Chapter 16 – Blades in the Dark
Moonlight spilled across the floor of the dormitory, silver and cold. The three masked intruders moved like shadows given flesh, blades whispering as they cut the air.
"Karl Draven," the first hissed, his voice low and inhuman, distorted as if a second voice spoke beneath it. "The fracture belongs to our master."
Karl stood tall, bare-chested, fists tightening until his knuckles popped. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, the whispers already clawing for his mind.
Yes. Break them. Spill them.
He forced the voice back down. Not yet. Not here.
Jax rolled out of bed, clutching a dagger he barely knew how to use. "Not exactly the welcome committee I was hoping for tonight."
Lira's staff lit the room with a flare of white light. "Stay close! These aren't common thieves."
The first assassin lunged at Karl. A curved blade arced down, gleaming in the moonlight. Karl caught it with his bare hand. Steel bit into his palm, blood welled, but he didn't flinch. With a roar, he yanked the assassin forward and slammed his forehead into the mask. Bone crunched. The assassin crumpled to the floor.
The other two closed in fast.
One hurled throwing knives at Lira, the blades humming with dark magic. Her wards flared, deflecting the strikes, but the impact drove her back against the wall.
The other came for Jax. Fast. Too fast.
"Uh—nope!" Jax yelped, fumbling through a scroll. He shouted the first spell he found. A burst of wind erupted, blasting the assassin back across the room. Unfortunately, it also sent Jax flying into the dresser. "Ow. Totally meant to do that."
Karl was already moving. He caught the wind-stunned assassin by the throat and hurled him into the wall so hard the plaster cracked.
The last assassin, the knife-thrower, drew twin blades glowing with voidlight. His voice rasped under the mask. "Your strength is meaningless. The fracture cannot be contained. It must return to the King."
Karl's fists burned. "Tell your King I'm not his."
The assassin struck, blades slashing in a storm. Karl dodged left, blocked right, sparks flying as steel met flesh. One blade carved a line across his shoulder, hot blood spilling down his arm. He ignored it, pivoted, and drove his fist into the assassin's ribs. The impact sent the man skidding across the floor, crashing into Jax's overturned chair.
"Stay down," Karl growled.
But the assassin only laughed, blood spilling from behind the mask. "You are already his. Each punch you throw widens the crack. Each breath binds you closer."
The whispers roared in Karl's skull.
Break him. Tear him open. Spill the red, taste the ash.
Karl staggered, clutching his head. His vision swam, the world bending at the edges. The mural. The chains. The shadowed crown.
"Karl!" Lira's voice cut through. "Fight it! Not him—it!"
Her words snapped him back.
The assassin lunged for her.
Karl moved faster. His fist blurred, smashing into the assassin's mask with the force of a falling boulder. The mask shattered, fragments scattering across the floor. The man collapsed, unconscious—or worse.
Silence fell, broken only by Jax groaning on the floor. "Well… that's one way to ruin a good night's sleep."
Lira lowered her staff, light still trembling. She knelt beside the shattered mask, eyes wide. "These weren't common killers. Look at the mark."
She turned the mask. Etched into the inside was a symbol: a jagged crown, broken in three.
"The Order of Shattered Crowns," she whispered. "I've seen this in forbidden texts. They're a cult that worships the Void King. And now… they know you're the fracture."
Karl's chest was heaving, blood still dripping from his hand. His fists trembled—not from pain, but from the whispers still clawing at him.
"They came for me," he said, voice low. "And they'll keep coming."
Lira met his gaze. "Then we'll be ready."
Jax groaned, sitting up. "By 'we,' you mean all three of us, right? Because I'd like to formally vote against assassins in my bedroom."
Despite the weight pressing on him, Karl managed a small, grim smile.
But deep inside, he knew the cult's words were true in one way.
Every fight he won, every fist he threw—he felt the fracture widening.
And somewhere in the dark, the Void King laughed.