Thorne’s eyes snapped open, his senses screaming danger before his conscious mind caught up. The darkness of the attic pressed in around him, broken only by the faint light creeping through the window’s edges.

  His ears picked up the sounds first, distant and horrible.

  Swords clashing. Heavy impacts. Wood splintering.

  And then, unmistakably, screams.

  He bolted upright, his breath shallow as adrenaline surged through him.

  Beside him, Selene stirred, groaning softly. “Thorne?” she murmured, her voice thick with exhaustion and sleep.

  He didn’t answer. Three quick strides brought him to the small round window. He unlatched it and pushed it open, his head snapping outside.

  The city lay before him, bathed in chaos. Half the sky over Alvar was choked with smoke, the northern part of the city already aflame. The acrid stench filled his nose, stinging his throat and eyes. The bells, faintly heard earlier, were now a mournful chorus, punctuated by the din of battle.

  Thorne tilted his head slightly, focusing his sharp hearing. The clash of steel and the shouts of soldiers were closer than he had thought, echoing now from the edge of the Grey District.

  The slums wouldn’t be safe for long.

  “What’s wrong?” Selene’s voice broke through the haze of his thoughts. She sat up slowly, rubbing her puffy eyes and looking at him with a mix of concern and confusion.

  Thorne turned back to her, his gaze flicking over her disheveled appearance, red-rimmed eyes, tangled golden hair. For a moment, he hesitated. She hadn’t picked up the sounds of the approaching chaos yet; her regular hearing wasn’t attuned like his.

  She doesn’t know, he thought grimly.

  “Get up,” he said, his voice clipped. He turned and began moving around the room, searching for anything useful.

  Selene blinked, her confusion deepening. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice rough with sleep.

  Thorne kept his back to her, pulling at a loose floorboard near the corner of the room. “We have to leave. Some kind of battle’s broken out in the city. It’s heading this way.”

  “What?” she said, sitting up straighter.

  “I can hear them,” Thorne said shortly, retrieving a pair of health potions from his stash beneath the floor. “Soldiers. Marching through the Grey District. We need to get out of here.”

  He turned back toward her, shoving one of the potions into his belt. Selene’s eyes widened as his words sank in, her confusion giving way to alarm.

  “Thorne, what are you talking about?” she asked, her voice rising slightly. “You’re scaring me.”

  “I don’t have time to explain,” Thorne said, his tone still sharp. He crossed to another hiding spot near the wall, pulling out a small dagger and a dusty cloak. “We need to get you somewhere safe.”

  But before he could say anything else, Selene let out an angry, frustrated noise, throwing the blanket off her and standing. “That moron!” she exclaimed, her voice shaking with rage. “He did it! He actually did it!”

  Thorne froze, the dagger halfway to his belt. “What are you talking about?”

  “Alaric!” Selene said, pacing now, her hands clutching at her hair. “He went against Father’s wishes! We haven’t even finished mourning, and he’s already making plans to take the city!”

  Thorne frowned, her words cutting through the rising panic in his chest. “You mean...”

  She stopped pacing, turning to face him with a look of bitter resignation. “My brother held council yesterday at the family seat,” she said, her voice heavy. “He summoned our family members and our allied houses. He’s going to make a bid for the city.”

  Thorne cursed under his breath, shoving the dagger into his belt.

  “My father was the only one who could restrain him,” Selene continued, her voice breaking. She swallowed hard, her eyes misting. “But now... now that he’s gone, there’s no one to stop him.”

  “Damn it,” Thorne hissed, pacing now himself. I knew this would happen. He thought to himself. I knew killing Ravencourt was a mistake. And now the entire city is going to pay for it.

  Selene flinched at the venom in his voice, but before either of them could say anything more, the sounds of battle outside grew louder. The shouts of soldiers, the clash of steel, and the roar of something heavy collapsing reached even Selene’s ears.

  She turned toward the window, her expression shifting to one of fear. “The city’s burning,” she whispered, her voice almost too soft to hear.

  Thorne forced himself to focus. “We need to move,” he said firmly. “Your family’s estate will be safe. It’s fortified, and your brother’s forces will be there.”

  Selene opened her mouth to argue, but Thorne raised a hand, cutting her off.

  “Here, we’re sitting ducks,” he said sharply. “Your home is the only safe place in the city right now. We’re going there, and that’s final.”

  She stared at him for a moment, her lips pressed into a thin line. Then, reluctantly, she nodded.

  Thorne turned back to his stashes, pulling out more supplies. Beneath a loose brick, he found two more daggers and a thin cloak and a small wrist-mounted crossbow with a worn leather belt and a few remaining bolts. His fingers brushed against some coins, but he left them untouched.

  “Thorne?” Selene said hesitantly, watching him from the edge of the bed. Her voice was softer now, almost pleading. “What’s happening?”

  He didn’t answer immediately, instead crossing to her with the cloak in his hands. He draped it over her shoulders, raising the hood and carefully tucking a loose strand of golden hair behind her ear.

  “This,” he said softly, pressing a dagger into her hand, “is for close quarters. Use it only if you have no other choice.”

  Selene looked down at the blade in her hand, her expression bewildered. “Thorne, I don’t...”

  He interrupted her, tying the crossbow’s belt around her wrist. “And this is fast and effective,” he said, his voice calm and steady despite the urgency building in his chest. “Push your middle finger into the lever here, and the bolt will fire.”

  Selene stared at the weapon as though it might burn her. “I’ve never... what if I can’t...”

  Thorne took her free hand, squeezing it tightly. “You can,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “And I’ll make sure you won’t have to.”

  For a moment, they stood in silence, her wide eyes searching his. Then she nodded, the faintest spark of resolve flickering in her gaze.

  Thorne released her hand and stepped toward the door, glancing back over his shoulder. “We need to go. Now.”

  Thorne led Selene down the narrow staircase from the attic, his ears straining for any sign that the battle had already reached the Grey District. Every creak of the old wooden steps sounded deafening, and he kept a firm grip on Selene’s arm to steady her as she descended.

  At the base of the stairs, he paused, motioning for her to stay back. His Veil Sense extended outward like a ripple, brushing against the cores of people nearby. There were several, dockworkers and merchants mostly, clustered in tight groups, their fear palpable even through the veil. None seemed hostile.

  But fear wasn’t enough to make them safe. Fear often made people dangerous.

  Thorne stepped out first, keeping Selene close behind him. The small street outside was cramped, flanked by sagging buildings and overfilled carts hastily abandoned by merchants. Smoke drifted lazily here, a pale shadow of the inferno raging in the north, but it carried with it the acrid promise of destruction.

  “What now?” Selene whispered, her voice trembling.

  “We keep moving,” Thorne said softly, his voice firm and steady. “Stay close. Stay quiet.”

  They pressed on, weaving through narrow alleyways and backstreets. Thorne kept to the shadows, his movements swift and precise. Every few steps, his Veil Sense flared outward, ensuring no one was waiting to ambush them.

  The sounds of battle grew louder as they moved north toward the noble quarter. Distant shouts carried through the streets, mingled with the dull roar of flames and the occasional, stomach-churning scream. Selene clung to him, her breath quick and shallow.

  The first real danger came as they turned onto a wider street.

  Thorne held up a hand, halting Selene mid-step. At the far end of the road, five armored figures stood clustered near a shop, their laughter carrying faintly through the smoke-laden air. Ravencourt soldiers, their black cloaks unmistakable.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  Two of them stood watch, their heads swiveling as they scanned the street, while the others rummaged through the shattered storefront, tossing crates and sacks into a growing pile. One kicked a crate open, spilling its contents onto the ground.

  Thorne turned to Selene and pushed her gently into a recessed alcove. He crouched down to her eye level, his finger pressed to his lips. “Stay here,” he whispered.

  “Thorne, there are five of them...”

  He didn’t wait for her to finish.

  The world seemed to shift as Thorne activated Veil of Light and Shadow, his body dissolving into the faintest shimmer of distorted air thanks to his evolved stealth skill. To any onlooker, he was little more than a trick of the light, blending seamlessly into the smoke and flickering glow from the distant fires.

  He moved like a ghost, closing the distance between him and the first soldier in mere seconds. Burst of Speed kicked in, propelling him forward with a silent surge of momentum.

  The soldier didn’t even see him.

  Thorne’s arm snaked around the man’s neck, and with a sharp twist, a sickening crack echoed through the street. The body crumpled soundlessly to the ground.

  The second soldier’s head snapped up at the faint noise. “What was that...” he began, but Thorne’s dagger flashed upward, slicing cleanly across his throat in a perfect Stealth Strike. The man staggered, clutching his neck, before collapsing into a heap.

  The remaining three soldiers turned, their laughter dying as they spotted their fallen comrades.

  “Hey! Intruder!” one of them shouted, drawing his sword.

  Thorne dropped the veil of distortion as his body reappeared in the flickering light.

  The man who shouted barely had time to register the glowing intensity of Thorne’s eyes before he lunged, Burst of Speed carrying him forward faster than any normal human could react. Thorne ducked under the man’s wild swing, his dagger plunging into the gap between the soldier’s breastplate and ribs. He twisted the blade sharply, feeling the soldier’s body jerk as he fell, choking on his own blood.

  The fourth soldier roared and rushed him, swinging his weapon in a reckless arc. Thorne sidestepped easily, his movements fluid and controlled. With brutal precision, he drove his dagger straight into the man’s heart. The soldier gasped, his strength fading instantly as he crumpled.

  The final soldier froze, his wide eyes darting between Thorne and the bodies of his comrades. He hesitated, gripping his sword tightly, his breathing ragged.

  Thorne tilted his head slightly, his glowing eyes narrowing. “Don’t,” he said, his voice low and edged with warning.

  The soldier’s fear gave way to desperation. With a cry, he lunged.

  Thorne caught the man’s wrist with ease, twisting it sharply. The sword clattered to the ground, and Thorne drove his dagger upward, the blade piercing the soldier’s jaw and driving deep into the base of his skull. The soldier gurgled once before slumping lifelessly to the ground.

  For a moment, the street was silent again, save for the faint crackling of distant fires. Thorne stood over the bodies, his dagger slick with blood, his chest rising and falling steadily.

  Then the notification came, sharp and clear in his mind:

  Skill Level Up: Vengeful Blades (Daggers)!

  The rush of accomplishment barely registered as Thorne turned back toward Selene.

  Her wide eyes were locked on him, her expression frozen in shock. There was something new in her gaze, an edge of fear, of awe, as if she were seeing him for the first time.

  “How?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

  Thorne didn’t answer. He sheathed his dagger in one fluid motion, his voice steady but firm. “Keep going.”

  She hesitated for a moment, clutching the cloak tighter around her shoulders, before nodding. Thorne stepped past her, leading them onward into the chaos.

  The closer they got to the noble quarter, the worse the chaos became.

  The streets were clogged with people, civilians fleeing south, their belongings piled high on carts and strapped to their backs. City guards moved among them, trying to direct the flow of people while shouting orders to their scattered units.

  From above, plumes of smoke rose into the sky, and the distant clash of swords echoed through the air. The Thornfield estate loomed ahead, its silhouette stark against the orange glow of the northern fires.

  But Thorne’s focus wasn’t on the estate.

  His Veil Sense brushed against something unusual, a cluster of cores, tightly packed and moving with precision. His stomach sank. Ravencourt forces were already here, pushing toward the heart of Thornfield power.

  He grabbed Selene’s arm, pulling her toward a side street. “We’re going around,” he said shortly.

  She didn’t argue, her eyes darting nervously as they hurried through the narrow alley. The sounds of fighting grew louder, closer, until they reached the edge of a small square.

  Thorne stopped abruptly, pulling Selene back into the shadows.

  The square was a battlefield.

  Thornfield soldiers clashed with Ravencourt forces in the center, their blades ringing out as they fought for control of the quarter. Bodies littered the ground, and the cobblestones were slick with blood.

  Selene let out a soft, horrified gasp, and Thorne tightened his grip on her arm.

  “This way,” he whispered, leading her toward a crumbling wall that would take them around the square.

  As they moved, a thought struck him. The Thornfield soldiers here were heavily outnumbered, their lines barely holding.

  This isn’t just a battle, Thorne realized. This is a slaughter.

  Thorne and Selene pressed themselves against the jagged edge of a crumbling wall, his Veil Sense brushing against the chaotic storm of cores clashing in the open space. Thornfield soldiers fought valiantly, but they were outnumbered, their defensive line crumbling under the relentless onslaught of Ravencourt forces.

  Shouts and screams rang out, mingling with the clash of steel and the crackle of distant fires. Blood slicked the cobblestones, pooling around the fallen, and the acrid stench of smoke and death hung thick in the air.

  Thorne’s glowing eyes darted across the scene, calculating the safest route. Every instinct screamed at him to avoid the fray, but Selene’s estate lay just beyond this chaos. They had no other choice.

  “Stay close,” he muttered, his voice low and tense.

  Selene nodded, her face pale but determined.

  Thorne led her forward, their steps quick and careful as they weaved through the battlefield. They stuck to the edges, skirting the worst of the fighting, but the line between chaos and safety was razor-thin.

  A Thornfield soldier screamed as a Ravencourt blade pierced his chest, falling mere feet from where they crouched. The soldier’s killer, a man with dark, blood-splattered armor, whirled toward them, his eyes narrowing as he raised his weapon.

  Thorne didn’t hesitate. Aether surged through his veins as he moved in a blur, his dagger plunging into the soldier’s throat before he could call for reinforcements.

  “Keep going,” Thorne hissed, his hand tightening around Selene’s wrist as he pulled her forward.

  They crossed the square in short bursts, using debris and fallen wagons as cover. Thorne’s Veil Sense flared constantly, mapping the chaotic movements around them.

  Selene stumbled on a loose stone, but Thorne caught her arm before she fell, pulling her upright. She opened her mouth to apologize, but a familiar voice cut through the din.

  “Thorne!”

  He froze, his head snapping toward the sound.

  An older recruit from the Lost Ones, Darren, stood amidst the carnage, his twin blades gleaming with aetheric light as he cut down three Ravencourt soldiers in a single, fluid motion. Darren’s movements were brutal and precise, his blades finding gaps in armor with terrifying ease.

  He turned toward Thorne, his scarred face split in a feral grin.

  “You shouldn’t be here!” Darren barked, slashing through another soldier who charged him. “It’s dangerous!”

  Thorne gave him a sharp nod, dragging Selene with him as he surged forward.

  More soldiers blocked their path, five of them, Ravencourt banners stitched into their black cloaks. They raised their weapons, spotting Thorne and Selene as they sprinted toward the estate.

  Thorne’s grip on Selene tightened. “Hold on,” he said grimly.

  Aether roared to life within him, a surge of raw power that crackled through his body like lightning. His glowing eyes flared brighter as he launched himself forward, his movements a blur of speed and lethality.

  The first soldier fell before he could even swing, Thorne’s dagger slicing across his throat in a blinding arc. He spun, his blade catching the next soldier in the side, the force of the strike sending the man sprawling.

  Selene cried out as Thorne yanked her forward, dragging her through the chaos. His movements were relentless, cutting down anyone who dared to block their path. A final surge of aether propelled him forward, his blade flashing with the Silverlight Strike ability one last time as the last soldier crumpled to the ground.

  They slipped into the hidden alley by the estate, the familiar narrow passageway bringing a fleeting sense of relief.

  But it was short-lived.

  Three more Ravencourt soldiers stood at the far end, their weapons raised as they advanced. These weren’t looters or inexperienced recruits, they moved with discipline, their eyes sharp and focused.

  Thorne stepped in front of Selene, his dagger still dripping with blood. His grip tightened on the hilt as he prepared to strike.

  “Stay back,” he ordered Selene, his voice low and firm.

  The soldiers began to close the distance, their movements slow and deliberate.

  Thorne shifted his stance, his body coiling like a spring. He was about to launch forward when Selene’s hand closed around his wrist.

  “Wait,” she said softly.

  Her touch stilled him, and he turned his head to look at her, his glowing eyes narrowing in confusion.

  Selene stepped forward, pulling back her hood. Her golden hair spilled free, glinting faintly in the dim light.

  The soldiers froze, their eyes widening in recognition.

  “Lady Selene?” one of them asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

  Selene’s gaze was steady, her voice calm despite the tension in the air. “Yes,” she said. “It’s me.”

  The soldiers exchanged uncertain glances, their weapons lowering slightly.

  “We didn’t know...” one of them began, but Selene cut him off.

  “I’m going inside,” she said firmly, gesturing toward the estate’s hidden door. “Stand down.”

  The soldiers hesitated, their grips on their weapons loosening.

  Thorne’s dagger remained raised, his eyes flicking between Selene and the soldiers. When the soldiers finally stepped aside, he sheathed his blade reluctantly.

  Selene turned to Thorne, her face pale but calm, though her red-rimmed eyes betrayed the weight of her emotions.

  “You’re coming in too, right?” she asked softly, her voice trembling with a faint thread of hope.

  Thorne shook his head, stepping back toward the door. “I can’t. I have to go.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Go? To where?”

  Thorne opened his mouth, but the words faltered. “I have to...” His voice trailed off as he pulled his hood back up, shadowing his glowing eyes. He didn’t know what to tell her. He didn’t know what lie would suffice, what half-truth he could give to shield her from the reality of what he had to do.

  “You’ll risk your life?” she interrupted, her tone sharper now, tinged with frustration.

  He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll be fine,” he said, the words automatic. “You’ve seen me. You know I can handle myself.”

  “That’s not the point!” Selene snapped, taking a step closer. Her hands clutched the edges of his cloak, holding him in place.

  “You’ll die out there...” she whispered, her voice hoarse. The strength in her earlier words cracked, leaving something raw and vulnerable in their place.

  Thorne’s hand lifted instinctively, brushing a strand of golden hair from her face. For a moment, he let himself linger, his fingers lightly tracing her cheek as her wide, tear-filled eyes searched his.

  “I’ll be fine,” he murmured again, softer this time. “I’ll come see you once it’s safe.”

  He gently pried her hands from his cloak, gripping them briefly as if to anchor them both. Then, with a quiet breath, he released her, stepping back.

  Selene’s lips parted, as if she wanted to say more, but no words came.

  Thorne gave her one last look, his glowing eyes flickering with something unreadable, before he turned and vanished into the shadows.

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