KAEL'S POV
The blade missed my throat by half an inch.
I twisted sideways, feeling the wind from the sword slice past my neck. My heart hammered against my ribs. Three senior assassins surrounded me in the dark training hall, and every single one of them wanted me dead.
Well, not really dead. Just beaten so badly I'd wish I was dead.
"Too slow, little shadow," Marcus growled. He was the oldest—thirty years of killing made him fast and mean. His sword came at me again, aiming for my stomach.
I didn't think. Thinking gets you killed.
I dropped flat to the stone floor as his blade whistled over my head. Behind me, Vera's footsteps scraped against stone—she was attacking from the back. On my left, Jin prepared another strike. They'd planned this. Corner me. Make me panic. Watch me fail my final test.
But they forgot one important thing about me.
I was born in darkness.
I closed my eyes and felt for the shadows. They were everywhere in this windowless room—thick and cold and hungry. The torches on the walls barely kept them back. I reached out with my mind, the way Master Corvus taught me since I was six years old.
The shadows answered like old friends.
"Where'd he go?" Vera shouted.
I'd melted into the darkness behind her. My body turned to smoke and shadow, invisible and silent. This was my gift. My only gift. Shadow magic made me special. Made me useful.
Made me worth keeping alive.
I reformed behind Jin, solid again, and kicked the back of his knee. He collapsed with a grunt. Before he could turn, I slammed my elbow into his neck—not hard enough to really hurt him, but hard enough to count as a killing blow.
"Jin's out!" Master Corvus's voice echoed from somewhere in the darkness. He was watching. He was always watching.
Two left.
Marcus and Vera circled me now, more careful. They'd trained together for years. They moved like parts of the same person, always knowing where the other would strike.
"You're just a kid," Marcus said, spinning his sword. "Eighteen years old and you think you're ready for S-rank missions? You'll die on your first job."
His words stung because part of me believed them.
I'd spent my whole life in the Veil compound, high in the mountains where screams echoed at night. I'd watched other kids disappear when they failed tests. I'd seen what Master Corvus did to weaklings.
I couldn't be weak. Weakness meant death.
"Stop talking and fight me," I snapped.
Marcus smiled, but it wasn't a nice smile. "Gladly."
They attacked together. Marcus high, Vera low. Their blades flashed in the torchlight like hungry teeth.
I dove into the nearest shadow, turning to smoke again. The shadows carried me across the room faster than running. I reformed on top of a weapons rack, balanced on the narrow beam.
"Coward!" Vera yelled. "Stop hiding!"
"Hiding is smart," I called back. "Master Corvus taught us that. Or weren't you listening?"
Her face turned red with anger. Good. Angry fighters make mistakes.
She charged at me, forgetting about Marcus entirely. I jumped down to meet her, and our blades crashed together. She was stronger than me—older, bigger, more training. My arms shook from blocking her strikes.
But I was faster.
I let her push me back, back, back toward the corner. She thought she was winning. I saw triumph flash in her eyes.
Then I dissolved into shadows right in front of her.
Her sword stabbed through empty darkness and hit the stone wall. The blade stuck there for just a second.
That's all I needed.
I reformed behind her and touched my practice blade to her spine. "You're dead."
"Vera's out!" Master Corvus announced.
Only Marcus remained.
He clapped slowly, his sword still ready. "Clever, little shadow. But tricks won't save you against someone with real experience."
Maybe he was right. Marcus had survived fifty missions. Fifty times he'd gone out to kill people and come back alive. I'd never been on a real mission. Never killed anyone real, only practice dummies and wild animals in the forest.
My hands started shaking. I hid them behind my back.
"Scared?" Marcus asked softly. "You should be. The world outside these walls will eat you alive."
"Then I'll eat it first," I said, trying to sound brave.
Marcus laughed. Then he attacked for real.
His blade moved so fast I barely saw it. I blocked, dodged, rolled away. He was everywhere at once, his sword seeking my heart, my head, my legs. Every strike meant to kill.
The shadows called to me, begging to help. But I was getting tired. Using shadow magic drained me, like running for hours without stopping. My legs felt heavy. My arms burned.
One more time. I just needed to disappear one more time.
Marcus's blade came at my face. I fell backward into the shadows, letting darkness swallow me whole.
But I didn't run away this time.
I sank into the floor itself, becoming one with the deepest shadow in the room—the patch of darkness directly beneath Marcus's feet.
He spun around, confused. "Where are you?"
I rose up behind him like a nightmare, my blade pressed against his throat before he could blink.
"Behind you," I whispered.
For three seconds, nobody moved. Then Master Corvus stepped into the torchlight, his footsteps echoing in the silent hall.
"Enough," he said quietly. His voice was always quiet, but somehow it filled the whole room. "Marcus is out. Kael wins."
My legs almost gave out from relief. I'd done it. Passed my final test. Proven I wasn't worthless.
Marcus stepped away from me, rubbing his throat. He didn't look angry anymore. He looked impressed. "Good luck out there, kid. You'll need it."
Master Corvus moved closer. He was tall and thin, with eyes like black holes that swallowed all light. I'd never seen him smile. Never seen him show any emotion except cold calculation.
"Kael," he said. "Come with me."
I followed him out of the training hall, through dark corridors carved from mountain stone. Other assassins pressed against walls as we passed, showing respect. Or maybe fear. With Master Corvus, it was the same thing.
He led me to his private chamber—a place I'd only been twice before, both times to be punished for mistakes. My stomach twisted with worry.
But when we entered, he turned to me with something almost like pride in his dead eyes.
"You exceeded expectations," he said. "You're ready."
"Ready for what, Master?"
"For your purpose." He walked to his desk and picked up a rolled scroll sealed with black wax. "Your first S-rank mission. The reason I've kept you alive all these years."
My heart jumped. S-rank missions were legendary. Only the best assassins got them. They paid fortunes. They changed the world.
They were almost always suicide.
Master Corvus held out the scroll. I took it with trembling hands. The black wax seal showed the Veil's symbol—a dagger wrapped in shadows.
"Open it," he commanded.
I broke the seal and unrolled the parchment. There were maps, guard schedules, escape routes. And at the top, one name written in blood-red ink:
ALDRIC THORNHAVEN
Below it, a single painted portrait showed a young man about my age. Handsome. Smiling. Storm-gray eyes that sparkled with hope and kindness.
Eyes exactly like mine.
"Who is he?" I asked, though something cold crept down my spine.
Master Corvus's lips curved into the first smile I'd ever seen on his face. It made him look like a corpse pretending to be human.
"Your target," he said. "The rebel prince uniting the Eastern Principalities against the Empire. Kill him, and the rebellion dies. You leave at dawn."
I stared at the portrait, unable to look away from those eyes. Those impossible, familiar eyes.
"Master," I said slowly, "why does he look like—"
"Like you?" Corvus finished. His smile widened. "That, my perfect weapon, is none of your concern. You have one job: put your blade through his heart. Can you do that?"
I should have said yes immediately. I should have bowed and thanked him for this honor.
But I couldn't stop staring at Aldric Thornhaven's face.
At my own face staring back from the painted canvas.