Night had draped its heavy cloak over the castle and the lands beyond. Inside the mountains, night mirrored day—dark, still, suffocating with silence. I began my first watch, perched on the cliff''s edge, eyes tracing every shadow, ears tuned to every rustle. The air felt thick, pressing against my chest.


    Too quiet. Until it wasn''t.


    A flicker of motion snagged my gaze—a cloaked figure darting across the castle rooftops, swift as a specter.


    My pulse kicked hard. I shook Torglel awake, gripping his shoulder. "Torglel, it''s showtime."


    He snapped upright, sleep fleeing his eyes in an instant. "Where?"


    I pointed to the silhouette weaving through the night. We locked eyes—a wordless pact—and moved.


    I sprinted for the cliff''s edge and leapt into the void. Torglel followed, fearless as ever. Wind roared past, clawing at my face, as we slid down the jagged cliffside. Boots scraped stone, sparks spitting beneath us, adrenaline flooding my veins like wildfire. We hit the ground at a dead run, the impact jarring my knees.


    I vaulted onto the nearest rooftop, boots slamming tiles, matching the assassin''s pace. Below, Torglel thundered through the streets, hammer in hand, a one-dwarf blockade cutting off any retreat. The gap between me and the target shrank with every stride. I drew two knives, steel glinting faintly in the moonlight, and flung them in quick succession. The assassin''s sword flashed—smooth, precise—batting them aside like flies.


    I lunged, closing the distance. Celerius and Mors swept in twin arcs toward his head, black and white steel singing through the air. His blade met mine—steel clashed, sparks flared, illuminating his hood for a split second.We locked, strength against strength, breath hot and ragged. Then he moved.


    Fast. Too damn fast.


    He seized my wrist, twisting with brutal force. Pain lanced up my arm, sharp and white-hot. I drove my knee into his chest, hard enough to crack ribs, and he stumbled back, tumbling off the roof''s edge.


    He crashed onto the cobblestones below with a dull thud. Torglel was already there, closing in like a storm.


    "NOW!" I roared, voice raw.


    Torglel''s hammer arced down, a bronze blur aimed to shatter bone. The assassin rolled at the last heartbeat, the weapon smashing stone where he''d lain, chips flying. He sprang up as Torglel swung again, relentless, the hammer''s weight carving a vicious path through the air.


    Then the assassin countered—darting in, timing perfect. He slammed both hands onto the hammer''s flat as it passed, using its momentum to vault skyward. He flipped over Torglel, boots barely grazing the ground before he landed, fluid as water.


    I was already in motion, blades gleaming.As he hung midair, I struck—my sword sliced through his trajectory. The edge bit his arm, drawing a thin line of blood, but he twisted, denying me the kill.


    He landed in a crouch, unruffled. Without pause, a knife flicked from his hand, streaking for my throat.I parried with Mors, sparks spitting as steel kissed steel. His movements were liquid—smooth, precise, brimming with confidence. Like he was toying with us. Like this was a warm-up.


    He surged forward, a blur of black cloth and intent. A headbutt followed—skull crashing into skull. Pain exploded behind my eyes, a blinding white flare.Before I could recover, he flipped me over his shoulder. I hit the cobblestones hard, air punched from my lungs, the world tilting.


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    His sword stabbed down, a silver streak. I rolled, desperation fueling me, the blade whispering past my ear to bite stone.


    Torglel was back up, roaring as he charged. His hammer swung wide, a thunderous arc. The assassin ducked low, sweeping Torglel''s legs with a single, ruthless motion. Torglel crashed down, the street trembling under his weight. The assassin''s blade rose to end him—


    Too far. I couldn''t reach them. My heart slammed against my ribs.


    Then he froze. His hand flew to his neck, fingers brushing something small.


    Time crawled. He staggered, legs buckling. Then collapsed, a heap of black cloth on the stones.


    I rushed to Torglel, hauling him up. "You alright?"


    He groaned, rubbing his skull. "Physically." A wince. "Been a while since I got my arsati handed to me like that."


    I exhaled, relief cutting through the tension. "How''d we lose a two-on-one?"


    Torglel''s half-smile flickered. "Cause we thought we had him."


    I crouched beside the assassin, breath still ragged. He lay unconscious but alive, chest rising faintly. No fatal wounds. No blood beyond the graze on his arm. Then I saw it—a dart, thin as a needle, buried in his neck. Barely visible, its fletching a dull gray.


    I hadn''t fired it. Torglel sure as hell hadn''t.


    I stood slow, senses prickling. Someone else was here.


    Footsteps—soft, deliberate—echoed behind me. I spun, blades half-drawn, steel catching the faint torchlight.


    There she was. The silver-haired Falstarian from the market. Calm. Composed. Hands clasped behind her back like she''d been watching the whole damn show.


    "What''s in the dart?" I asked, voice low, suspicion sharpening every word.


    She met my stare, unflinching. "Sleeping agent. My own brew. "Her tone was cool, measured. "Should keep him out eight hours. Give or take." A beat. "Haven''t tested it under real strain."


    I narrowed my eyes. "Were you trailing me to try it out?"


    Her smirk was sharp. "If I was, you''d already be snoring."


    Couldn''t argue that.


    I pulled a teleportation rune from my pouch and tossed it to her. "Solari."


    "Alythiel," she replied, catching it with ease. "Best healer and alchemist in Volstruum Valley." Half a jest, half a boast. I believed both.


    I turned back to the assassin and yanked off his mask. My breath caught.


    Pointed ears. Dark skin. Red eyes that could''ve been my own staring back, dulled by unconsciousness.


    Torglel whistled low. "By Tharnak''s beard... he''s one of yours, Solari."


    I stared, a cold weight settling in my gut. Then I glanced at Alythiel. "Don''t lose that rune. We might need you again."


    I hefted the assassin over my shoulder, his weight solid but limp."Torglel. We''re heading back."


    The walk to the hideout was silent, our footsteps swallowed by the night. Inside the tunnels, the shadows pressed heavier, like they knew what we carried.


    Telegarani waited near the entrance, arms crossed, his silver hair glinting faintly in the torchlight. "Where''s Arcainius?" I asked, shifting the assassin''s bulk.


    "Training recruits," he said, voice clipped.


    "Send him to interrogation."


    By the time Arcainius arrived, we''d bound the assassin tight—ropes knotted around wrists, ankles, chest. Torglel tugged each one, double-checking with a grunt. "Good luck slipping that, bastard."


    Arcainius stepped in, his presence chilling the room. Tall, lean, with eyes like chipped ice and a jaw set hard. He studied the assassin, frowning.


    "He''s alive?"


    "Alive enough," I said, arms crossed.


    Torglel huffed."Looks like Solari''s twin. Downright eerie."


    I handed Arcainius the assassin''s mask, its dark fabric etched with faint, curling symbols. He turned it over, tracing the marks with a finger, his frown deepening. "These aren''t familiar. I''ll have Telegarani dig into it."


    He faced the assassin, voice dropping. "Let''s see what he''s hiding."


    Arcainius knelt, placing his hands on the assassin''s temples. A low chant rumbled from his throat—deep, guttural, words older than the mountains. The air thickened, pressing against my skin, heavy with unseen power. His fingers tightened, knuckles whitening. His eyes rolled back, whites stark against his face.


    Silence stretched, taut as a bowstring.


    Then—chaos. Arcainius flew back, hurled by an invisible force. He slammed into the wall, stone cracking under the impact, a groan escaping his lips. At the same instant, the assassin''s eyes snapped open. He screamed—a high, ear-splitting wail that clawed at my skull.


    Flames erupted from his core, bright and wild. They devoured him in seconds, flesh and bone melting to nothing. Ash drifted to the floor, a gray shroud where a man had been.


    I hauled Arcainius up, his weight unsteady. "What the hell was that?"


    He shook his head, dazed, a rare crack in his composure. "Magic deeper than we know. I couldn''t hold it." He rubbed his temples, wincing.


    I stared at the ashes, the faint heat still rising from them. A chill coiled in my spine. This wasn''t over. This was the spark of something bigger—something I couldn''t yet name.


    Torglel kicked at the dust, voice gruff. "So much for answers. What now?"


    I didn''t reply. My eyes stayed on the ash, the weight of those red eyes—my eyes—burning in my mind. Whoever he was, whatever he''d been, he''d taken his secrets with him. But not all of them. Not if I had anything to say about it.