Chapter 4 – The Cloak and the Blade
The stranger left without another word, stepping back into the rain-slick streets of Durelin.
Lucian waited a moment, then tossed a coin onto the counter and followed.
The city was a maze of narrow alleys and crooked lanes, each one smelling faintly of wet stone and smoke. The stranger moved with purpose, never glancing back, as if expecting Lucian to follow.
They passed shuttered shops and dimly lit windows until they reached an abandoned carriage yard. Rusting wheels and broken crates littered the ground, the kind of place the city guard rarely patrolled.
The stranger finally turned.
"You ask too many questions for someone who wants to stay alive," he said, his voice calm but edged. "Name's Kairon. You're looking for the Ashen Veil — I can point you in their direction."
Lucian studied him. "And what do you get out of it?"
Kairon's expression darkened. "A chance to strike back at the people who took everything from me."
Before Lucian could reply, movement flickered in the shadows. Three men stepped from the gloom, armed with short blades. Church enforcers, but not in uniform — their dark cloaks carried no insignia.
"Followed again," Kairon muttered. "You really do bring trouble."
The first man lunged. Steel flashed in the dim light, but Kairon moved faster, his curved dagger slicing across the attacker's arm. Lucian ducked another blow, sweeping the man's legs from under him before slamming his fist into the side of his jaw.
The third enforcer came in from behind, blade aimed for Lucian's ribs. He barely caught the movement in the corner of his eye when Kairon stepped in, twisting the man's wrist and driving his dagger upward in one clean, efficient motion.
It was over in seconds. The rain washed thin streams of blood into the cracks of the cobblestones.
Kairon wiped his blade on a fallen cloak. "If you still want answers, meet me at the east gate after midnight. And don't be followed this time."
Without waiting for a response, he melted into the dark, leaving Lucian standing alone among the dead.
Somewhere far off, thunder rumbled — the storm wasn't letting up, and neither, it seemed, was the city's hunger for blood.