"Where are we going?" Kael shouted, his voice echoing off the jagged stone walls of the tunnel. Dust swirled around their feet as they ran, each step shaking loose more debris.
Magnus didn't answer. Instead, he raised his hand, and a surge of Aether shot through the tunnel. Rock and dirt groaned and cracked; a section of the wall collapsed behind them, sending clouds of dust choking their retreat.
Kael stumbled, coughing. "Hey! Old man! What was that? You're a Spark too?"
Magnus didn't flinch. "We need to run faster, or we'll be buried alive."
The air shook as the tunnel groaned and splintered. Chunks of stone rained down behind them, sealing their escape route in a cloud of dust and jagged rubble.
By the time they burst into the open night, the tunnel had collapsed completely. Magnus' gaze swept the horizon, calculating. "No time to rest." Without a pause, they sprinted again, the weight of exhaustion pressing on their lungs and legs.
---
Back at Magnus' house, the Crimson Shadow assassins were already on the move. One descended the stairwell toward the hidden tunnel, eager to pursue, when a firm hand gripped his arm.
"Don't!"
The first assassin froze. "Why?"
"I can feel it," the second said, calm and assured. "Aether is covering the tunnel."
A heartbeat later, a distant rumble shook the ground—the tunnel had collapsed.
"H-how did I not feel it?" The first whispered, eyes wide in disbelief.
"Few can mask their Aether like this. Whoever took them is a serious problem." The second crouched, gathering dust from the rubble, rubbing it between his fingers, studying it as though it held the secret to the boy's escape.
From above, a screech cut through the night. A hawk, sacred and trained, circled high before diving, claws extended. "Sir! I found them!" The call came from another assassin, tracking the duo through the night sky.
"Good," said the one kneeling in the dust, voice sharp as broken glass. "Move. Eliminate the threat."
With a single command, the assassins disappeared into the darkness, heading toward where Magnus and Kael had emerged.
---
Magnus slowed only slightly, scanning the night. A faint pulse of hostile Aether reached him, the assassins closing in.
"This is bad," he muttered, tension tightening his jaw. "They're faster than I anticipated. I can't outrun them forever."
Kael's breath came ragged. "Who are they?" he demanded, voice rising. "Why are we running? What are they?"
Magnus' face tightened, eyes wary. "Don't speak, boy. Save your energy. You might need it soon."
The ground trembled underfoot as the Crimson Shadow closed the distance. A dagger whipped through the night, landing mere meters from Kael and Magnus. Before they could react, it erupted with a concussive force, throwing them both hard to the ground. Dust stung their eyes, and ash coated their skin.
Footsteps came—slow, deliberate, and terrifyingly confident.
"Do you really think you can escape us?" a cold voice sliced through the night. "I knew it was you, Magnus."
Magnus froze, then turned to the one who was speaking. "I know I cannot hide from you… Nox Vaelen," he said under his breath, almost reverently. His gaze flicked to the boy—alive, defiant, trembling but standing.
The leader of the Crimson Shadow, Nox Vaelen, looked at Kael and smiled, the chill in his voice slicing the night. "You know, kid… for your age, you're the only one who managed to rise after that strike. You must be… special."
He advanced, calm, predator-like. Magnus shifted to intercept, but the other assassins pinned him in place with iron grips.
"I promise it will be quick," Nox said, voice eerily gentle, "painless even. I do not wish this, but orders are orders."
Kael's eyes glowed a fierce green, veins pulsing bright orange beneath his skin. Nox's eyes narrowed—he sensed trouble, raw power untamed. He raised a hand, lightning crackling along his elemental seal..
"Goodbye, kid."
The bolt slammed into the ground before Kael, sending a storm of dust and fragments into the air. Magnus' cry tore through the chaos. "No!"
---
Far away, in the mountain city of Cresthall, a shadow waited patiently. It watched the blue-lit spires and the floating sanctums glinting above the cliffside. The air was crisp with altitude, carrying the scent of stone and cold metal.
Alfred Blackthorn emerged from the royal hall alone, his cloak brushing the polished stone. He moved as though nothing had happened, unaware of the silent presence trailing him. The figure slipped through guards and lanterns like smoke, following every step.
Alfred returned to Solflare, the city of his birth, and entered his home. The figure lingered outside, unseen, heart hammering with anticipation. It waited until Alfred's breathing deepened, the soft rhythm of sleep filling the quiet house, before slipping inside.
It searched carefully, every creak of the floor magnified in its ears. Minutes passed. It remembered the envelope Alfred had carried from the hall and cursed softly under its breath. Nothing. Alfred shifted in his sleep, a faint sigh of comfort in the otherwise tense room.
Then—there it was. Beneath his pillow, the envelope rested like a secret too dangerous to ignore. It snatched it, hands trembling with adrenaline.
Alfred moved, half awake. "Who's there!?"
The figure froze. In that moment, it realized Alfred had noticed the open window. With a swift motion, he shut it, forcing it to abandon the easiest escape.
Alfred Blackthorn's house groaned under the stillness of the night; footsteps of unaware servants echoed softly nearby. A delicate vase wobbled on a side table, teetering toward destruction. Instinctively, it snatched it from the edge, heart hammering, saving it from shattering.
The figure had no choice but to flee through the door. Outside, finally safe, it opened the envelope. Inside was a contract: Alfred Blackthorn had agreed to hunt the Ashborn, each kill compensated with fifty gold coins.
But it was the signature that struck terror into the figure's chest: Orion Saelvarin.
King Orion Saelvarin himself.
Recognition slammed into the figure like a hammer. The man who spoke at royal ceremonies, whose voice carried command and authority, had sanctioned murder. The kingdom's crown gleamed above the mountains, but behind it lurked corruption and cruelty—the very veins of Aetherveil.
And the hunt had only just begun..