Auryn moved.
His blade sang. Cinderfang cut through the air trailing violet fire. Beautiful and deadly.
The assassin leader raised his enchanted blades. Crossed in a defensive manner.
Cinderfang met them.
Screech.
Metal shrieked. The enchanted steel rune-forged, expensive, designed to withstand combat magic—shattered.
Both blades fell apart simultaneously. The leader's eyes went wide.
Cinderfang continued its arc. It couldn't be slowed. It caught him across the chest. A shallow glance but the violet flames burned.
Not flesh. Something deeper.
The leader screamed. He leaped back clutching his chest where the blade had kissed him.
There was no blood or visible wound. But he gasped like a drowning man. Stamina draining. Willpower crumbling.
Spiritual damage. The anti-dragon properties work on anything with life force.
Auryn pressed forward.His body moved with certainty now. Muscle memory fully fledged. Switching Cinderfang between his hands to confuse his prey.
Another memory surfaced as he moved. He was in the training yard. Wooden blade in hand. Instructor circling.
"Footwork, Auryn. Flow like water. Strike like lightning."
Young Auryn—no, the original Auryn—nodding. Practicing. Again and again.
The memories weren't his. But the skills were. Auryn's blade work flowed. Each strike was purposeful and efficient.
The leader backpedaled. Throwing mid-sized balls of violet flames desperately.
"Flame Burst." The spell was wild and uncontrolled.
Auryn sidestepped. The flames splashed against a trees. Setting them ablaze.
Auryn eyes burned with hunger. He closed the distance and immediately thrusted at the leader's mid section.
The leader twisted. He barely dodged while flames erupted from his palms. Point-blank.
"Flame Shield." The defensive spell was accompanied by a violent colored magic circle that materialised under his feet.
Cinderfang pierced through it. Violet flames met violet flames. And the leader's magic shattered like glass.
The blade stopped inches from his throat.
The leader froze. Breathing hard. Sweat poured down his face.
"Impossible," he whispered. "That blade shouldn't exist. Legend said it was in the ruins. Guarded. How—"
"I took it." Auryn's voice was cold. Tired. "Any other questions?"
The leader's eyes darted. Looking for an escape. For any advantage.
He found none.
Behind Auryn, the fire wall collapsed. The flames dying down. Borin emerged.
Covered in blood, his breath heavy and his axe dripping a menacing red.
He stood like a miniature mountain. Bodies lay behind him. The assassins who'd been separated to his side.
All dead.
The dwarf's silver aura burned steady. Exhausted but unbroken.
"Need help, lad?"
"Almost done."
The leader's face twisted. Desperation. Fury.
"Do you think this changes anything? Vaedon will send more. Better. You can't—"
Auryn's eyes crossed and the blade shifted. He thrust clean and efficiently through the heart. A Rank 3 Veteran, ended by a Rank 2 Adept with a legendary blade.
Cinderfang's violet flames erupted. A cracking sound pierced the air. The leader convulsed once.
Then went still.
Auryn pulled the blade free. The body crumpled into Eternal silence.
---
Auryn stood over the corpse. Breathing hard. Cinderfang still burned in his hands. Violet flames licking hungrily at space.
His palms screamed for mercy. The pain had been manageable during combat. Adrenaline masking it.
Now it all crashed down. He looked at his hands. The bandages had burned away. Skin beneath was worse. Blistered, Blackened in places. Fresh blood seeping.
The cost of power.
He reached for Gates of Avarice mentally.
The golden portal opened beside him. Cinderfang slid through. Back into the void.
The flames vanished as the portal closed.
He felt immediate relief. His hands still stung like hell but the constant burning from the wielding the blade seized.
Borin approached. Limping slightly. A cut across his forehead bleeding into his beard.
"You alright, lad?"
"I'll live old friend." Auryn flexed his hands. Winced. "You?"
"Been worse." Borin looked around. Counted bodies. "Twelve. All down."
"Any runners?"
"Two tried. Didn't get far."
Auryn nodded. Walked to the nearest corpse. Checked the pockets. He found a self consuming dragon sigil. Vaedon's personal mark.
The kind designed to burn away after 24 hours, leaving no evidence.
He isn't even trying to hide it.
Was it Arrogance. Or confident I'd die to his scoundrels. Auryn shook his head.
He pocketed the sigil. Not that he needed it. But it could serve as evidence.
Borin moved among the bodies. Checking for survivors.
He found one. Chest rising shallowly. Dying but not dead. A deep cut on his back.
"This one's still breathing." He announced.
Auryn approached slowly. Red and gold eyes looked down. The assassin's eyes opened. They were bloodshot and filled with fear.
"Please—I was just hired—I didn't—"
"Who hired you?" Auryn's voice was flat.
"I don't—can't—"
"You can. You will."
The assassin's resolve crumbled. "They only called him L.C. he paid us to—to make it look like bandits—"
"How many more does he have?"
"I don't know. Dozens. Maybe—"
Coughing. Blood on his lips. "Please. I have family—"
Auryn stared down at him.
Mercy? Or pragmatism? Letting him live meant vaedon would immediately know he survived but also telling him how.
He pondered. Hands on his chin
Can't allow that.
Borin read his expression. Said nothing. Just watched.
Auryn's hand moved to his left. Borin understood him immediately. He handed him his Axe.
"I'm sorry." Auryn spoke in mercy.
The blade was quick and clean. Diagonally across his head.
The assassin's eyes went empty. His breath seized. Auryn handed the axe back to Borin.
Twelve dead. No witnesses.
Vaedon will know I survived. Won't know how.
Better this way.
He had to keep him guessing. That was the only way Vaedon could make mistakes even in the books.
Auryn and Borin sat on a log after turning off the growing fires. Just for a moment. They needed to catch their breath.
The fallen log was covered with moss. It squeaked every time either of them moved.
Auryn remained motionless. Every muscle in his body begging him to stop swinging a blade even for just a moment.
They stayed in comfortable silence.
Just the sound of wind through burned trees. Smoke drifting.
Then Borin laughed deeply. His voice coarse.
"What?" Auryn asked.
"You." Borin shook his head. "You fought well, lad. Really well."
"So did you. Four assassins."
"Aye. Still got it." Borin flexed his arm. Whilst wincing.
"Though I'll feel it tomorrow."
"Join the club." Auryn smirked.
They sat. Breathing, bleeding but alive.
Borin's expression softened. "You've grown, lad. Stronger."
Auryn looked at him. "You've said that before."
"Because it's true." Borin met his eyes. Silver aura steady. Loyal.
"Whatever happened out there—" He gestured vaguely toward the ruins, the capital, everything.
"—you came back different. Better."
If only you knew.
If only you knew I'm not really him.
But Auryn didn't say that. Couldn't.
Instead: he spoke.
"Had to change to survive."
"Aye. And you chose right." Borin's voice was warm. Proud. "I'm proud of you, lad."
Auryn's throat tightened.
This reminded him of Emilia. His sister. Earth. His mother. The family he'd lost.
Borin wasn't blood. But he was family. In the way that mattered.
"Thank you," Auryn said quietly. "For everything. For staying. For fighting."
"Just doing my job—keeping you alive."
"You do it well."
Borin grinned. Bloodstained teeth. "Someone has to. You're reckless."
"Misunderstood."
"Same thing when you're a prince everyone wants dead."
Auryn smiled despite everything. Despite the bodies. Despite the pain. Despite the blood on his hands. It was all for survival.
Home. We're going home.
—-
They both stood, trying to ignore the pain.
The horses had fled during the fighting. It took twenty minutes to find them. Calm them and mount.
Auryn's mare was nervous. Smelled a dragon and blood. But she accepted his weight. It started walking.
Borin rode beside him. Watching the surroundings closely.
The forest thinned. The roads opened ahead. Night had fallen fully now. Stars overhead as the moonlight bounced off his silver hair.
The castle finally appeared in the distance. Auryn's castle. His territory. Aurelia Province. Lights in windows. Guards on walls.
This was Home.
They approached the gates. Torches blazing. Guards recognize them instantly.
"OPEN THE GATES!"
"THE PRINCE RETURNS!"
The gates swung wide. Guards cheering. Word spreads fast.
Through the courtyard, Auryn glimpsed a figure in the castle doorway. Silver hair glowing. Waiting.
"He's back."
Auryn rode through, into the courtyard. He dismounted. Legs steadier than expected. Adrenaline still carrying him.
Servants rushed forward. Stable hands taking horses. Guards saluting.
"My lord—you're hurt—"
"I'm fine."
"Should we call the—"
"Later."
He walked. Toward the castle entrance. Stone steps. Carved doors.
Borin followed. His silent guardian.
The doors opened.
And there she stood.
Lyra Ignisar.
Silver hair loose around her shoulders. Amber eyes wide. Yellow aura flickering with emotion.
She'd been waiting. Watching for his return. She saw him now.
Bloody, dusty and exhausted. Bandaged hands black with soot.
His eyes—crimson and gold—meeting hers.
Her hand went to her mouth.
"Auryn—"
Then she ran.
Down the steps. Across the courtyard. Crashed into him. Arms around him. Holding tight.
He nearly fell. Caught himself. Caught her.
"You're back," she breathed. Face pressed against his chest. "You're back. I thought—when you didn't return yesterday—I thought—"
"I'm here." His voice was rough. Tired. "I'm here."
She pulled back. Looking at his face. His eyes. His hands.
"What happened? Where were you? You're hurt—"
"Long story." He managed a tired smile. The last time they spoke. He distanced himself and hurt her.
This was him making amends or atleast trying to.
"Come on." She took his arm. Careful of injuries. Led him toward the doors.
Borin followed. A silly grin on his face.
"Welcome home, lad."
Auryn looked back. At the courtyard. The guards. The castle.
Home.
Survived. Again.
But for how long?
He pushed the thought away.
Tonight, he was alive. He was home.
Tomorrow's battles could wait.