowly, from the shadows of consciousness. They weren't ordinary memories, but distorted fragments, like echoes of a life he never lived. Her presence, immense and overwhelming, her thin hands covered in runes, her gray gaze piercing flesh and bone. And the blood—not his, but hers.

Elion hadn't given him life in the natural sense. Witches couldn't bear children. It was a limitation inscribed on their bodies from birth, a blockage that not even centuries of magic had broken. But Elion, in his obsession, had refused to accept limits.

Kael's body had been sculpted with care, like a perfect weapon. Bones reinforced by density spells, muscles shaped to resist exhaustion, a heart that beat in tune with currents of mana rather than relying solely on blood. But what made him unique wasn't strength.

It was the fact that he carried it within himself.

Elion had used her own body as a catalyst. Rituals in which she used a magical womb. Every drop had been planted within him like a seed. Kael was not a son. He was a reflection. A fragment. A living shadow of the Queen herself.

And so he felt no hunger.

No thirst.

He did not wither as a human would.

His body might seem to complain, but deep down it was just the spell repeating false echoes so he could blend in among the living. Like a breathing disguise.

Kael slowly raised his head, his eyes fixed on the flame of the torch. The lips behind the iron mask curved into something that resembled a smile—cold, ironic.

They had chained him as if he were a man.

But they did not understand.

He had never been just that.

The iron still bound his arms, the runes glowing faintly whenever he tried to move. The mask suffocated his words, forcing him into silence. It was a perfect prison. But none of it mattered. Not now.

He closed his eyes, feeling. Not the mana, which remained blocked, but something deeper. A core of existence that needed no water or bread to continue. The gift from his creator. The burden.

Perhaps that was what she wanted: to prove that even the limits of birth could be broken. That even the witches' sterility could be defeated by will. Kael hadn't been born from a womb. He had been born from a magical womb.

The stone door creaked as it was pushed open. The sound echoed through the silent cavern, cutting through the monotonous rhythm of the drops still falling from the ceiling.

The woman entered.

The same cold, gray gaze, the scar that crossed her right eyebrow and made her face seem even sharper. She had a calculated calm in her steps, but there was something in her rigid shoulders that betrayed impatience.

She stopped before him, chained in the center of the room. The torchlight cast long shadows on the walls. For a moment, she watched Kael silently, sizing him up as if he were an exotic animal on display.

Then, unhurriedly, she raised her hand and pulled the iron latch of the mask that held her mouth shut. The metal fell to the floor with a dull thud.

"There." Her voice was firm, emotionless. "Now you can speak."

Kael lifted her face slowly, her eyes half-closed, as if the light bothered her. Her mouth was dry, but not for the reason she imagined. She took a deep breath and let it out as if savoring the freedom of a possible word.

"Finally." Her voice was deep, hoarse, but not broken. "You don't know how irritating that made me."

She didn't react.

"Where's the princess?" she asked bluntly.

Kael let out a short, low laugh.

"I told you." Her tone was almost bored. — I don't know. And, to be honest, I don't care.

Her gray eyes narrowed.

"If you keep this up, you'll die in here."

He tilted his head, his smile widening slowly, laden with irony.

"Every action has a reaction."

The woman's jaw tightened. She took a step forward, the shadow swallowing half her face.

"Is that a threat?"

Kael actually laughed this time, a deep laugh that echoed through the cave, contrasting with the heavy silence.

"No." He shook his head. "It's just... life. Sometimes we meet the wrong people at the wrong time."

She arched an eyebrow, almost amused.

"And I'm the wrong person?"

"Probably," Kael blurted out between chuckles. "Because in a few hours, every witch in this world will be knocking on the door of this hole. And then, my dear, you'll need more than chains and threats to save yourself."

Her laughter died in her throat. Her gaze hardened, though she tried to maintain her mask of coldness.

"What are you saying?"

Kael leaned forward, the iron of his chains scraping against the stone. His eyes gleamed in the flickering torchlight.

"Well... I was hoping to find out who you are. What your interests are, your ambitions. But you're both so stupid." His laugh was dry. "Using that old tactic of leaving me without food and water, as if that would work."

The silence stretched. Her breathing quickened almost imperceptibly.

"You're much more sensitive," Kael added, his tone low, almost intimate. "It's too easy to poke through your mask."

Her fingers curled into fists.

Kael noticed. He smiled.

"It'll be funny..." he drawled. "When all the witches come to rescue their prince."

The woman's heart raced. She hid it, but Kael didn't need magic to sense it. Nervousness wafted from her like the scent of blood in the water.

He tilted his face, leaning as close as the chains would allow. His smile widened, almost predatory.

"And you know what's best?" His voice lowered to a whisper laced with venom. "They'll be thrilled to discover there's someone in the world capable of breaking a person's connection to mana."

The words struck her like a blade.

Her breath caught for a moment.

The gray eyes, always steady, trembled.

Kael saw it.

And laughed.

His laughter echoed through the cave like muffled thunder, filling every crevice in the stone. It was a low, slow laugh, filled not with humor, but with conviction.

The woman didn't move. She stood there, rigid, staring at him as if she could shatter his skull with the force of her gaze alone. But something had changed. The tremor in her eyes didn't go unnoticed.

Kael tilted his head, watching her like a curious predator facing prey trying to appear more ferocious than it actually is.

"Interesting..." he drawled. "You trembled."

"Don't talk nonsense," she replied too quickly, and her haste betrayed her.

Kael smiled wider, her teeth bared.

"You're nervous. Do you want to know how I know?" She leaned forward, and the chains clanged against the stone. "Because, no matter how much you try to hide behind that gray gaze, you know the truth."

The woman took a deep, steadying breath, but her silence gave away more than any words.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said finally, each syllable controlled, as if she were spitting out stones.

Kael raised an eyebrow.

"You don't know...? Then I'll make it easier." Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "Who taught you? Who showed you how to cut the thread between a person and their mana?"

She took a half step back, almost imperceptibly, but enough.

Kael laughed again, and the sound this time was sharper, like metal scraping against metal.

"I knew it," he whispered. "You didn't invent anything. You just stole it."

The silence fell heavy, suffocating. The torch's flame crackled, sending sparks flying against the wall, as if reacting to the tension.

The woman clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white. She looked on the verge of exploding, but she couldn't. If she lost control there, in front of him, she would be confirming every word.

"You talk too much for someone in chains," she said, trying to regain her composure.

Kael tilted his head, the smile never leaving his lips.

"And you listen too much for someone who claims to be in control."

She took another deep breath, her eyes fixed on him as if she wanted to stare right through him. But there was doubt there, a growing doubt she couldn't erase.