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She squinted at his expression, as well as his tone. She wasn’t particularly fond of jealousy, especially when it came to guild activities. “I’m following my orders, as you should. The reason doesn’t matter.”

“Exactly,” the Elder bit out, his voice cold and unfeeling. “What Wren wants is her business, and as the Head of the eastern sector, her wants are final. Any arguments regarding it will be noted for future reference.” Then, with a hint of humour crinkling the corners of his eyes, he added, “That’s if you don’t die this night.”

A knot of muscle ticked in Bryce’s jaw, his lips firming into a hard line. However, he nodded and stepped back.

Emerie stopped him from retreating by clasping his wrist, ignoring the rush of people moving around them. Despite the negative energy of their night so far, she held his eyes with sincerity.

“Don’t get killed, okay?” she quietly pleaded. “Stay safe.”

His annoyance deflated out of him, and his gaze softened. “Of course, Em. Don’t worry about me. I promise I’ll be okay.”

There was no kiss, hug, or further affection shared between them as they split up – not that they would have done something so public. Their relationship was a secret, by his request, mainly.

Bryce made his way out of the armoury to head to his station, while Emerie climbed a spiralling staircase that led to a higher section of the fortress. The Elder didn’t follow her, likely picking out other guildmembers among the crowd that Wren had given additional orders to.

Zagros Fortress was the Demonslayer stronghold of the eastern part of Austrális. Both the east and the west had the largest area of the Veil cutting through their land, making them far more dangerous than the north or south lands.

From its topmost tower, anyone could see the burnt ruins ofRivenspire. It’d long been destroyed by Demons and panicked people creating fires.

To the south, they traded with the farmlands for food by offering additional protection. The same offer of protection had been given to the mining town who shared their mountain, although much further north.

East was nothing but treacherous sea.

Zagros Fortress was cold, foreboding, and loomed over the lands below. The fortress itself had been carved into the very stone of the mountain, and what stone had been taken from it built the rest.

It was composed of six towers.

Two for the lower areas right where the wall touched the base of the mountain.

The middle two were watch towers for the north and south, situated at its furthest lengths and jutting from the mountain’s body. They also sheltered the centre of the fortress – which housed their living and training areas – from the northerly cool winds.

The topmost two towers allowed them to see the east and west simultaneously. The areas between them housed the library, the records chamber, and then a higher section that only a certain few were permitted to enter.

First, she had to go deeper inside the mass of the mountain before she would be closer to the summit, where Wren was likely situated on her viewing and planning platform.

Pushing down on the pommel of her sword to stop the tip from smacking against the stairs, she began the long and gruelling climb. Sweat trickled down her back, causing her black Demonslayer uniform to cling to her heated skin, but she never slowed or wiped her brow.

It still amazes me that Wren climbs these daily.No wonder their Head Elder was so damn fit.

Her own lungs were moments from seizing, and her side already burned with a stitch.

As she reached the last steps, her tired and wobbling knees threatened to give out, but she used the last of her energy in a burst to the top of them.

She was greeted by two Master rank guildmembers. The blue insignia pressed into the upper chest of their uniform in the centre of their sternum matched her own. A circle that tapered off at the end before it could finish completing, with a sword stabbing all the way through.

It was impossible to tell who was who, since their uniforms matched so completely with their face coverings and hoods. She couldn’t even assume the eyes of the person staring back at her belonged to who she thought. Everyone had to be treated the same for their station.

It gave their positions autonomy.

Emerie hadn’t put her own hood up yet, as that was something they usually did only when at their stations. Emerie only had to take orders from any of those who had a silver emblem – an Elder.

But all had to obey the command of their medallion wearer.

Both Master rank guildmembers standing guard nodded. They stepped to the side, allowing her freedom to enter. Emerie rapped the back of her knuckles against the door.

“Head Elder, you called fo–”

“Enter, Emerie.” The weight of Wren’s voice boomed past the thick, distressed timber of the door.