Content Warning:
This arc contains depictions of toxic relationships, emotional abuse, manipulation, cycles of abuse, drugging (love potions/ spells), physical torment, and psychological trauma.Please proceed with caution if these themes may be triggering for you. Your well-being comes first.
Anagan took in his surroundings with a sense of awe and unease. The castle was a striking contrast to the dim, narrow alleyways he had known for so long. Everything about this place seemed extravagant—alien, even. The polished marble floors shimmered with veins of gold, their cold surface reflecting the soft, warm light pouring in through towering bay windows. Sunlight flooded the halls, casting long shadows that flickered like ghosts against the stone walls. Ornate tapestries hung from the ceilings, depicting scenes of battles, magic, and kingdoms he had only heard of in rumors.
The linings on the pillars and the intricate carvings in the walls were like nothing he'd ever seen. Every step he took echoed through the hall as Ogron led him to a room at the end of the corridor—a comfortable-looking space, perhaps an office with a bed nestled against the far wall. To Anagan, it might as well have been a palace within a palace. He'd never had a bedroom. He'd never had a home. And until now, he had never known what it was like to have someone take an interest in him.
Ogron watched him, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, clearly amused by the thief's wonder. "When you're ready," Ogron began, his tone smooth, almost too smooth, "we can discuss what it would mean to join the Black Circle—what it would mean to represent me."
His voice had a strange, sickly sweetness to it, like honey laced with poison. Anagan shifted uncomfortably, the thickness of Ogron's kindness unsettling him. It felt too warm, too deliberate. There was something about this man—no, something about this entire place—that didn't sit right with him.
Suddenly, Ogron let out a dramatic gasp, feigning shock. "Oh, where are my manners? I am a king, and here I've never even caught your name—nor have I properly introduced myself." He straightened up, his eyes gleaming. "I am Ogron. And you are?"
Anagan hesitated. Something twisted in his gut at the idea of giving this man his name. It felt dangerous, like a step he couldn't take back. But he swallowed the feeling down and forced himself to speak.
"I'm Anagan," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I may not be a king or anything like that, but I'd say I'm the fastest thief on Earth. That's something."
Ogron's face lit up, his smile widening in delight. He clapped his hands together, a high-pitched giggle escaping him. Anagan couldn't help but think he was by far the strangest person he had ever met. And that was saying something.
Anagan quickly remembered why he was here in the first place. This strange king wanted him to join a coven of some sort—or at least that's what he gathered from it. He cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure.
"So, uh, I obviously have some questions about all this," Anagan said, gesturing vaguely at the castle and the situation as a whole.
Ogron's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oh, of course, Ana. Go right ahead,~" he purred, his voice dripping with mock politeness.
Anagan ignored the nickname. "What is the Black Circle, exactly? And why do you need someone else? I mean, you're the king of the magical dimension, right? Surely, you can achieve whatever you're trying to do on your own, right?"
Ogron's smile faltered ever so slightly. "You are correct," he said, his voice lowering. "I did inherit this kingdom. I didn't exactly fight for it the way my predecessor had. It was simply… bestowed upon me." His eyes flickered with something darker before he continued. "And yes, I've fought many wars, led dangerous excursions, but Earth is different. It's my main goal. I was born there, you know. Earth is… isolated. Don't you think it deserves to be part of something bigger?"
"Wait, you were born on Earth?" Anagan raised an eyebrow. "How did you end up here?"
"Oh yes, silly me," Ogron replied with a casual wave of his hand. "I was adopted by a loving, loving father." There was a sharp edge to his voice as he emphasized the word 'loving.' The way he said it sent a chill down Anagan's spine.
Anagan shifted uncomfortably. "And what about you?" Ogron asked, his tone shifting again, almost too innocent. "Where are your parents? Certainly, you weren't born on the streets."
Anagan sighed, the weight of his past settling heavily on his shoulders. "Actually, I've been a thief for as long as I can remember. Pretty sure I was abandoned the second I could walk."
Ogron's face softened into something that resembled pity, though Anagan couldn't be sure if it was real. "So, you've never experienced proper love, then?" Ogron's voice dripped with sympathy, but there was something hollow about it.
"I guess not," Anagan mumbled, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach. He hated the way this conversation was going. It felt too personal, too invasive.
Ogron smiled again, that too-sweet grin returning. "Well, if you join me, you'll get plenty of that! Joining the Black Circle means aligning yourself with a brotherhood. People who understand you. People who want you around. And, of course, there are benefits—good food, a warm place to sleep, safety."
Anagan narrowed his eyes, his instincts flaring up again. "What's the catch?" he asked, his voice sharp. "What are the downsides? I've been alive long enough to know nothing is free and nothing is all good all the time."
Ogron's smile twisted into something more sinister. "Oh, Ana, I'm an honest man. Tying yourself to the Black Circle wouldn't necessarily limit your magical abilities, but it would bind you in a web—an intricate web between you, the Circle, and me. It's not so easy to untangle, should you ever wish to."
He paused, his eyes darkening. "And there's also the matter of my leadership. I am kind, benevolent, and very, very loving. But actions have consequences, and I am not afraid to enforce them with a heavy hand."
A wave of nausea washed over Anagan. The way Ogron spoke was unsettling, his voice thick with sweetness but laced with something far more dangerous. It was like the room was slowly closing in on him, and the air grew heavier with every word.
Ogron extended his hand, a small black circle appearing just above his palm. "Well then, little rabbit," he said softly, his voice a whisper against Anagan's ears. "What do you say?"
Anagan swallowed hard, his mind racing. He remembered the redhead's earlier threat of turning him back into a rabbit, and though he didn't like feeling trapped, he couldn't ignore the fear gnawing at him. Something about this felt all wrong.
"I'll… think about it," Anagan managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper.
For a moment, the words hung heavy in the air, and Anagan regretted them immediately. His heart pounded in his chest as he watched Ogron's reaction. The king simply sighed, the tension in the room palpable.
"Very well then," Ogron said, turning toward the door. "I'll ask again in three days. In the meantime, feel free to explore the castle. The servants will obey you as if you were me. Just remember—stay away from the dungeon."
With that, Ogron sauntered out of the room, leaving Anagan alone in the eerie silence. The air still felt thick, as though something sinister lingered in the shadows. Anagan glanced around the opulent room, wondering if maybe—just maybe—he had made the worst decision of his life.
But then again, was it really that bad if he was in a castle?