Page 18

ERYX

I linger on the rooftop of a half-collapsed foundry, breath caught in my throat as I survey Orthani’s tangled streets below.

The night air clings to me with a chilly dampness.

A single arcane lantern flickers on a rusted pole, casting elongated shadows across the battered cobblestones.

From this height, it’s easy to see where the city’s grandeur fades into the sprawl of Lowtown: crooked lanes crammed with rickety hovels pressed against fortifications of black stone.

Years ago, I strode these streets as a noble, proud and unchallenged.

Now I pick my way through them like a ghost, hidden in darkness, unrecognizable.

My gaze tracks a pair of dark elf soldiers on patrol near the foundry.

Their cloaks ripple in the breeze, and the insignia on their uniforms—a coiled serpent around an obsidian dagger—marks them as Orthani’s standard enforcers.

I’ve spent enough time weaving in and out of these watch routes to know their patterns by heart.

With a careful step, I glide to the edge of the rooftop, flatten against the cracked chimney, and wait for them to pass.

Their hushed conversation drifts upward.

They’re complaining about some shift extension, cursing the “damned purna problem.” My gut twists.

Purna problem, indeed. Another reminder of Orthani’s new captive, a woman who apparently roused enough alarm that the entire guard force is on edge.

From the scraps of rumors I’ve gleaned, she was caught in Lowtown with a child, fighting like a cornered wolf.

The story sets my blood simmering because I recognize the name whispered in dark corners: Selene.

The one I was meant to assist. The same woman the Red Purna manipulated to test Orthani’s strength.

I close my eyes a moment, recalling the instructions I received from a Red Purna contact—a coded dispatch delivered by a hooded messenger.

“Selene is in Orthani,” it said, “our sister is cunning, but she needs your help to escape.” A bitter laugh nearly escapes me.

Help is a flimsy word when I suspect she was pushed into this mess on purpose.

The Red Purna might pay me in gold and grudging respect, but I’m well aware they’d watch the city burn if it served their aims.

My focus snaps back to the patrol below when the soldiers move on.

They vanish around a corner, still muttering about purna.

I inch away from the chimney, stepping over crumbled roof tiles to reach an adjoining building.

A single leap takes me across the narrow gap.

I land on the next rooftop in a crouch, exhaling slowly.

Each step I take is measured, silent. My cloak is dyed midnight blue, blending with the gloom.

My hair, once a mark of noble whiteness, is chopped to my shoulders.

Time and dirt have dulled it so thoroughly that it no longer shines like it once did when I strolled Orthani’s upper courts.

The memory of those gilded halls is as sharp as a blade.

My father, resplendent in embroidered robes, sipping spiced wine.

My mother, teaching me the politics of the city—where to bow, whom to flatter.

Then the day our house was declared treacherous.

Soldiers burst into our estate, swords drawn, cutting down my parents where they stood.

Their blood stained the marble floors, and I, forced to watch from behind a tapestry, realized the cunning tyranny of Orthani’s ruling class.

Ever since that night, hatred has fueled me.

That vengeance carried me into the arms of the Red Purna, who claimed they wanted to dismantle Orthani’s power.

So far, I’ve served them well, using my assassin’s skills to disrupt the city’s infrastructure, sabotage supply lines.

But I sense they, too, are weaving manipulations for their own ends.

They told me Selene was an asset, a strong purna who might tip the balance.

So I came, slinking back into the city I once called home, trying to track her.

The rumor that she’s been captured sets my heart thrumming with complicated fury.

Tonight, I plan to confirm the rumors. If Selene is indeed locked somewhere in Orthani’s fortress, I need to see whether she’s still breathing, worth rescuing.

And if she’s a bargaining chip, I might exploit that.

My hatred for Orthani’s nobles runs deep, and I want to see them kneel.

If Selene can help me accomplish that, all the better.

I creep to a vantage point near a spire that overlooks a courtyard guarded by heavy gates.

That gate leads to the fortress’s mid-levels, where officers dwell.

Lanterns burn with a pale violet flame along the battlements, and watchful eyes scan the perimeter.

My instincts prickle. The security has tightened significantly.

More wards sizzle in the air, distorting magic and making it harder to cloak myself in silent approach.

This means they fear infiltration. Possibly because they hold a valuable prisoner. Possibly her.

Beneath the archways, I notice a single figure patrolling: a tall female officer with silver braids coiled around her head.

She paces with a restlessness that suggests shift changes are overdue.

I wait until she turns her back, then slip down the spire’s exterior using a rope ladder I hid last week.

My feet touch the cobbles silently. My heartbeat kicks.

One misstep, and I’ll have an entire squad on my trail.

The officer continues pacing. I flatten against a sculpted column shaped like a twisted serpent, pressing my cloak against the stone.

My breath comes shallow as I edge around the corner, approaching the fortress’s side door.

A single guard stands there, leaning on his halberd.

He’s half-asleep, by the look of his drooping posture.

The wards might detect overt magic usage, but subtlety is my friend.

I reach into a small pouch at my belt, extracting a pinch of crushed seeds that the Red Purna’s herbalist gave me.

They cause drowsiness if inhaled. Slowly, I creep up, toss the fine powder so it drifts into the guard’s face.

He startles, sniffs, then slumps as the powder overtakes him.

I catch him before he collapses, dragging him behind the column.

With careful precision, I slip his ring of keys from his belt and ease open the side door.

Inside, the corridor is dim, lit by a single sconce.

My footfalls are muffled by thick carpets.

I keep to the walls, every sense attuned to the wards that hum in my peripheral awareness.

I follow the path my memory conjures. Once upon a time, I had access to these corridors, walked them in fine clothes.

It’s changed somewhat, new expansions or modifications, but the bones of Orthani’s fortress remain.

When I pass a broad archway, I duck behind a statue of a grim-faced dark elf general.

Two guards stroll by, chatting about the purna’s demonstration in the training arena earlier. My heart leaps.

“Did you see it?” one says. “She beat three soldiers like it was nothing. Commander Vaelith seemed pleased.”

The other chuckles. “You think they’ll keep her around for good? Purna magic or not, she’s dangerous.”

They vanish down another hall. My pulse hammers.

That must have been Selene. So she’s proving her worth in forced trials.

It’s typical of Orthani to put a captive to the test, deciding whether to use or discard them.

The news that she triumphed so boldly sparks a grudging admiration.

The Red Purna’s rumors about her skill aren’t exaggerated.

I continue deeper, guided by torchlit passages.

My aim is to find a vantage point to confirm her location or glean more details from unsuspecting lips.

The fortress’s architecture grows more lavish: pillars etched with swirling patterns, doors adorned with carved serpents, floors inlaid with obsidian tiles.

Occasionally, I slip into a recessed alcove to avoid roving guards.

My efforts pay off when I catch sight of a slender dark elf scribe stepping out of a side office.

He clutches a stack of parchment, scanning them anxiously.

I wait until he’s alone in a lesser-traveled hall, then sidle up behind him, pressing a dagger lightly to the curve of his back. “Quiet,” I hiss. “Not a peep.”

He stiffens, nearly dropping his papers. “W-what?—?”

I ease the blade closer. “You’re going to give me answers. The captive purna—Selene. Where is she being held?”

His voice quakes. “I d-don’t know exactly. She’s in the officer wing, under Commander Vaelith’s watch. We only have notes that she was seen training and then escorted to a private chamber. Fourth level, west corridor.”

I exhale, triumphant. “How many guards does she have?”

He swallows audibly. “Likely two posted at her door, plus the wards restricting her movement. She’s wearing a bracelet that monitors her location. Please, that’s all I know.”

I consider pushing for more, but time runs short. Another patrol might appear at any moment. “Where’s the child they captured with her?”

The scribe pales. “The child is in the lower wards, from what I’ve heard. Possibly in a specialized cell. She has unusual surges of magic. That’s all I’ve seen in the logs.”

My blade stays at his back, but tension roils in me.

So Ai is locked away, her powers flaring.

That lines up with the Red Purna’s plan—she’s a volatile piece on the board.

“Thank you,” I whisper. A swift strike with the hilt knocks him unconscious, quiet and efficient.

I ease him down, then tuck him behind a suit of ceremonial armor where he won’t be found immediately.