The wind howled through the empty streets of Varinthal, carrying the scent of smoke and fear. Kael crouched behind a shattered cart, heart hammering.
"They're close," he whispered, his fingers brushing the small ember that danced across his palm. Just a spark — barely enough to light a candle — but enough to draw attention if he wasn't careful.
Footsteps echoed against the cobblestones. Kael's eyes darted to the alley ahead. In a heartbeat, he hurled the spark, and it exploded into a tiny blaze that illuminated the shadows. From the darkness, two Inquisitors emerged, cloaks flapping, eyes scanning.
Kael swallowed. He shouldn't have come to the market tonight. The scroll said the Ember Stone was here — the last of its kind. But curiosity had burned brighter than caution, and now… he was trapped.
Then, a shadow moved. A silver arrow whistled through the air, embedding itself in the leader's chest. The Inquisitor screamed, staggering. From the rooftops, a figure dropped down, landing lightly on the cobblestones.
"Over here, newbie," a voice called. Lyria, with her bow still drawn, winked. "You're lucky I like playing with fire."
Kael exhaled, trembling. Luck, he thought, was the only thing keeping him alive tonight. But luck wouldn't save him forever.