When Alen learned the truth about what the Dark Guild had done to Mordain and his people, a crushing weight settled in his chest. That same dread now twisted violently inside him , because he knew there was a real chance the Dark Guild would do the exact same thing to Varkos.
This wasn't just a mission anymore. It wasn't about the alliance, or about clever strategy, or about whether they could still take down the Grand Magus in time. Alen wasn't thinking of politics or war.
He just wanted to save the people he had dragged into this.
The men who had trusted him.
The allies who had bled beside him.
His soldiers followed behind, trying to keep pace, but Alen pushed ahead alone. Flames coiled beneath him as he ran, mana igniting at the soles of his boots. He blasted forward like a rocket, every jump sending him soaring over cars, rooftops, and the twisting roadways of the city.
Faster. Faster. Please let me be wrong.
