The city of Valenport pretended to sleep, but I knew better. Shadows pooled in alleys like spilled ink, curling around corners with secrets and dangers of their own. I moved through them, hood low, boots whispering over damp stone. The "three nights" warning burned in my vision, a relentless echo—but another thread tugged at my senses, faint and alive.
I paused at the corner of a ruined building. The air shimmered, heat rising off the cobblestones—or maybe it wasn't heat at all. A voice broke the silence, soft but impossible to ignore.
"Kael…"
I spun, hand on my sword. "Mira?" The name slipped out before I could stop it.
From the shadows emerged a figure I hadn't dared hope to see. Hair as dark as the moonless sky, eyes sharp and wary, but alive. Strong. Dangerous. Mira. My chest tightened.
"I… I had to survive," she whispered, taking a cautious step forward. "The Council… they knew who I was. They experimented. I trained, learned to fight with what they left behind. I couldn't stay hidden—I had to find you."
Ryn's hand brushed my shoulder. She'd been there from the beginning, unwavering, her loyalty a steady flame through every storm. Mira's return didn't unsettle her. If anything, it made the circle whole again.
"I never doubted you'd come back," Ryn said quietly, eyes scanning the rooftops. "But we need to move."
Memories slammed into me—our first fights together, blood shared, strategy honed in fires of past battles. This wasn't our first fight. It never had been.
Mira's presence was a new variable, but not a threat. She'd learned. She was ready.
Shadows shifted unnaturally, and my Soul Resonance flared—a warning. "Not safe here," I muttered. "Someone's watching."
Mira's hands glowed faintly, sigils flickering across her skin. We moved as one, instincts honed over decades. Sparks flew as the first inhuman figure lunged. Mira's magic sliced through its defenses; I met it head-on, steel clashing against something inhuman.
One of them—the largest—threw itself at Mira. Time slowed. I threw myself forward, intercepting the blow. Pain flared, white-hot, but Mira's energy surged behind me, throwing the attacker across the alley.
"We fight better together," I said, chest burning, muscles screaming, eyes locking on the next wave of shadowed figures. Ryn moved beside us, her daggers a blur, cutting down foes as though they were nothing more than obstacles in a practiced drill. Mira's precision and the rest of the clan's support made the alley a symphony of coordinated carnage.
Loran's roar echoed from the rooftops, a war cry we'd all learned to follow. Mira flanked a smaller creature, her sigils flaring brighter than before. Ryn slashed through the next, eyes never leaving mine. The rest of the clan—Mira, Ryn, Loran, and the others—moved like extensions of my own body.
Each kill fed a cold, burning focus in my chest. The city's heartbeat seemed to sync with mine, fast and raw, a drum of war. We had survived worse, fought harder. Tonight was no different—except Mira's return shifted something inside me. Rage, relief, hope. Fuel for a hunter who refused to die twice.
The largest shadow recovered and lunged again, faster than expected. Mira reacted first, throwing a bolt of energy that slammed into its chest, staggering it—but I was already moving, blade ready. With a single strike, we brought it down.
I exhaled, just a fraction, and Mira let her arms drop for a second, catching her breath. "I thought I'd lost you again," she said, half-laughing, half-scolding. Tears glinted in her eyes.
"You're here," I said, voice raw. "That's what matters."
Ryn's smirk was brief but approving. "We're not done," she reminded me, voice sharp, eyes scanning the alley. "We finish this, together."
We pushed forward, moving through twisting streets and darkened alleys, the shadows around us still restless. Each of us watched the other's back without a word, our coordination a language of its own. The clan—our clan—was whole again. Loran took point, flanking us, his strength a hammer against whatever dared challenge us. Mira and Ryn's combined agility kept the sides clear.
A new figure emerged—a Council assassin, trained, lethal. We'd seen them before, but never this precise. I adjusted my stance. "All of you—together," I called.
The fight was a blur of steel, magic, and instinct. Mira's sigils met my Soul Resonance in a perfect counterbalance, Ryn's daggers flashing between shadows, Loran smashing through defenses, the others circling to support. Every move was calculated, every strike reinforcing the others.
And still, Mira had earned her place—not just returning, but proving she belonged here, in the fire, with us. "I waited," she said between breaths, "for the right moment. For you. For all of us."
I nodded once, hard. "Then we end this."
The moonlight cut through the alley as we moved as one. Shadows lunged, clawed, and hissed—but nothing broke our formation. Every strike, every spell, every motion was the culmination of every battle we'd survived together.
By the time we reached the open square, sweat and blood streaking our faces, the city felt different. Alive. Dangerous, yes—but ours to face. We had Mira back. Ryn was steady at my side, unwavering as always. Loran's presence was a wall of strength, the rest of the clan moving in perfect synchronization.
We paused, chest heaving, eyes sweeping the cityscape. Valenport slept—or pretended to—but we were awake, awake and ready.
"Together," Mira whispered again, and I felt it—not just a promise, but a bond reforged in blood and fire.
"Together," I echoed, voice low and steady. Rage, relief, hope burning in me. The hunter, the survivor, and the clan—whole, unbroken, and ready for whatever the city would throw at us next.
The night was alive. So were we.
And this time, no one would take us apart.