Zara's POV
I burn the note.
My hands don't shake as I hold the paper over my candle flame. I watch the words curl and blacken—"He knows about your mother"—until there's nothing left but ash.
Evidence destroyed. Just like I was trained.
But I can't burn the questions eating me alive.
How does Kaelen Thorne know about my mother? Did he know her? Did he hurt her? Is that why the Architect wants him dead—revenge for something he did to my family?
Or is this all a lie? Another mind game to keep me obedient?
I spread Kaelen's file across my desk, forcing myself to focus. If I'm going to get answers, I need to get close to him first. And to get close, I need to become an expert on every detail of his life.
The first page shows his battle record. It's impressive and terrifying.
Battle of Thornfield Pass: 847 enemy soldiers killed.Siege of Blackwater: 1,203 enemy casualties.Defense of Astoria's capital: 2,341 enemies eliminated.
Four thousand, three hundred and ninety-one people dead by his magic. More than a hundred times the number I've killed. The file calls him a hero. A savior. The kingdom's greatest weapon.
We're not so different, he and I.
Except he kills from a distance with magic and honor and glory. I kill up close with blades and silence and shame.
I flip to the next page: daily routines.
Kaelen wakes at dawn. Trains alone for two hours. Meets with advisors. Studies ancient magic texts in his library. Eats dinner alone. Works late into the night. Sleeps four hours. Repeats.
He has no wife. No children. No close friends listed except someone named Theron Cross, his military advisor.
He's alone. Just like me.
Something twists in my chest—not quite sympathy, but close. I crush it immediately. Feeling sorry for your target gets you killed.
I study his fortress next. It sits high in the Frost Mountains, protected by magical barriers and a small army. Three ways in: the main gate (impossible), the servant entrance (possible), or the cliffside window that leads to his private study (suicidal but doable).
"Servant entrance," I mutter, making notes. I'll need a cover identity. A reason to be there. Papers that pass inspection.
Commander Sevrin can forge anything. He'll have it ready by morning.
I'm sketching the fortress layout from memory when something in the file catches my eye. A small notation in the margin, almost too faint to read:
Sister: deceased, age 12. Parents: deceased. Last living relative: none.
Kaelen is an orphan too.
My pen stops moving. I read it again, this irrational need to understand him suddenly overwhelming. What happened to his family? How did they die? Was he seven years old and scared like I was?
Did someone give him a choice, or was he forced into this life of killing too?
"Stop it," I whisper to myself. "He's a target. That's all."
But my hands pull out the photograph of my mother anyway. I set it next to Kaelen's picture, studying them side by side. Her kind eyes. His tired ones. Two strangers who somehow share a connection to me.
What if he knew her? What if she's the reason I'm being sent to kill him?
What if completing this mission means I'll never know the truth about who I am?
A soft knock interrupts my thoughts. Not Sevrin's demanding pound—this is gentler. Careful.
I hide the photographs and open the door.
A girl stands there, maybe sixteen, with red hair and nervous green eyes. Her Veil uniform marks her as a trainee—someone still earning her place in the organization.
"Operative Zara?" she whispers, glancing down the hallway. "I was told to deliver this."
She hands me a small sealed envelope. No markings. No sender name.
"Who gave this to you?" I ask.
"I don't know. It was left in the trainee quarters with your name on it." She shifts uncomfortably. "Is... is it true? That you're going after the Archmage?"
Word travels fast in the Veil. I should tell her it's none of her business. Instead, I hear myself ask, "What's your name?"
"Eira, ma'am."
"How long have you been here, Eira?"
"Three years. Since I was thirteen." Her voice is small. "They took me after my village burned down. Said I had potential."
Thirteen. Old enough to remember her life before. Old enough to know what she lost.
"Do you ever think about leaving?" The question slips out before I can stop it.
Eira's eyes go wide with fear. "That's... we can't... they'd—"
"Never mind," I say quickly. "Forget I asked. Get back to your quarters before someone sees you here."
She practically runs down the hallway.
I close the door and stare at the envelope. Every instinct screams it's a trap. Don't open it. Burn it like you burned the note.
But my hands are already breaking the seal.
Inside is a single piece of paper with a message in handwriting I don't recognize:
"Your mother's name was Elara Moonwhisper. She was a healer from Astoria. Kaelen Thorne was there the night she died. Ask him why he didn't save her. Ask him why he let the Veil take you. Ask him why he's spent twelve years looking for you.
If you want the truth, don't kill him. Save him. The Architect's real target isn't Kaelen—it's you. This mission is your execution.
You have one ally in his fortress. Look for the silver moon pendant.
Burn this after reading. Trust no one. Especially not the Veil.
—A Friend You Haven't Met Yet"
The paper falls from my numb fingers.
My mother was a healer named Elara. She's dead. Kaelen was there when it happened. He's been looking for me for twelve years.
And this mission—my most important assignment—is actually meant to get me killed.
My mind races. Why would the Architect want me dead? I'm their best operative. Their masterpiece.
Unless I'm not. Unless I'm something else entirely. Something dangerous to them.
Something worth killing.
I pick up the letter with shaking hands, ready to burn it like instructed. But I pause, reading one line again: "Kaelen Thorne was there the night she died. Ask him why he didn't save her."
Did he kill my mother? Is he the reason I'm an orphan?
Or did he try to save her and fail?
Either way, burning this letter means burning my only lead to the truth.
I'm still deciding when my door crashes open.
Commander Sevrin stands there with four guards, his face twisted with rage.
"Seize her," he snarls. "She's been compromised."
Before I can react, before I can fight or run or even think, rough hands grab my arms. Magic-dampening shackles snap around my wrists. The letter is ripped from my hands.
Sevrin reads it, then smiles—cold and cruel. "So. Someone's been feeding you lies." He crumples the paper. "The Architect will be very disappointed."
"I didn't ask for that letter," I say, keeping my voice steady. "Someone planted it."
"Of course they did." He steps closer, and I smell wine on his breath. "But the fact that you didn't immediately report it? That you read it? Considered it?" His hand grips my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "That's treason, operative."
"I was about to burn it—"
"Too late." He releases me roughly. "Take her to reconditioning. We'll fix whatever's broken in her head before the mission."
No. Not reconditioning. Anything but that.
"Wait!" The word bursts out desperately. "I can still complete the mission. I'm loyal. I've never failed—"
"You're failing right now," Sevrin says. "Guards, move her."
They drag me toward the door. I fight, but the shackles drain my strength. My mind screams for a way out, any way out.
Then Sevrin's hand shoots up, stopping everyone.
He's staring at something on my desk. His face goes pale.
The photograph. The one of my mother. I forgot to hide it.
He picks it up slowly, his hands actually trembling. "Where did you get this?"
"The Architect gave it to me," I lie. "It was in the mission folder."
"Liar." But his voice wavers. He's scared. Actually scared. "The Architect swore all copies were destroyed. This shouldn't exist."
Wait. All copies? Meaning there were others? Meaning this photo is real, and important, and dangerous enough that the Architect tried to erase it from existence?
Sevrin looks at me, and for the first time in eleven years, I see uncertainty in his eyes.
"What else did they give you?" he demands.
And suddenly I understand: Sevrin doesn't know about the note. He doesn't know someone's working against the Veil from the inside. The Architect is keeping secrets from their own second-in-command.
Which means the letter might be telling the truth.
I meet Sevrin's eyes and take the biggest gamble of my life.
"Ask the Architect yourself," I say quietly. "If you dare."
His hand twitches toward his weapon. For a moment, I think he'll kill me right here.
Instead, he turns to the guards. "Change of plans. Lock her in her room. No one enters or leaves until I speak with the Architect." He points at me. "You have until dawn to convince me you're still loyal. If you can't..." He doesn't finish the sentence. He doesn't need to.
The guards shove me back into my room. The door slams. Locks click.
I'm alone again, hands still shackled, with hours until dawn and a choice that will decide everything.
Follow the mission. Kill Kaelen Thorne. Stay the Veil's perfect weapon.
Or trust a letter from a stranger, believe my mother was someone named Elara Moonwhisper, and bet my life that the man I'm supposed to kill might actually be trying to save me.
I look down at the shackles on my wrists.
Then I smile.
Because Commander Sevrin made one crucial mistake: he forgot that I've been planning escapes for two years.
And I've hidden lockpicks in places he'd never think to search.
Time to find out what Kaelen Thorne really knows about my mother.
Even if it kills me.