Prologue
The prison floated in the heart of a vast sea of molten rock, a jagged black structure half-swallowed by the glowing magma. Thick bolts of purple and green mist coiled around its outer walls , a living barrier that would kill anyone who approached with the intent to harm or escape. The air itself shimmered with heat and quiet threat.
The Doctor’s TARDIS materialised at the narrow entry platform with a low, protesting groan. The doors creaked open, and he stepped out into the oppressive heat.
His brown hair stuck up in its usual wild, erratic style. He wore a brown-and-blue checked suit, white shirt, grey tie, a long blue coat that fluttered slightly in the superheated air, and a pair of scuffed grey Converse.
He closed the TARDIS doors behind him and shoved his hands deep into his pockets, rocking slightly on his heels as he took in the bleak surroundings.
Two Judoon came marching toward him in perfect unison, their thick black helmets gleaming dully under the molten light. They stopped directly in front of him.
“Doctor,” the lead Judoon intoned in its deep, mechanical voice. “We were not expecting you to visit after the trial.”
The Doctor bounced lightly on the balls of his feet. “Well… I think it’s time I came to check on him. See if he’s all right.”
The Judoon regarded him for a moment. “He has not spoken a word since the trial. When you see him, we must warn you, Doctor, he appears… distant.”
The Doctor’s expression flickered, just for a second, before he gave a short nod. “Understood.”
The two Judoon turned in perfect sync and began marching toward the towering iron doors of the prison. The Doctor followed, his Converse crunching softly over the rock-dusted platform.
All around them, prison ships drifted through the toxic mist, some delivering new prisoners, others ferrying the condemned toward abandoned worlds like Caster.
At the thought of Caster, the Doctor’s throat tightened. He swallowed hard. That was the planet where he had taken Grace… the same planet where the Master had stolen her away.
Two years had passed since then. Two years since he had left her behind on Earth, insisting she deserved a normal life. He had even asked UNIT to offer her a position, hoping she might stay connected somehow.
But Kate Stewart had later informed him that Grace had declined, politely but firmly, saying she needed nothing more from the Doctor.
So he had tried to push her to the back of his mind.
It never worked for long.
Every so often her face would flash behind his eyes, the way she had looked at him that final night, the quiet ache in her voice, and the frustration would build until he found himself flying the TARDIS to the most remote planets he could find, just so he could scream into the emptiness until his throat was raw.
Now, as the great iron doors of the prison began to grind open, the Doctor squared his shoulders and followed the Judoon inside, the memory of Grace still lingering like a bruise he could never quite ignore.
The Doctor followed the Judoon into a vast, open foyer. Dark grey metal walls stretched endlessly upward, vanishing into shadow. Floating orbs of cold light drifted through the air, illuminating the space in flickering patches and casting long, distorted shadows across the floor.
The temperature dropped sharply the moment they entered; the Doctor shivered and pulled his coat a little tighter around himself.
They descended a wide set of stone stairs that led deeper into the darkness. As they reached the bottom, the floating lights followed, brightening just enough to reveal the corridor ahead.
The Judoon finally stopped in front of a heavy black door. Intricate Gallifreyan patterns moved slowly across its surface like living circuitry. The guards stepped back without a word.
The Doctor approached the door and pressed his palm flat against the cool metal, issuing a silent command in his mind. He had designed this door himself, no one else in the universe could open it. Food and necessities were delivered through a small hatch near the floor. With a deep, reluctant groan, the door unlocked and clicked open.
He glanced back at the Judoon. “I won’t be long.”
They remained silent. The Doctor pushed the door open and stepped inside, letting it close behind him with a heavy, final bang.
The cell was divided by a thick glass barrier. Beyond it sat a simple bed, a desk, a chair, and a bookcase so crammed with volumes that books were stacked horizontally on top of one another. The air felt colder still.
The Master sat on the floor with his back to the glass, eyes closed. Even so, a slow, sly smile curved his lips the moment he sensed who had entered.
The Doctor took a step closer, then stopped. One entire wall of the cell was covered in elegant, repeated handwriting. Over and over again, in careful, almost obsessive strokes, was a single name:
Grace.
The Doctor’s mouth tightened into a thin line. He forced his gaze back to the seated figure.
“Well,” he said dryly, “I’m glad to see you’re making use of the wall space.”
The Master’s eyes opened. He rose slowly, rolling his shoulders with deliberate care before turning to face the glass.
Two years had changed him. A short, boxed beard covered his jaw, paired with a neatly trimmed moustache. Threads of grey had begun to appear in the beard and at the temples of his dark hair. He wore the plain white prison shirt and trousers with quiet dignity, saying nothing as he simply watched the Doctor.
The Doctor exhaled. “How are you?”
One of the Master’s eyebrows lifted. Then he threw his head back and laughed, a sharp, echoing sound that bounced off the glass and the stone walls.
“How am I?” he repeated, still laughing. He brushed an imaginary piece of lint from his sleeve, then his voice dropped into something colder. “How do you think I am, Doctor?”
The Doctor scrubbed a hand down his face, exhaustion and guilt written in every line. “Koschei… I’m sorry that you’re here. But what choice did I have?”
The Master laughed again, a bitter, sharp sound, and walked slowly toward the glass until he was almost pressed against it. His breath fogged the surface as he spoke, eyes locked on the Doctor with cold intensity.
“I’m not angry about the prison,” he said quietly. “I’m angry because you never let me see her one last time. And because, in the end, you left her too. Why didn’t you just let me leave with her? I could have made her happy. But no, you had to play the hero.”
The Doctor blinked, caught off guard by the rawness in his brother’s voice. “After two years… and you’re still this hooked on Grace?”
The Master flinched as if struck. His expression twisted.
“Don’t you dare speak her name,” he snarled. “You don’t get to say her name. You left her on Earth. You had the perfect opportunity to go back for her when you dumped me in this place, and you stayed away. Why, Doctor? Why?”
“Because it was the right thing to do,” the Doctor snapped, voice rising. “If I had never let her go, she would have ended up dead, killed by someone because of my feelings and your feelings for her. We’ve made enemies across centuries, Koschei. Creatures and people who would have come after her without hesitation.”
The Master slammed his palm hard against the glass. The impact echoed through the cell.
“What makes you think she’s any safer on Earth without our protection?”
“I have people watching over her,” the Doctor muttered, looking away.
The Master’s jaw clenched so tightly a muscle jumped in his cheek. “You’re a coward,” he said, low and venomous. “You always have been.”
The Doctor let out a long, tired breath. “Maybe.”
The Master’s eyes narrowed, burning with something between rage and desperation. “I want to see her.”
“No,” the Doctor said immediately, the word sharp and final.
The Master’s face twisted with pure, unfiltered fury. He slammed both hands against the glass this time, the impact rattling the barrier.
“No?” he repeated, voice rising. “You stand there and tell me no? After everything, after you took her from me, after you locked me in this cage, after you abandoned her on that miserable little planet, you still think you get to decide?”
The Doctor’s fists clenched at his sides. “It’s not about deciding. It’s about keeping her alive.”
“Alive?” The Master let out a harsh, almost hysterical laugh. “You call what you did keeping her alive? You ripped her out of our lives and left her to rot in some quiet little existence, pretending she never mattered. Do you know what that does to someone like her? Someone who felt everything so deeply?” His voice dropped into a low, venomous growl. “She loved us both. And you threw that away because you were too much of a coward to face the consequences.”
“Don’t you dare lecture me about consequences,” the Doctor snapped, stepping closer to the glass until they were almost nose-to-nose. “You’re the one who dragged her into your games. You’re the one who used her, who marked her, who made her choose between us while holding a laser screwdriver to my chest. You pushed her off a wall, Koschei. You tried to kill her.”
The Master’s eyes flashed. For a moment something almost like pain crossed his face, then it was gone, replaced by cold fury.
“I lost control,” he said through gritted teeth. “Because you were there. Because you always ruin everything. If you had stayed away that night, none of this would have happened. She would still be with me. She would have chosen me.”
“She never would have chosen only you,” the Doctor shot back, voice raw. “And deep down you know it. That’s what eats at you, isn’t it? That even when she was in your arms, part of her still belonged to me.”
The Master’s expression went deadly still. Then he smiled, a slow, dangerous smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“And part of her still belongs to me,” he said softly. “You can lock me away for a thousand years, Doctor. You can keep me from seeing her face. But you will never erase what I gave her… or what she felt when she was with me.” He leaned closer, voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Tell me the truth. When you close your eyes at night… do you still see her looking at me the way she used to?”
The Doctor’s jaw tightened. He didn’t answer.
The Master’s smile widened, cruel and knowing. “That’s what I thought.”
The Doctor straightened, his expression closing off like a door slamming shut. “I only came to see if you were all right,” he said flatly. “Now I know you are. I’m leaving. I’ll check on you again in another two years.”
The Master’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of something darker, almost prophetic, crossing his face as the Doctor turned and began walking toward the door.
“Something is coming, Doctor,” the Master called after him, voice low and certain. “I can feel it. And you will need my help sooner than you think.”
The Doctor didn’t stop. He didn’t even glance back. He simply placed his palm against the heavy black door, issuing the silent command. The door groaned in protest, then clicked open.
Without another word, the Doctor stepped through and pulled it shut behind him with a heavy, final slam that echoed through the cold corridor.
The sound of the locking mechanisms engaging rang out like a judgement, leaving the Master alone once more behind the glass, and the Doctor walking away with his brother’s warning still hanging in the air.
