Russ's boots pounded against the rain-slicked cobblestones, every step echoing like a drumbeat of war. Lightning flashed overhead, throwing jagged shadows across the narrow alley as he tightened his grip on the short sword. The storm was a curse and a blessing—it blinded their pursuers, but it also drowned out Mira's voice behind him.
"Russ! To your left!" she shouted, but the thunder swallowed half her warning.
He pivoted just in time to see the glint of a spear lunging from the darkness. The weapon scraped across his chest plate with a teeth-grating screech, and Russ slammed his shoulder forward, ramming the attacker into the wall. The man crumpled, groaning.
But there was no time to breathe. More boots thundered behind them.
Mira darted past him, her twin daggers flashing under the lightning. She moved like the rain itself—fast, unpredictable, deadly. She sidestepped a sword slash, caught the attacker's wrist, and buried a dagger into his side with ruthless precision. Her other blade came up, deflecting an incoming blow aimed for Russ.
"Go!" she barked.
Russ didn't argue. They tore through the maze-like streets, their breath ragged, the air thick with the metallic stench of blood. The glow of torches flickered ahead—too many to count.
"They've blocked the main road!" Mira hissed.
Russ scanned their surroundings. The only escape was up. "Climb."
Mira shot him a quick, knowing grin. "About time you thought like me."
They scrambled up the rain-slick walls, using loose bricks and old shutters as handholds. Arrows whistled past, one grazing Mira's arm. She hissed in pain but didn't falter. Reaching the rooftop, they rolled over the edge just as the alley below filled with shouting soldiers.
From this vantage, the city looked like a battlefield. Firelight and lightning painted the streets in gold and silver, revealing chaos—men clashing steel, barricades burning, civilians fleeing.
"Russ," Mira said between breaths, "they're not just after us. This is a purge."
Before he could respond, the rooftop beneath them shuddered. A hulking figure vaulted up from the street, landing with enough force to crack the tiles. His armor was blackened steel, his greatsword as tall as Mira.
"Run," Russ said, though they both knew there was no outrunning him.
The man swung, the blade whistling through the rain. Russ ducked low, the tip of the sword slicing a lock of his hair. Mira dashed to the side, attacking from the flank, but her dagger struck only sparks against his armor.
The giant kicked her away like she weighed nothing. She tumbled across the rooftop, dangerously close to the edge.
Russ roared, swinging his short sword in a brutal arc. The steel bit into the giant's thigh—not deep enough to cripple, but enough to slow him.
The enemy turned on Russ with a snarl, bringing the greatsword down in a killing blow. Russ caught it on his blade, his arms screaming from the force. Mira was already back on her feet, blood running down her cheek.
"Russ! Drop!"
He obeyed instantly. Mira hurled one of her daggers—not at the giant's chest, but at the gas lamp mounted on a nearby post. The glass shattered, flames licking hungrily across the wet roof as oil spilled.
The giant hesitated, stepping back from the sudden burst of fire. That was all they needed. Russ surged forward, tackling him toward the flames. The man roared, swinging wildly, but Mira darted in, burying her remaining dagger into the gap under his arm.
The giant collapsed, his greatsword clattering across the roof.
Rain hissed against the spreading fire. Russ grabbed Mira's hand, pulling her toward the next building.
"We're not done yet," she said breathlessly, eyes burning with the same fire that consumed the rooftop.
"No," Russ agreed. "We're just getting started."