The river kept flowing.
As if nothing had happened.
As if blood was just another memory it had learned to forget.
Lucian lowered his blade first.
Not in defeat.
Not in mercy.
But in certainty.
"You can't kill me," he said quietly. "Not yet."
My arms trembled. Not from exhaustion—but from the truth clawing its way through me.
Every instinct screamed to strike.
Every memory begged me to listen.
"You used me," I said. "You used my pain. My friends. Their deaths."
Lucian stepped closer, close enough that I could see the scar beneath his eye twitch.
"I hardened you," he replied. "The world would have broken you otherwise."
The words felt heavier than steel.
Melken.
Merlik.
Names carved into my soul like runes I could never erase.
"You call that salvation?" I whispered.
Lucian's eyes darkened. "I call it survival."
Silence fell between us, thick and suffocating.
Then… footsteps.
From the treeline.
Slow. Deliberate.
Lucian turned instantly, blade rising. I followed a heartbeat later.
Figures emerged from the shadows—armored, disciplined, bearing sigils I hadn't seen since childhood.
The Crown.
Kingdom soldiers.
Lucian cursed under his breath. "They're early."
"So this was your plan?" I snapped. "Lure them here?"
"No," he said sharply. "They were always coming. For you."
An arrow struck the ground between us.
A voice rang out, cold and commanding:
"Draven Ardent. By decree of the Crown, you are charged with treason, blood heresy, and the legacy of Liora Veyran."
My heart stopped.
Mother's name—spoken like a crime.
Lucian looked at me then, really looked at me.
"This is where your choice begins," he said. "Not as a knight. Not as a weapon."
He stepped back toward the shadows.
"But as my brother."
"Wait—" I started.
Too late.
Smoke erupted. Steel clashed. Chaos swallowed the riverbank.
I fought—not for the Academy, not for the Crown—but to escape.
Blades rang. Blood fell. Orders were screamed into the void.
And when the smoke cleared—
Lucian was gone.
Only one thing remained at my feet.
A black insignia burned into the earth.
The mark of the Masked Commander.
The Crown now knew my name.
My mother's truth had surfaced.
And my brother walked a path drenched in shadows.
I sheathed my sword with shaking hands.
The forge had made me strong.
The Academy had made me lethal.
But now…
The world had made me hunted.
And this time—
I would stop running