Chapter 7: The Dungeon of Shadows

Late that night, while Alex was away gathering wild herbs on Mount Parnassus, a battalion of fifty heavily armed ducal guards surrounded the cottage.

They kicked open the door, bound Irene in heavy dark-iron chains, and dragged her away into the night.

When morning dawned, Irene found herself chained inside the iron cage of the Grand Arena Dungeon—a subterranean pit beneath Athens where condemned criminals and wild beasts were kept.

Lord Hector, Cassandra, Lady Cynthia, and Duke Vane stood on the raised stone balcony above the pit, looking down at her like spectators at a circus.

“Where is your beggar husband now, Irene?” Cassandra taunted, her jeweled fingers clutching the stone railing. “Will he sing another song to rescue you from cold iron?”

Irene lifted her head, her face bruised but her eyes burning with fierce courage. “You cowards! You attack in the dark because you fear him!”

Lord Hector spat into the pit. “Fear a beggar? I have posted two hundred crossbowmen along the arena walls. The moment your bard steps into this arena, he will be turned into a pincushion!”

Duke Vane raised his hand, signaling the dungeon master. “Release the iron gate! Let the starved lions tear her apart if the bard does not appear in five minutes!”

The heavy iron gate at the end of the pit creaked open. Two massive, ravenous lions charged out into the arena, their roars echoing off the cold stone walls as they caught the scent of blood.

Irene braced herself against the stone wall, clutching the golden pebble Alex had given her close to her chest. “Alex…”

Outside the arena, the morning sun reached its highest point in the sky.

Suddenly, the daylight vanished.

Not into clouds or night, but into a blinding, crimson-golden glare that engulfed the entire sky above Athens! The temperature across the city surged, causing the waters of the arena moat to instantly boil and evaporate into thick white steam!

BOOM!

The massive iron-reinforced stone gates of the Grand Arena collapsed inward, exploding into golden dust!

Through the swirling dust and heat haze walked a figure.

He wore no ragged grey cloak. He wore no tattered sandals.

Clad in armor forged of pure, radiant solar fire, with a golden halo hovering behind his head and a divine golden bow in his left hand, Alex stepped into the arena pit.

Every step he took melted the stone floor into glowing magma beneath his feet.

The two wild lions instantly dropped to their bellies, whimpering like frightened kittens and pressing their faces into the ash.

The two hundred crossbowmen along the arena walls screamed as their steel weapons instantly burst into flames in their hands, forcing them to drop their arms and tumble to their knees.

Duke Vane, Lord Hector, and Cassandra recoiled in absolute terror, their skin scorching from the sheer divine heat radiating off his body.

Alex slowly lifted his head. His eyes were no longer human—they were twin miniature suns burning with eternal, righteous wrath.

“You dared to chain my bride,” a voice echoed—not from his lips, but from the heavens themselves, shaking the very foundations of the earth. “Mortals… your time of judgment has arrived.”