"I know the palace's ins and outs. I can do this," Maji murmured to himself, trying to steady his racing heart.
He waited in the silence of the cave, listening intently. Until everyone was asleep, their snores rising in the stillness like a gentle storm. The night was his.
With cautious, deliberate steps, Maji moved across the room toward the corner where Ham had stashed the sleeping powder. His fingers brushed the sachet as he took it. Without hesitation, he walked to the barrel of wine, his heart pounding with the weight of what he was about to do.
He poured the powder into the wine, watching as it dissolved instantly, like the final piece of his plan falling into place.
With all his strength, Maji hoisted the barrel, its weight making his arms ache. He couldn't afford to falter. He carried it out of the cave, his steps quiet but hurried, like the ticking of a clock counting down to his success—or his failure.
As he approached the group of the camped soldiers, their voices and laughter filled the air. Some were playing cards, others distracted by their phones, their eyes flicking lazily between the screen and the firelight.
Maji's eyes locked onto the guard who had whipped him just the day before, the memory of the pain sharp in his mind. His lips curled into a tight smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"My mother sent this to appease you," Maji said, his voice steady but cold, the words coming out smoother than he felt. He set the barrel down near the guard, his movements deliberate. Then, he stepped back just a little, watching them closely.
The guard raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting between Maji and the barrel. "What is this?"
"A special wine brewed by the Depas," Maji explained, his tone smooth as silk. "Used only during important occasions. One sip, and it will knock you out. Only Depas can drink ten shots without passing out."
The guard snorted, clearly unconvinced. "No wine knocks you out with one sip," he said, his voice filled with doubt. "And the Depas are the only ones who can drink ten shots? Please, don't joke with me, kid. Elves are stronger than them. How could you say only Depas can handle that?"
Maji felt a flicker of annoyance but swallowed it down. He had no time for this. "How about you see for yourself?" He said, his voice laced with challenge, before turning and bolting back to the cave.
He knew the soldiers. They loved their liquor. Some of them were already grinning at the challenge, eager to prove him wrong. One after another, they raised their cups and took shots. They laughed at first, daring each other to keep going.
And then, one by one, they began to fall. The laughter died as their bodies slumped, heavy with the effects of the wine. The last man to fall barely managed a grunt before his head hit the ground. Silence settled over the group like a thick blanket.
Maji waited thirty minutes, counting the moments in his head. The quiet outside was thick, suffocating. He stepped out, his heart pounding in his chest.
The soldiers who had been resting were now deeply asleep, some of them still in their positions around the campfire, others sprawled on the ground. Some had fallen naturally due to their exhaustion for the day, while others were victims of the wine.
The patrols had slowed, their numbers dwindling as more of the guards succumbed to trying the wine.
But two soldiers remained, standing by the gates of the imperial palace. The last line of defense.
Maji cursed under his breath. Of course.
He silently moved toward the two soldiers who had been sitting against the cave wall. They were deep in sleep, their heads lulled back, bodies relaxed.
He glanced down at their half-filled cups, still sitting on the ground beside them. Taking them carefully, he carried the cups over to the two guards at the gates.
"I've been ordered to give you this," Maji said, his voice calm and authoritative, but with a slight edge of impatience. He held out the two half-filled glasses of liquor, his hands steady despite the tension in his chest.
The guard with the long black ponytail eyed the glasses with suspicion. "Why are they half-filled?" he asked, his tone tinged with doubt.
"Because they're strong enough to knock you out with just one sip," Maji replied smoothly, his eyes flicking over both guards. His heart hammered in his chest. This was the last step. The final chance.
The other guard shook his head, scowling. "Take it away. We don't drink," he said, his voice firm as he turned his gaze away.
Maji felt a surge of frustration but forced himself to stay calm. What is wrong with these men? he thought bitterly. He placed the glasses down near the guards, then began to turn away. He had done his part.
But then the guard with the ponytail leaned forward, his curiosity getting the better of him. He glanced at the glasses, then at his partner. "A sip won't knock us out, right?"
"Ted, don't even think about it," the other guard warned, his voice low and serious.
But Ted wasn't listening. He licked his lips, leaning closer to the glass. "C'mon, it smells heavenly," he muttered, his voice full of temptation. "And our shift's almost over."
The other guard sighed in resignation. "Fine. You drink it, but count me out."
Ted grinned and grabbed the glass, taking a long sip. He immediately froze, his eyes widening. "This is sweet! You're at a loss, man," he said, his voice full of disbelief. "You'll never have wine like this again."
The other guard licked his lips. "Okay, fine. Just a mouthful," he muttered, reaching for the other glass.
He took a deep gulp, then blinked in surprise. "It really does taste great," he admitted, his voice more relaxed now.
Maji, hidden behind the cave walls, couldn't help but do a little victory dance in his mind. His heart surged with adrenaline as he heard the guards start to snore, one after another.
Within moments, both guards were sprawled out, completely unconscious.
Without wasting a second, Maji dashed toward them, carefully removing the gate key from one of the soldier's belts. He unlocked the gate with a quiet click, then slipped out into the imperial palace with a wicked grin on his face.
A group of three guards passed by, unaware of his presence. He pressed himself against the shadows, staying as still as possible.
As soon as they moved on, Maji quickly ducked behind a pillar and waited for the next patrol to pass, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of movement.
This was it. The palace—his home once—loomed ahead of him. Every corner, every hidden passage, every secret door was etched into his memory. The locket he sought was hidden deep in an underground chamber, where the emperor stores the most dangerous and powerful weapons.
Maji had seen them before—back when he had been a prince. The emperor had boasted of their history, their significance. But he had never mentioned the locket. Maybe he hadn't wanted Maji to know about it.
But Maji knew it was there. He pressed his hand against a secret panel in the wall, feeling the cool stone shift as the hidden passageway flickered open, just as a group of guards came into view.
He slipped through the door and ran down the familiar path. He knew where every step led—this was the secret route he and his elder brother had designed long ago it led directly to their rooms.
Finally, he reached the massive black door that bore his name. A cold shiver ran down his spine. He hadn't seen it in for some few days.
He punched in the security code on the door's screen, holding his breath. The door clicked open.
Inside, the sight of his old, lavish room hit him like a punch to the gut. But there was no time for nostalgia. He moved quickly, bypassing the grand portrait of himself in purple robes standing beside his mother. The image tugged at his heart, but he pushed past it.
His fingers grazed the edge of the frame, pushing a hidden button. The picture slid aside to reveal a hidden tunnel.
With a deep breath, Maji jumped into the dark passageway, sliding down until his feet hit the floor. His heart raced as he moved forward, knowing the path was secret—just for the emperor's trusted allies.
He followed the winding corridors, his eyes scanning the ancient runes that were draw on the walls. Then, at the end of the hall, he saw it.
The glowing blue door.
The door that could only be opened by blood that had been registered through a specific ritual. The ritual required a person to offer their blood in a sacred ceremony, which was then bound to the door's magic.
This process, known only to a select few, involved a person's blood being marked during a private rite.
Once the blood was offered and the ritual completed, the magic recognized it, allowing the door to open only to that individual—or anyone whose blood had been officially registered in the process.
Without this ritual, no one could pass, no matter their intentions. He had been his uncle's favourite and was the first in line to register.
With a steady hand, Maji pricked his finger with his claws, depas had claws instead of nails, drawing a single drop of blood.
He let it fall into the glowing hole. The magic inside the door pulsed and shifted, turning from blue to green.
The door creaked open.
Inside, the chamber was bathed in an eerie, glow. Weapons of unimaginable power lined the walls, their magic still radiating from centuries past.
And there it was. The locket, resting on a stone pedestal, its crystalline thread pulsing with fiery red light. The front shone with a bright orange.
Maji stepped forward and grabbed it, feeling its energy surge through him. He didn't wait—he had what he came for.
He turned and retraced his steps, slipping back through the secret passages with the same careful stealth.
When he reached the gates, he replaced the key and snuck back out, sliding into the bushes to hide.
He could hear the quiet snores of the guards, oblivious to the heist that had just unfolded.