The candlelight in Avar's shack flickered like a dying ember, casting thin shadows across the cracked walls. The air was thick with the scent of rot and smoke, the stench of unwashed bodies drifting in from the slums outside. Avar's mother lay weakly on the straw bed, her breathing shallow, every inhale a battle. Magnus Caldryn sat beside her, elbows on his knees, crimson eyes gleaming faintly in the dark.
"Tell me everything," he said, his tone calm but edged with steel.
The woman hesitated, eyes darting toward her son, then back to Magnus. "You're strangers… outsiders. If the wrong ears hear my words, we'll both be dead before sunrise."
Rhea stepped forward, her presence cold and quiet. "If that happens," she said softly, "it'll be the wrong ears bleeding, not yours."
The woman stared at them for a long moment, reading something in their faces not pity, not greed, but conviction. Finally, she spoke. "It started years ago, when Hardard the Fury took control of the undercity. The nobles let him do it. They said it kept the poor in check that as long as fear ruled the slums, the streets above would stay peaceful. He burned the old guard, slaughtered anyone who spoke out. Now, every coin that passes through these alleys finds its way back to his hands."
Magnus's jaw tightened. "And the palace knows."
"The palace profits," she whispered bitterly. "Every merchant pays a tax to the Crown… and another to Hardard's network. Some say the prince himself Ethan, keeps him in power."
Magnus leaned back, eyes narrowing. "So, Hardard's not just some criminal. He's the kingdom's shadow."
Rhea folded her arms, her grey eyes flicking to the window where the faint glow of torches danced. "Then Valisar's golden streets are built on corpses."
The woman coughed violently, clutching her chest. Avar rushed to her side, panic flashing in his small face. Magnus reached into his pouch, pulling a small vial of liquid a low-grade healing tonic from their travels. He uncorked it and handed it to Avar. "Make her drink this. Slowly."
Avar nodded, his small hands trembling as he helped his mother sip the potion. Her breathing eased slightly, the tightness in her chest softening. She looked at Magnus again, her voice faint. "You're not from here… are you?"
"No," Magnus said quietly. "But I've seen men like Hardard before. And I've killed them."
Outside, a shout broke the silence rough voices echoing down the alley. Rhea moved instantly, her assassin's reflexes kicking in. She pressed her back to the wall, hand on her dagger. "Magnus," she murmured, "we've got company."
Magnus rose, his shadow aura flickering faintly — the air around him growing colder. "Avar, stay with your mother."
The door rattled as heavy boots thudded outside. A gruff voice barked, "This is Gilded Ledger territory! Open up!"
Rhea glanced at Magnus. "They must've tracked us from the market."
Magnus's lips curved into a dark smile. "Then they came to die."
He flung the door open. Five men stood outside, their faces half-hidden by masks of black cloth, steel blades glinting in the moonlight. The leader, a tall brute with a scar across his chin, sneered. "You're far from your place, stranger. Hand over the boy and whatever coin you've got, and maybe I'll let you crawl away."
Magnus didn't answer. Shadows rippled at his feet, coiling like serpents. The men hesitated, fear flickering in their eyes as his crimson gaze met theirs.
Rhea's voice cut through the tension, soft and lethal. "Last chance to walk away."
The brute spat. "Kill them."
They rushed forward and the alley erupted into chaos.
Magnus moved like a phantom, his twin shadow sabers whispering through the air. The first man lunged, and Magnus's blade sliced through his throat, a clean, silent kill. He pivoted, shadows trailing his movements, each strike faster than the eye could follow. Blood sprayed against the walls, dark and glistening under the torchlight.
Rhea danced between the attackers, her Poison Fang aura blooming faintly around her daggers a toxic mist that shimmered green. One man caught a shallow cut on his arm; within seconds, his veins turned black as the poison burned through him.
Magnus met the brute's blade head-on. Steel clashed with a deafening ring, sparks flying. The man grunted, forcing Magnus back with sheer strength but Magnus's expression didn't change. Instead, the shadows at his feet flared outward, wrapping around the brute's legs like living chains.
"What—what is this?!" the man choked, struggling.
Magnus stepped forward, eyes glowing crimson. "Judgment."
The shadows constricted, crushing bone and flesh in a single pulse. The man screamed once before his body fell limp, the aura fading from Magnus's blades.
Silence reclaimed the alley, broken only by the drip of blood from the sabers. Rhea wiped her daggers clean on a fallen cloak. "You went easy on them," she said dryly.
Magnus sheathed his sabers. "They weren't worth the effort."
Inside, Avar peeked out, wide-eyed. Magnus turned to him, expression softening slightly. "They won't bother you again."
Avar's mother looked at the corpses, horror and awe mingling in her gaze. "You'll bring the fury of the prince upon yourself," she whispered. "You don't know what Valisar does to those who fight back."
Magnus's crimson eyes burned brighter. "Then Valisar will learn what it means to be hunted."
Later that night, the city's upper ring glittered under the moonlight. In the royal palace, Prince Ethan stood by the grand window of his chamber, looking down upon the sprawling capital. From this height, the filth and blood of the undercity were invisible the lights of the nobles' estates masking the darkness below.
A knight in silver armor knelt behind him. "Your Highness," he said, voice strained. "There's been a disturbance in the lower quarter. A patrol of the Gilded Ledger was wiped out."
Ethan's gaze didn't move from the horizon. "And who was responsible?"
"We don't know yet, my prince. Witnesses spoke of a man with crimson eyes and… shadows that moved on their own."
At that, Ethan turned slightly, his lips curving into an intrigued smile. "Crimson eyes?" He stepped closer to the window, moonlight glinting off his dark hair and sharp features. "So… Magnus Caldryn finally shows himself."
The knight hesitated. "Should we send the Black Guard to hunt him down?"
Ethan raised a hand. "No. Let him wander for now. A lion caged too soon forgets how to roar. I want to see what he does next how far his anger will take him."
He turned fully, eyes reflecting the moonlight, calm and calculating. "But keep an eye on him. If he draws too much blood… then we'll release Hardard."
The knight bowed and retreated, leaving Ethan alone. The prince gazed once more at the glittering city, his voice a soft murmur. "The game begins, Magnus Caldryn. Let's see whose shadow burns brighter."
Back in the slums, Magnus and Rhea stood outside Avar's shack, the faint glow of dawn beginning to bleed into the horizon. The sounds of morning merchants rose again the illusion of normalcy returning as if the night's violence had never happened.
Rhea looked at Magnus, her tone quiet. "You heard the woman. Hardard's been running this place for years. And if he's working under royal approval…"
Magnus's gaze stayed fixed on the city skyline. "Then we burn both the beast and its throne."
He looked down at his hand, where a faint wisp of shadow qi curled around his fingers, pulsing with restrained fury. "This kingdom feeds on the blood of the weak. I'll cut off its fangs."
Rhea smiled faintly, deadly and loyal. "Then we start with Hardard."
Magnus nodded. "No… we start with the truth." His crimson eyes glinted in the growing light. "And when I find it Valisar will tremble."
The first rays of morning sun touched the rooftops, illuminating the city's golden towers and the filth beneath them.
For now, the lion walked in shadow. But soon, Valisar would know his roar.
To be continued in the chapter 20....