Page 20

As I descend the winding stair to the lower levels, I replay Selene’s words.

The Red Purna’s betrayal is confirmed. Ai’s captivity is dire.

And Vaelith or Zareth might close the net any day.

I must act swiftly. The Red Purna never told me about Ai specifically, only that Selene’s presence was pivotal.

They likely suspect that child’s power could ignite a war.

If they get what they want, Orthani’s streets will run with blood while they posture as saviors.

I have no illusions about their morality, but my thirst for Orthani’s collapse remains.

If saving Ai can strike a blow at Orthani’s heart—and if it means forging a reluctant alliance with Selene—so be it.

I slip outside through the same side door I entered.

The guard is still slumped behind the column, snoring softly.

I ease the ring of keys back onto his belt, figuring no reason to arouse extra suspicion by stealing them.

Then I make for the rope ladder near the foundry, scale up to the rooftop once more.

The city sprawls under a pale moon, a labyrinth of sinuous streets and menacing towers.

Over by the fortress ramparts, the candelabrum fiasco has drawn a cluster of soldiers, flames now extinguished but chaos lingering.

Reaching the rooftop, I crouch behind the crumbling chimney again, letting my pulse settle.

My mind drifts to that flashback of my family’s last moments: my father’s frantic shout, my mother’s cry, the clang of steel in the hall.

It still tastes like bile on my tongue. Orthani took everything from me.

The Red Purna claims to share my desire for revenge, but they used Selene as bait.

How many more will they feed to these walls to stoke conflict?

I watch the fortress, considering my next move.

Locating an override for that runic bracelet might be tricky.

I recall an archivist—once a lowborn scholar in the city’s library of magical scripts—who might still harbor grudges against the nobility.

Possibly I can bribe or blackmail them to get the runic key needed.

Then it’s a matter of timing. We can’t free Selene or Ai unless we’re certain we can slip them past the wards.

A breath of night wind stirs, carrying the faint stench of the canal.

My cloak ripples around me. Through a gap in the rooftops, I see the faint glow of the training arena where Selene apparently bested multiple soldiers.

The image of her brandishing a sword with lethal grace sets my blood pulsing.

That flash of hidden heat between us—it’s new.

I haven’t let myself feel anything but cold vengeance for so long.

Yet her defiance, her raw aura, pierces me.

Perhaps we’re two ghosts drifting in the aftermath of betrayal, united by the city that wronged us.

I tighten my fingers around the hilt of my dagger, forging that stray emotion into a focused edge.

No time for indulgent thoughts. I can’t trust her fully yet, and she certainly doesn’t trust me.

But if we can form a partnership, it might dismantle Orthani from inside.

My path is set: gather the resources needed, sabotage Orthani at every turn, and keep Selene informed when possible.

The Red Purna will see me as a loyal agent, never suspecting that I might have my own agenda, or that I care about protecting that child.

If the Red Purna plans to exploit Ai’s power, I’ll cut them down too.

The only cause I serve is my own thirst for Orthani’s downfall—and maybe, just maybe, a shred of decency for those caught in the crossfire.

Resolved, I begin my descent from the rooftop, climbing down the precarious stone ledges until I land in a narrow alley.

The reek of rotting trash hits my nostrils.

I slip among the twisted backstreets, ducking under water-stained arches and stepping over broken crates.

For a moment, I recall how these alleys used to be patrolled by servants wearing my father’s crest. So much has changed.

My father is ash in an unmarked pit, my mother’s embroidered robes burned as evidence of alleged treason.

All that remains is me, a specter out for retribution.

I pick my way to a decrepit building I’ve claimed as a safehouse: three stories of leaning timber and crumbling bricks, deserted after some quake weakened its foundations.

The interior is dank, stinking of mold, but it offers vantage points to watch the fortress’s southwestern flank.

I head up the rickety stairs to a small room with a shattered window.

My meager possessions rest in a corner: a bedroll, a locked trunk containing my spare daggers, potions from the Red Purna’s alchemists, and a single oil lamp.

I light the lamp, letting its weak flame illuminate the peeling walls.

My thoughts churn with the memory of Selene’s fierce stance.

I recall the spark in her eyes, how she refused to bow even in Orthani’s tightest grip.

She’s strong, so strong it might border on reckless.

That’s a risk I’ll have to manage. But it’s also an asset.

My lips curve in a humorless smile. Vaelith and Zareth must be circling her like vultures, each wanting to control her magic.

Let them try. If Selene truly stands unbroken, she might carve them up from within.

Sliding my cloak from my shoulders, I move to the trunk and retrieve a battered ledger.

I flip through pages of coded notes—contacts, enemies, bribes, infiltration routes.

I find the name of that archivist I recalled: Seran Lashiv.

Last known to be working in Orthani’s library of runes.

She might know how to remove or disrupt a purna’s runic restraints.

I’ll have to approach her carefully. If she refuses gold, there are other means to persuade her. She owes me a debt from the old days.

A wave of exhaustion sinks into my bones.

The night’s infiltration took its toll, along with my constant vigilance.

I set the ledger aside and rub my temples.

My mind drifts to the flashback once more: the screams, the metallic tang of blood, my sister’s lifeless eyes.

A slow burn of hatred anchors me, a reminder that Orthani’s downfall is nonnegotiable.

With Selene’s help, I might expedite that cause.

I can’t stay still for long. If the guards intensify their patrols after my sabotage, I’ll need to relocate soon.

But for a brief spell, I allow myself to lean against the wall, letting the lamp’s glow flicker across the floor.

My heartbeat slows, yet the swirl of thoughts doesn’t ease.

Selene’s expression haunts me, that mix of scorn and raw power.

She saw me for what I am: a man with no illusions left, entangled in a war that leaves no room for innocence.

Perhaps she recognized a mirror of her own betrayal.

Eventually, I rouse myself. Sleep is a risk here.

I rummage in my trunk for a small sphere of chaos infusion—enough to jolt me awake if needed.

I swallow a drop of it, coughing at the bitter tang.

The energy surges in my veins, heightening my senses.

Perfect. I slip onto a tattered armchair near the window, gazing out at Orthani’s starlit skyline.

The labyrinth of towers stands silent, but behind that stillness, I sense the city’s roiling secrets.

Somewhere in that fortress, Selene is likely pacing her new quarters, cursing me, the Red Purna, Orthani, or all of the above.

A corner of my mouth quirks in a wry smile.

I don’t blame her. If I were in her shoes, I’d loathe every conspirator.

Still, she knows now that I can slip through Orthani’s defenses.

Maybe that assurance will keep her from despair.

If she hates me but remains alive, that’s good enough for now.

Above the rooftops, the moon sinks low, bathing Orthani in a ghostly glow.

My shoulders ache from tension. I close my eyes, allowing the faint hush of distant city noises lull me.

For a moment, my mind wanders to a possible future: orthani’s gates shattered, the high lords begging for mercy they never granted.

I picture Vaelith on his knees, that smug face twisted in defeat.

Zareth undone by his own psionic cruelty, or by Selene’s mind-lash. I can almost taste the victory.

And if the Red Purna arrives to seize control once Orthani is in ruins, I’ll deal with them too.

I may be an assassin in their employ, but my loyalty rests only with my own cause: vengeance, and perhaps a slender thread of justice for the innocent.

Ai deserves a chance to grow without becoming a weapon.

Selene deserves the chance to stand tall, free of shackles.

A new wave of determination ripples through me.

There’s no turning back. I’ll gather every resource, spin every lie, and carve a path out for Selene and Ai, if it means bringing down Orthani’s leaders in the process.

My dagger glints in the lamp’s light, a reflection of my lethal resolve.

The next few days will be crucial. I can’t fail.

Too much rests on this precarious alliance.

The lamp sputters, flickering close to extinction.

I remain in that armchair, still as a statue, gaze fixed on the fortress’s dark silhouette.

My chest tightens as I picture the corridors I snuck through, Vaelith’s crest on polished doors, the flicker of anger in Selene’s eyes.

If everything aligns, we’ll set this city ablaze from within.

And I’ll be smiling when the flames devour the tyrants who took everything from me.

Yes, the Red Purna might have lied. But that’s a game I’m willing to play.

Because in the end, I have a single guiding truth: Orthani will reap what it sowed.

One day, its proud banners will lie in ashes, and I’ll walk away free, the ghosts of my family finally at peace.

And if Selene stands by my side when the last stone crumbles, so much the better.

If she stands in my way, we’ll settle that, too.

With that fierce promise echoing in my mind, I snuff the lamp and sit in darkness, planning.

Dawn creeps closer, but the city never truly sleeps.

Neither do I, not when vengeance remains incomplete.

So I wait, perched on the edge of rage and cunning, ready to weave the next threads of chaos.

Once Selene and I converge on a single purpose, Orthani’s days will be numbered, and I will taste the satisfaction of my long-awaited revenge.