Night had fully covered Torredorm when the chained prisoners left the Royal Palace under escort from armed soldiers assigned to the Spirit Ship. Metal links scraped across stone as the young men and women moved through the palace grounds, because restraints at wrists and ankles shortened every stride. Whenever one captive stumbled, the sudden pull traveled through the chain and forced several others to adjust before the entire line lost balance. The soldiers maintained formation around them without allowing unnecessary gaps, since magical suppression had reduced the prisoners’ strength but had not removed every possibility of desperation. Beyond the palace walls, civilians had learned enough about the transfer to gather wherever distant glimpses of the departure route remained visible. Parents called for sons and daughters they could barely distinguish among the moving shad

Royal soldiers descended after the signal confirmed the end of the trial, using secured retrieval baskets and platforms to bring the surviving winners back toward the Spirit Ship.No triumphant procession accompanied them, because the five young men looked less like champions than people who had barely endured three days inside Oak Forest.Dirt covered their clothing and skin, dried blood marked several torn sections of fabric, and exhaustion had reduced every movement to deliberate effort.Their hunger was visible in hollow expressions and unsteady posture, while the smell of sweat, forest soil, and old blood followed them onto the deck.The soldiers positioned the five before Xanthanael without forcing ceremonial dignity from men whose bodies had already spent everything simply staying alive.One struggled briefly to remain upright before correcting his stance, while another kept his head lowered and concentrated on controlling his breathing.A third held his crystalline egg close a

The reduced poppy supply changed the underground chambers more quickly than any lecture, threat, or guard order Xanthanael had used before. Cries began passing through the stone corridors at irregular hours, sometimes angry and sometimes desperate enough to lose every trace of pride. The five prisoners reacted differently, but none escaped the physical and emotional consequences of dependence created during the king’s program. Xisho became the most openly desperate, because he stopped trying to conceal what his body demanded once the reduction became unbearable. His face had grown pale, sweat repeatedly covered his forehead, and his hands shook whenever footsteps approached the heavy door. Every food delivery created hope that the missing substance had been restored, only for frustration to worsen when the tray contained ordinary provisions. One morning