The merchant yard crackled with tension as Kael stepped forward, his staff humming with a pulse only he could hear. The Whisperblade assassin stood just ten paces away, unmoving, unreadable behind his sleek black mask. But Kael didn't need eyes to sense danger—he could taste it in the air. It was coppery and cold.
"I'll ask once," Kael said, calm as still water. "Step aside."
The assassin tilted his head slowly, mock curiosity in the motion. "You think I came alone?" His voice was smooth, almost bemused.
That was when Kael felt it—the wind shift. From above.
"Scatter!" he barked.
The others barely reacted in time. Shadows dropped from the rooftops like living ink. Silent. Deadly. Doran rolled across crates, already throwing blades. Arinya summoned a burst of light, just in time to deflect a blade aimed for her throat. The assassin's reinforcements had arrived. And they were good.
Kael swept his staff in a broad arc, catching the legs of a masked figure mid-dash. The man flipped violently and landed with a crunch. The staff vibrated in Kael's grip—his link with the relic growing stronger with each battle.
But something was wrong.
They were being herded. Flanked. These weren't just thugs—they were executing a planned pincer.
"They knew we'd be here," Kael muttered, striking down another attacker. "They were waiting."
Doran grunted, blocking a strike with his bracer and shoving a dagger into an attacker's ribs. "You're just figuring that out?"
A bolt of dark energy scorched the cobblestone near Arinya's foot. She staggered, then twisted, conjuring a glowing ward that shattered the next incoming spell.
"Kael—this is a trap!" she shouted.
"I noticed!"
He leapt onto a cart, swinging his staff like a windmill and blasting back two shadows with a concussive wave. The staff seemed almost alive now, its energy syncing with Kael's heartbeat.
"I thought Whisper secured the route," Doran yelled, blade spinning. "So much for contacts in the underground!"
Kael gritted his teeth. "Whisper didn't betray us."
"Then someone else did," Doran said grimly.
Kael paused. He didn't want to think it. Not yet. But in the middle of the chaos, his mind flickered—just for a moment—to Arinya.
The Whisperblade moved in again—fast, almost too fast. Kael parried, the clash of metal against the staff vibrating through his bones. The assassin ducked, swept, then disappeared in a flurry of steps. Kael followed with blind instinct, his feet flowing in rhythm, relying on every other sense. Each footfall was a pulse in the ground, feeding him information through the staff like sonar.
He moved with a dancer's grace, blocking a fatal strike just in time.
But the assassin's blade bit into his side—shallow, but hot with pain.
"Kael!" Arinya cried, her voice laced with panic.
She raised her hand to cast, and then—paused.
Just for a breath.
Why?
Kael's body moved on reflex. He twisted away, dropped low, then jabbed his staff backward with brutal force. The tip hit something soft. A grunt. The Whisperblade stumbled.
Kael didn't wait. He surged forward, landing a blow to the assassin's shoulder, then to the side of his knee. The man collapsed with a hiss, vanishing into the shadows a second later, retreating.
But Kael didn't chase. He turned to Arinya instead.
"You hesitated."
"I—" Her voice caught.
He didn't press it.
Not yet.
Another wave of attackers closed in—less precise now, more desperate. Doran was already bleeding from a shallow cut across his arm but still held his ground. Together, the three of them fought back to the courtyard gate, step by step. Horses screamed and carts overturned. The merchant guards were either dead or fled.
When Kael finally slammed the gate shut with a wave of force, he collapsed behind it, gasping for breath. Blood soaked his tunic. The staff lay across his lap like a quiet sentinel.
Arinya rushed to him, pressing her hands to his side as healing light shimmered around her fingertips. "Stay with me," she whispered.
Kael winced. "Didn't plan on dying tonight."
"You came close."
Doran paced nearby, watching the road they came from, eyes sharp. "One of them was pulling the bodies," he said after a moment.
Kael opened one eye. "What?"
"The Whisperblade—they didn't leave him. He was dragged away. Clean. Fast. I saw the sigil."
Arinya looked up sharply. "What sigil?"
Doran hesitated. "Verdant Court."
Arinya froze.
Kael's eyes narrowed. His grip tightened on the staff.
Then came silence.
Just the wind moving through the broken yard, rustling the torn canvas of merchant stalls. Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled.
The three of them didn't speak for a long time.
But Kael knew now.
This wasn't just a hit.
It was a message.
And Arinya—who stood so close, whose hand still trembled slightly on his wound—was tied to something deeper.