Fallen General's Omega (BL)
Chapter 150: Close

Chapter 150: Close

I walk down the line of prison cells, my boots crunching against the gravel with each step. The air is thick and stale, a mixture of sweat, blood, and the kind of damp rot that clings to stone walls. Every breath feels heavy, yet I force myself forward, clutching the small, enchanted ring given to me by Duke Remiro. It pulses faintly in my hand, its magic a silent companion, masking my presence from prying eyes and warding off unwanted attention. It’s moments like these where the old Duke’s secretive gift proves its worth.

The torchlight flickers uneasily as I move deeper into the darkness, casting wild shadows that slither along the cell walls. I can feel my anger simmering beneath my skin, threatening to boil over, but I hold it back. Focus. There will be time for rage later. Right now, there’s only the mission, the purpose driving me here.

I reach the end of the corridor, where the air is coldest and reeks the most. The cell before me is nothing more than a cage of misery, the iron bars thick with rust and grime. My heart clenches when I step closer, the sight before me sending a surge of raw fury and sorrow coursing through my veins.

"Ben," I choke out, my voice echoing in the stillness. I don’t recognize the broken man slumped against the wall at first. The chains bite into his gaunt wrists, holding him up more than his own strength can. His frame, once powerful and imposing, is now skeletal, his face sunken, covered in bruises and dried blood. The proud, unyielding giant I knew is gone, replaced by this hollow shell.

"Ben!" I call louder, desperation leaking into my tone as I rush forward. Dropping to my knees on the filthy ground, I reach for him, my hands trembling. His head lolls to the side, and I press my palm to his cheek, cold and clammy. His eyes are barely open, two glazed orbs that struggle to focus on me.

"Come on, Ben," I whisper, swallowing down the lump forming in my throat. I can’t afford to break down now. I tap his face gently, trying to stir him, willing him to recognize me. "Stay with me."

A weak, guttural sound escapes his lips, something that might’ve once been a groan. My heart shatters at the sound, at the frail state of a man who used to be a fortress of strength. Without wasting another moment, I summon my telekinesis, the familiar pull of magic responding to my rage and urgency. The iron chains snap free from their holds, clattering to the floor, and Ben collapses forward, straight into my arms. His body is heavy, even now, though it shouldn’t be. He was never supposed to feel this fragile, this broken.

"Got you," I murmur, my voice rough. I clutch him tightly, supporting his weight, feeling every jagged bone beneath his torn shirt. Roman steps forward from the shadows, his expression as hard and furious as my own. Without a word, he helps me lift Ben, and together, we haul the barely conscious man between us.

We move swiftly, a shared urgency in every step as we leave the hellish prison behind. My jaw clenches, my teeth grinding together.

*

Two days pass, and when Ben finally opens his eyes, a wave of relief washes over me. Seeing him awake and slowly regaining his strength gives me hope, though the anger simmering in my chest hasn’t waned. Ben has always been tough, an unbreakable wall when it comes to loyalty, and I can see that resilience shining through even as he recovers from his torment.

When he manages to sit up, his voice comes out rough and strained, but his words cut through me like a knife. The bastards who captured Noelle and Mona had been after something specific: me. Their goal was clear—extract my name from Ben and then kill me, Noelle’s husband. To ensure their leverage, they took Mona with them, probably hoping that seeing her in danger would break Ben’s spirit. But they underestimated him, underestimated the iron will of the man, he had stayed silent for six long months.

Six months. My jaw clenches at the thought, at the suffering Ben endured to protect me. They kept him alive, knowing he was their only lead to me, and though he suffered starvation and beatings, they didn’t resort to more extreme measures. I shudder to think what might have happened if they had known how to inflict true pain, how to torture him for real. The guards in this backwater town were brutal but not sophisticated. In their ignorance, they had spared him from something much worse.

Now, I have a lead. Ben recalls overhearing something during his imprisonment: the guards mentioned that the orders came directly from the main office in the capital of Vitra. The capital city. Twice as large as Aspen’s capital city but at least we have a direction now, a destination instead of wandering aimlessly like headless chickens.

I leave Ben in the care of some of our trusted men. They’ll protect him and help him get back to full health. Roman and I prepare to head for the capital, determination driving us forward. I board a carriage for the first time in a while, the steady rhythm of the wheels on the dirt road feeling strangely unfamiliar. I’ve been riding horseback for months, driven by the urgency of my search, but now that we have a clear target, I force myself to endure the slower pace.

***

Three days later, we finally arrive in the capital. It’s midday, and the sun hangs high in the sky, casting its harsh light over the bustling, formidable city. The first thing I notice is the massive moat that surrounds the capital, its waters glinting like a mirrored shield against any who might think to breach the walls. A line of carriages stretches ahead of us, forming a slow-moving traffic jam, each one waiting to be inspected at the colossal, iron-studded gates that guard the entrance.

The walls themselves are intimidating, towering structures of stone, thick and impenetrable. I find myself wondering if Raul, with all his strength, could bring them down. He could, I reason, but it would take time, effort, and probably more attention than we’d want to draw. A siege against a place like this would be an entirely different game, and one I’d rather not play unless absolutely necessary.

Guards patrol the top of the walls, their silhouettes sharp and alert, weapons glinting in the sun. As our carriage inches forward, I let out a breath and draw the curtain closed, shutting out the imposing sight. I lean back in my seat, the worn leather creaking slightly beneath me. The journey has been long, and though my body craves rest, my mind remains restless, a storm of thoughts and plans spinning in my head.