The vanguard didn't move with the clatter of a traditional army. They moved like a localized shadow—a hundred black-clad figures slipping through the bruised-purple mist of dawn like ink bleeding into water. By the time the first rays of sunlight touched the needle-sharp spires of the Dresvan estate, the perimeter guards were already silent, their lives snuffed out before they could draw a breath.
I rode at the head of the column. My new cloak—stiff, cold, and smelling of the harsh lye used to scrub away the scent of sandalwood—snapped in the morning wind. Kaelen rode to my left, his face a granite mask of duty.
"Remember the order," Kaelen murmured, his voice barely audible over the rhythmic thud of hooves. "Contain the Princess. Eradicate the Shields. No survivors among the staff. We leave nothing but ash."
"I heard him the first time," I snapped. My eyes were fixed on the high stone balcony where I had stood with Silas only hours before. My stomach twisted into a cold, hard knot. I had told Silas to run, but if the Unseen were as stubborn as the legends suggested, he'd still be there, waiting for the storm.
We crested the final rise, and Califer's signal—a single, shrieking flare of red alchemist's fire—tore through the sky.
The assault was surgical. The Hive's initiates breached the gates with powdered explosives, the sound like a titan's clap that shook the earth. I leaped from my horse before it had even fully stopped, my twin daggers unsheathed and singing as they left their guards. My objective was the solar—the most likely sanctuary for a royal under duress.
The hallways were a blur of screaming tapestries and the metallic tang of blood. I moved through the chaos like a ghost, parrying a guard's desperate lunge and sidestepping a falling chandelier without slowing my pace. I wasn't killing; I was navigating. Every door I passed, I looked for a flash of silver hair or the scent of sandalwood.
I reached the solar's heavy oak doors. They were already ajar, the wood splintered around the lock.
Inside, the room was a ruin. Furniture was overturned, and ancient scrolls were strewn across the floor like autumn leaves. At the center of the wreckage stood Silas. He was wounded; a dark stain bloomed across his shoulder, turning his tunic a deep, heavy crimson. But his sword was out, glowing with a faint, ethereal blue light that pulsed in time with his ragged breathing.
"Lysia," he breathed, his golden eyes finding mine through the narrow slit of my mask. "You came back."
"I came to take the Scroll, Silas," I said, my voice projecting for the benefit of any Hive ears lingering in the hall. I stepped closer, my voice dropping to a frantic, jagged whisper. "You have to go. Now. Califer sent the whole vanguard. They're going to burn this place to the ground to hide the bodies."
"It's too late," Silas said, a tragic, knowing smile touching his lips. He gestured toward the corner of the room.
There, huddled in a high-backed chair, was the Princess. But she wasn't the trembling, porcelain doll the rumors described. She was preternaturally calm, her eyes fixed on a small, lead-bound cylinder in her lap—the Aegis Scroll.
"Take her," Silas whispered. "If the Hive gets the Scroll, they'll break the seal and the kingdom falls. But if you take her, you can get her to the sanctuary in the High-Valleys."
"I can't betray the Hive, Silas. They'll hunt me to the ends of the earth."
"You already have," he said, stepping toward me, his blade lowering in a gesture of impossible trust.
Before I could respond, the balcony window shattered in a rain of glass. Kaelen plummeted into the room, followed by three of Califer's elite "Stingers," their black armor gleaming like beetle shells.
"Excellent work, Lysia!" Kaelen shouted, his eyes darting hungrily to the Princess. "You've cornered them. Move aside so we can finish this and take the prize."
I looked at Silas, bleeding and defiant. I looked at the Princess, silent and still. Then, I looked at Kaelen—my brother-in-arms, the only person who had ever shared my bread. The twist in my gut finally hardened into a diamond-sharp resolve.
I didn't move aside. I stepped in front of Silas, my blades leveled at Kaelen's throat.
"The girl is mine," I said, my voice echoing with a reaper's cold authority. "And so is the Shield. Califer wants them questioned. I'll kill the first man who touches them."
Kaelen's expression darkened. "The orders were clear, Lysia. Eradicate the Shields. You're overstepping your rank."
"I am the Reaper," I hissed. "I don't take orders from the vanguard. I take them from the Master."
Kaelen hesitated, his sword dipping an inch. But then, a voice drifted in from the shattered window—cold, thin, and sharp as a razor blade.
"Then it is a pity, Lysia, that your Master has changed his mind."
Califer climbed over the threshold, his boots crunching on the broken glass with a slow, deliberate rhythm. He wasn't looking at the Princess or the Scroll. He was looking at me with a gaze of profound, mocking disappointment.
"You see, Kaelen?" Califer said, gesturing toward me with a gloved hand. "I told you the sandalwood was a symptom of a deeper rot. She didn't come here to capture the Shield. She came to protect him."
Califer turned his gaze to the Princess. "And as for the girl... tell me, Lysia, did you really think I didn't know who she was?"
The Princess stood up then. She didn't look at Silas, and she didn't look at me. She walked straight toward Califer, the Aegis Scroll held out like a holy offering.
"The seal is ready, Father," she said, her voice devoid of emotion, as flat and cold as a tombstone.
My heart stopped. Father?
The "Princess" reached up, peeling a thin layer of wax and pigment from her neck to reveal the mark of the Hive—the branded crown.
"Meet my daughter, Elara," Califer said, taking the Scroll from her hands with a flourish. "The true Princess was never at this estate, Lysia. She was moved weeks ago. This was never a hunt for a royal. This was a loyalty test for a Reaper."
He looked at Silas, then back to me, his eyes gleaming with a terrifying, triumphant cruelty.
"And you, my dear, have failed spectacularly. Kaelen? Kill them all. Starting with the girl who forgot she was a weapon."
The Stingers lunged. The air exploded into a cacophony of steel on steel. I parried the first strike, my heart cold with the realization that my entire life had been a play, and the curtain had just fallen.
"Get her out of here!" Silas roared, throwing himself into the path of Kaelen's blade to give me a second of breathing room.
I didn't think. I grabbed the girl—the traitor, Elara—and the Scroll, realization dawning that if the "Princess" was a fake, then the Scroll she held might be the only real thing in this room. Or perhaps the biggest lie of all.
"Silas, no!" I screamed, but the room was already disappearing into a cloud of smoke and fire as the Hive's demolition team began their final work.
I dove through the shattered window, the Scroll clutched to my chest, falling away from the life I knew and into a world that wanted me dead.