The academy gates were a battlefield. Smoke choked the air, and the clang of steel echoed like a funeral bell. Ethan fought back-to-back with Lira and the hooded stranger, their blades cutting through the swarm of attackers. These were no bandits. They moved with lethal precision, their faces masked, their swords gleaming with poison.
"They're not here for loot!" Lira snarled, firing an arrow into a man's throat. "They're assassins!"
Ethan parried a strike, his aura flickering weakly. "Who sent them?!"
"Ask the princess!" a hooded man growled, his voice familiar.
Before Ethan could react, a shadow loomed—**Varsak**, the assassin leader. Tall, gaunt, and clad in blackened armor, he wielded twin serrated blades. His face was a patchwork of scars, his eyes voids.
"The boy dies first," Varsak hissed.
Ethan lunged. His rusty sword met Varsak's left blade, sparks flying. For a moment, he held his ground, his aura flaring—until Varsak's second blade slashed upward. Ethan twisted, but the tip caught his ribs, slicing deep.
He staggered, blood soaking his tunic.
"Pathetic," Varsak sneered. "You're just a spark. I'll snuff you out."
Lira's arrow whistled past Varsak's ear, forcing him to retreat. "Ethan, *move*!"
But Ethan's legs buckled. The world blurred.
The hooded man caught Ethan as he fell. "Enough! To the forest!"
Lira covered their retreat, arrows thinning the horde. Varsak's laughter chased them. "Run, little rats! I always find my prey!"
They fled through alleys and over rooftops, the assassins closing in. At the city gates, the hooded man tore off his cloak, revealing **Master Varyn's** grizzled face.
"You?!" Lira spat. "You're supposed to be neutral!"
"Neutrality is a lie," Varyn snapped, hoisting Ethan onto his shoulder. "The first prince pays better than the princess."
In the forest, Varyn dumped Ethan against a mossy stone. The boy's breath was shallow, his wound seeping. Lira pressed a torn cloak to it, her hands steady but her voice shaking. "Why save him if you serve the prince?"
Varyn's gaze hardened. "The prince wants the princess's pawns crushed. But Ethan… his aura is raw. *Useful*. I'd rather steal him than kill him."
Lira's bow creaked as she aimed at Varyn. "Touch him, and I'll—"
"Save your threats," Varyn interrupted. "We're all pawns. Even him."
Ethan stirred, his eyes fluttering. "Lira…?"
"Stay down, idiot," she muttered.
Varsak found them at dawn.
He emerged from the mist like a wraith, his blades dripping. "You've led me a fine chase. But games end now."
Lira fired. Varsak batted the arrow aside. Varyn drew his sword, its edge humming with aura. "Take the boy and run. I'll hold him."
"You'll die," Lira said.
"I've died before," Varyn replied.
As the two men clashed, Lira dragged Ethan deeper into the woods. Behind them, the clash of steel crescendoed—then silenced.
They hid in a cave, Ethan's feverish mutters echoing off the walls. Lira peeled back his bloodied tunic. The wound was blackening.
"Poison," she whispered.
Varsak's voice slithered through the trees. "You can't hide forever, girl."
Lira strung her last arrow. "Stay alive, Ethan. Or I'll kill you myself."
At dusk, Varyn stumbled into the cave, his arm mangled, his face ashen. "Varsak's gone. For now."
"Why help us?!" Lira demanded.
Varyn tossed a vial of antidote at her. "The boy's worth more alive. And you… you're interesting."
As Lira forced the antidote down Ethan's throat, Varyn leaned against the wall, his voice fading. "The princes' war is coming. Ethan's aura makes him a weapon. The princess wants to wield him. The prince wants him dead. And *Varsak*… he serves whoever pays in blood."
Ethan's eyes shot open, his aura surging suddenly—a wild, golden flame.
Varyn laughed bitterly. "There it is. The spark that could burn this kingdom to ash."
Three days later, Ethan woke in a stranger's cart, Lira asleep beside him.
But as the cart rattled toward Valenhold, shadows followed.
High in a tree, Varsak watched, his blades sharpened.
*"Soon, boy."*