The scent of roses masked the stench of death.
Adam stood before the grand gates of the enchanted palace, its towering spires glowing under the silver moonlight. Ryan and Jasmine flanked him, awe-struck by the grandeur before them. The ancient stones they had seen earlier, etched with riddles about three paths—Wealth, Death, and Beauty—had led them here.
"This… must be the one with beauty," Ryan said, eyes locked on the glowing walls.
Adam chuckled darkly. "And you're still curious."
"I mean, how bad can beauty be?" Ryan replied with a smirk.
Jasmine didn't answer. Her eyes, however, lingered on the shimmering curtains beyond the palace windows—where silhouettes of dancing women passed in graceful arcs. A flicker of intrigue sparkled in her gaze, something Ryan didn't catch.
The trio dismounted. Just as Adam touched the doorknob, the massive doors creaked open. A wave of perfumed air spilled out, warm and intoxicating.
The Queen of Illusions
She appeared like a dream—golden gown flowing like liquid sunlight, black hair cascading down her back, and eyes gleaming with seduction. Her beauty wasn't mortal. She moved toward Adam like a lover returning from war, wrapping him in a soft embrace and pressing her lips gently to his cheek.
"Welcome… Adam," she whispered, though he had never told her his name.
A red flag. But Adam kept his composure.
"I have waited for you," she said, her voice dripping like honey. "Come. Rest. You are home now."
She took his hand, warm and soft, and led him into a palace lined with gold. The furniture adjusted itself to the comfort of its guests. Silver trays appeared out of thin air with delicacies no one could name. Candles floated mid-air, casting soft shadows across polished marble.
But the deeper Adam went, the colder it felt.
As they reached the royal dining chamber, he glanced at a mirror mounted on the wall. Something flickered.
For a moment, the Queen's reflection wasn't her. Her true face was that of a decaying, hollow-eyed demoness wrapped in illusion. Adam froze. His instincts screamed louder than ever.
The Queen moved closer. Her hand traced his chest. "You're a man of great strength, yet I sense pain beneath. I can give you rest. Peace. Pleasure."
Her eyes glowed, the air thick with enchantment.
Adam gripped his sword hilt under the table. "Even poison tastes sweet… until it kills," he whispered.
She leaned in for a kiss.
Adam slammed her against the mirror. The glass shattered, revealing more illusions—hidden bones of past victims, faces twisted in horror.
"You thought I'd fall for this?" he growled.
She snarled, her beauty peeling away, revealing the true form beneath—a dark sorceress with jagged teeth and claws.
A hidden dagger slid from her sleeve, but Adam was faster.
He drove his sword through her heart.
She screeched as the glamour shattered entirely. The golden gown burned away, revealing her monstrous body as it slumped to the floor.
The palace groaned. The magic holding it together began to fade.
The Prisoners of the Palace
Adam ran toward the back halls, using keys he'd taken from the Queen's lifeless body. He kicked open a hidden iron door. Inside were cages—men and women, skin hanging on bone, eyes dulled by hopelessness.
"You're free," he roared. "Move!"
Some wept. Others hesitated, thinking it was another illusion. But one stepped forward. "Are you real?" he asked.
Adam broke the man's chains. "As real as your hunger."
The prisoners surged forward. Adam led them out just as the palace began to collapse behind them, bricks falling like meteors.
Before the structure gave way completely, Adam dashed into the Queen's hidden vault. Gold, emeralds, enchanted scrolls, and blades made of ancient metal filled the room.
He filled his sack with enough to last them for months—leaving the rest for the freed prisoners, who would need it far more.
As the palace behind him crumbled into dust, Adam carved a new message into the stone at the crossroads:
> "I, Adam the Cursed, have faced beauty and found deception.
I have denied pleasure and found truth."
While Adam battled illusions, Jasmine and Ryan had been separated within the palace's trick walls.
Ryan, isolated in a hall of mirrors, fought phantom versions of himself—warrior copies with his face but none of his heart. It was a test of will, not strength. He shattered the final mirror by trusting his instincts, realizing the enemy was fear, not flesh.
Jasmine, however, found herself in a luxurious garden, surrounded by women with eyes like gems and skin that glowed under moonlight. They spoke softly, flirted, and tempted. One, a woman named Zaria, drew closer. Their conversation turned intimate, and Jasmine surprised even herself when she leaned in… but stopped. Her heart raced—not from passion, but confusion. She realized then, she wasn't like other women. Not entirely.
She pulled away and demanded to see through the illusion. The garden faded, revealing a prison of vines trying to suffocate her. Jasmine set it all ablaze with the flames of her fury.
Later that evening, Adam, Ryan, and Jasmine reunited at the three-way path again.
Adam leaned on his sword, face hardened.
Jasmine said nothing at first, only nodded. Her eyes still flickered with thoughts of Zaria.
Ryan stretched and said, "Well, that was insane."
Adam smirked. "Still think the path of beauty is safe?"
Ryan chuckled, "Hey, she was beautiful. Just... venomous."
Adam turned toward the path of wealth, which now pulsed with ominous energy. "Let's see what deception guards treasure."
And with that, they rode forward—scarred but wiser, toward the next mystery of the world.
As the trio rode from the ruins of the enchanted palace—ashes and magic crumbling behind them—Adam felt it.
That old, familiar itch at the back of his neck. The sense of being watched. Hunted.
He didn't flinch. Didn't turn his head. Just rode steadily.
But Maximus, his steed, snorted uneasily.
Behind them, hidden within the shadows of a dying tree, stood a cloaked figure—tall, silent, and patient. He held a metallic raven in his palm, whispering ancient words into its ear. The raven shimmered, then launched into the sky like a ghostly arrow, flapping northwest toward the mountains.
This cloaked man had no name, only a purpose. Sent by the hidden leaders of the north—the same family that had long watched Adam's rising fame with quiet dread. Sahabi's uncles were no ordinary men; they feared prophecy, feared bloodlines, and most of all—feared Adam's children.
The man's eyes, barely visible beneath the cloak, lingered on Jasmine for a while longer than the rest.
He murmured into the wind, "The girl... she's awakening."
Then vanished into the mist.
Later That Night...
As they set camp near a quiet stream, Jasmine slipped beside Adam, crouching by the fire without a word. She looked across the dark woods, her tone low.
"We're being followed."
"I know," Adam replied, feeding the fire with dry sticks.
"You've known for a while."
He gave a slight nod. "Since when facing those bandits."
Ryan looked up from his meal, startled. "Wait, what?"
Adam looked into the flames. "He's skilled. Doesn't leave footprints, doesn't stir wind. But Maximus senses him. So do I. So does Jasmine."
Ryan glanced at her. "Why haven't we stopped him?"
Adam's eyes darkened. "Because I want to know who he answers to. If we kill him, they'll just send another. I want them to believe we haven't noticed yet."
Jasmine scoffed slightly. "I could've put an arrow through his throat by now."
Adam placed a calming hand on hers. "Not yet. The game is deeper. And more dangerous. We wait."
Ryan stared at the trees, suddenly aware of the silence.
"Do you think he's the reason we were separated inside the palace?"
Adam looked up at the sky. "No. But I think he was watching the whole time… waiting to see who would fall."
A long silence followed. Only the crackle of fire spoke.
Finally, Jasmine asked, "And what if he gets too close?"
Adam's voice was steady, cold. "Then we'll show him what happens when you play with fire."