The people who had given them shelter had turned against them.
Shervin didn't have a lot of time to think. He heard footsteps in the dark. A hush of an expelled breath. Some murmurs. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he forgot he was thirsty.
He first bolted the door from the inside. Then, he dashed towards Naira's bed, and shook her awake.
"Naira, wake the hell up! They're coming for us!"
She woke up immediately, like she knew this was going to happen. She didn't even ask any questions, and sprang up.
"Were you sleeping with one eye open?" asked Shervin, surprised by her sudden alertness. She shrugged, like she had done this thing a thousand times before.
"So much for the City of Music," she scoffed. "Simple living my ass. I knew there was something off about that woman. Her behaviour was too saccharine sweet."
"What do we do now?"
"Where are they?" she asked.
Shervin jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Out there, on the staircase," he said.
"Well, the window is our only option then," she said, like it was the most normal thing to say.
That's when there was a heavy knock on the door. "Open up!"
"It's at least two stories," Shervin protested.
"You've got a better idea?" said Naira. "You want to negotiate with someone who wants to kidnap you?"
The knocking intensified.
"Okay, know any padding wards? Something that could break our fall?" he said.
Naira went to the window and peered down. Shervin's eyes were glued to the door as the knocking continued. Then, there was the sound of a hard shove, as the door threatened to come apart on its hinges.
"What do you see?"
"There is a pipe... and some bushes on the ground."
"Okay, you go first," said Shervin, as someone rammed hard against the door. Naira climbed out of the window. Shervin saw her expertly grip the ledge, and glide over to the pipe that ran from the outer wall to the ground below. Shervin made his move when Naira was safely gripping the pipe and climbing down.
That's when the door broke open. Two men barged in, wearing silver cloaks. Before Shervin climbed out of the window, he saw a sigil on the cloak. Two eyes, flaming red, the ones he had seen in the dream.
"There he is!" one of them pointed to the window. The other one was at the window in a blur, gazing into Shervin's soul. He had a pale face, red hair slicked back, and eyes dead as a corpse. Shervin gripped the ledge, trying to swing and make the jump towards the pipe, when the man grabbed his wrist. His grip was all ice, and Shervin felt an electric shiver course through his body.
Shervin tried to jerk off the grip, but it felt like the weight of a hundred stones was upon him.
"It's futile to resist, Shervin La'Ran," said the man. "Come with us. We will show you the way."
"Who are you? Why are you after us?" asked Shervin.
"Haven't you wondered your entire life who you are?" said the man, his voice a shrill, cold whisper that dug into Shervin's soul.
The man began pulling Shervin back into the room, but he resisted. He scratched at the man's arm with his fingernails. The man winced, but his grip never loosened.
"I won't come with you lot!" screamed Shervin, still hanging by the window-ledge.
By this time, Naira was already down.
"Should I get the girl?" said the other man with the silver cloak.
"No, she is not important. Help me pull him up. He is heavy for some reason." The man whose grip was around Shervin's arm tried all his might to pull him up, but Shervin pulled back, pressing against the brick wall with his feet.
"He's just a kid, what's the matter... Oh... Oh, seven realms..."
The other man was gazing at Shervin's right arm, the one in the visor-like grip of the silver-cloak by the window.
"He carries the mark," whispered the other man. The man who was pulling Shervin gaped, as his grip loosened around Shervin's wrist.
That's when Shervin saw it too.
Thin tendrils of light were shooting out of Shervin's skin, forming a pattern, a mark, something he had seen only too many times before. The mark that was scrawled on the shrine in the woods. The mark he had seen on the door of this establishment.
Fang and Tail.
"I am burning, ahh," screamed the man who had held Shervin's wrist. He let Shervin go.
The mark glowed brilliantly, momentarily blinding Shervin. His grip almost faltered, but Shervin held purchase on a crusty niche in the brick wall. Balancing his body somehow, he lunged towards the pipe, hoping to all the seven heavens he doesn't miss.
He didn't. The pipe was cold, but he held on, and slowly slid towards the ground. The rusted metal of the pipe scratched his palm bloody, but anything was better than to be captured by the silver cloaks above. As he reached the ground, he cast a quick, shuddering glance at the window, where the silver-cloak was clutching his charred husk of a hand, his flame-red eyes lingering on Shervin. Then, he disappeared inside the room.
"Naira, we have to go," he said.
Naira looked at him, like he was a stranger.
"What happened?" he said.
"I... I can't believe it," she said. "You... you are the chalice?"
"No I am not," Shervin spoke, in denial.
But then he saw his wrist, and the mark that had singed itself permanently on it. Fang and Tail. A winged serpent eating its own tail. The sign of the Violet God.
"My father has gone on a futile mission," she spoke in a broken whisper. "When the man they need to protect at all cost is with me. Right here. The Ascended One."
"What? What are you talking about, Naira? We have to go, we have no time. Those men will come down any moment."
"Back in the ghost town, what I saw on your face... during your episode... it was this. Your eyes went deep purple for a moment. When you said you wanted to crush the world, your face had a look. I had my apprehensions then. Maybe you were just running on adrenaline. But now I know."
Shervin was breathing heavily. This was too much information to take in. Him? The Ascended One? What did that word even mean? He hadn't heard it ever in the stories of the Violet God.
But there was no time to brood over this. Out of the corner, from behind the back wall of the tavern, came the silver-cloaks.
"You can't run, Shervin, not for long," said the one whose hand was now a charred stump. "Raizan, take him."
"But Yavin... he is...," the one called Raizan hesitated.
"Just a boy. With his mark, but still a boy. He doesn't know how to channel the kith. We can take him." The silver-cloak called Yavin spoke with an eerie calm in his voice. Both men moved glacially towards Shervin and Naira.
She gripped his elbows, tightly.
"No tricks this time," said Yavin. "You will come with us. You will comply."
But suddenly, clear as day, Shervin knew what he had to do. All he had to do, was what he had done that night in the woods.
"Naira, grab my wrist," he whispered. "Do it now."
Naira clasped her palm around his wrist, tight as a visor. The silver-cloaks moved towards them. Raizan created a ball of blue fire out of thin air and was ready to throw it at Shervin. Yavin was merely standing, creating eddies of dust from the ground, small whirlpool threatening to become a storm.
All threatening tactics.
But Shervin just closed his eyes, and thought of home.