The alley lay in brittle silence. Shadows swayed over cracked cobblestones, interrupted only by the muffled sounds of distant bells and market laughter - a harsh contrast to the tension radiating through the group.
Ronan grunted as the knife at his throat pressed harder.
Unknown Man:
"Don't move."
Ronan : "Cassius."
Cassius held his hands just above his hips, voice steady.
Cassius:
"We're not your enemy. Let's not turn this into something ugly."
The leader kept his grip on Ronan, but his brow twitched with calculation.
Unknown Man:
"That depends on your answer."
Jorvan took a slow step forward, careful not to agitate the standoff.
Jorvan:
"What do you want from us?"
A smirk curled on the man's face.
Unknown Man:
"The weapons. And those robes you picked up at the market."
Cassius frowned.
Cassius:
"You're armed too. Why ours?"
Before the man could reply, a low voice rose from behind them - calm, sharp as obsidian. A woman stepped into the dim torchlight, her presence silencing the alley like a knife through silk.
Her eyes locked onto Cassius.
Unknown Woman:
"Because we need the best. To kill him."
Jorvan narrowed his eyes.
Jorvan:
"Kill who?"
She didn't blink.
Unknown Woman:
"The strongest guard of the Merchant King. Commander Naelus."
A hush fell. Jorvan's fingers twitched at the name.
Cassius turned to the others, then back to the woman.
Cassius:
"Then we have a common enemy."
The hostage-taker tensed.
Unknown Man:
"Wait-you're trying to get into the castle too?"
Varcen glanced around the alley, his instincts twitching.
Varcen:
"Not here. Too many eyes. Follow us. We have a safer place to talk."
A long pause. Then the man slowly released Ronan, pushing him forward. The woman gave a curt nod, and the group followed Cassius and the others through winding alleys and vine-choked stairways until they reached the abandoned shrine that had become their temporary camp.
Inside, old stone walls breathed with the scent of moss and burnt oil. Torches flickered as Ronan rejoined his group, rubbing his neck with a scowl.
Jorvan:
"Release him first."
Unknown Woman:
"He's free."
Cassius nodded. Everyone settled in - some on broken benches, others against crates and sacks of dried supplies.
Cassius:
"If we're going to work together, let's start with names."
She hesitated, then spoke.
Unknown Woman:
"I'm Lyra. That's Voric. We're from a village called Darnem's Reach, east of here."
Voric:
"A few months ago, the Merchant King visited us. Promised food and coins, if we sent people to help rebuild Veldrith."
Lyra's jaw clenched.
Lyra:
"But he lied. A man escaped, came back to us, bleeding, starving. Said the king was using them for... tests. That no one came back."
Cassius's breath hitched. Visions of the prisoners flickered in his mind - the gaunt faces, hollow eyes.
Cassius:
"The people in that underground prison... they were from your village?"
Lyra's eyes widened, leaning forward with a trembling voice.
Lyra:
"You've seen them? Was there... was there a boy? Twelve years old? Brown hair. Short. His name is Eren."
Voric added, his voice quieter now.
Voric:
"My younger brother. He left with the soldiers. Thought it was a job. We had no family left. Just us."
Elric:
"Then why didn't they take you too?"
Lyra lowered her gaze.
Lyra:
"I was in the forest. Searching for fruit. When I returned, he was gone."
She looked at Cassius.
Lyra:
"Did you see him? Did you see my brother?"
Cassius opened his mouth... then closed it.
He wanted to say no. To spare her. But his mind returned to the small mutant - the child - twisted, barely recognizable, hiding behind the pipes before the chamber caved in. His heartbeat slowed, knuckles tightening.
Cassius:
"...I... I saw someone."
Lyra leaned in, desperately.
Lyra:
"A child? Please. Tell me."
Cassius's voice dropped to a whisper.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Lyra dropped to her knees. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed into her hands, Kael moving behind her but unsure how to comfort her.
The fire crackled softly in the hearth. No one spoke. Cassius stared at the floor, guilt like iron on his chest.
Elric looked away. Jorvan's fingers twitched over a pouch, unsure what to do. Varcen exhaled through his nose, solemn and quiet.
In that moment, the alliance was forged not just from shared goals - but shared grief.
---
Night falls over the fractured city of Veldrith. Shadows stretch across the ruined alleyways, and within a dimly lit chamber of the makeshift hideout, two groups now sit together-no longer enemies, not yet allies.
A cracked lantern glows at the center of the camp's large table, throwing amber flickers across maps, blueprints, and hand-drawn sketches of the castle. Dust floats in the air like tiny ghosts. Varcen leans over the table, one gloved hand pressing down a weathered chart of the castle's perimeter. Opposite him sits the woman from the other group-her name now known to them: Lyra. Her jaw is clenched, eyes scanning each corridor line with the same fury that carried her this far.
Elric stands by the door, arms crossed. Jorvan crouches by a small crate, tinkering with a mechanical hinge, while Ronan nurses a bruise with a torn rag. The tension is no longer distrustful - its purpose, strained by urgency.
Jorvan (low tone, finger tracing the map):
"This is the outer wall. Guard rotation here shifts every four hours. Too tight to scale unnoticed, too visible to break through."
Lyra (sharply):
"Then we don't go over. We go under."
Jorvan (without looking up):
"Smugglers' tunnels only run beneath the trade quarter. The castle's foundation is sealed - no sewer routes either. He made sure of that."
Elric (coldly):
"Then we create our own route."
Ronan (groaning):
"Sure. Let me just grab a pickaxe and we'll dig through the stone before sunrise."
Cassius (quietly):
"We need to know how many entrances there are. Official ones, service routes, hidden ones... anything."
Lyra nods, unrolling a folded piece of paper. It's older, yellowed, hand-drawn.
Lyra:
"We got this from a merchant who worked in the inner circle. There's a side access here-along the western watchtower. Used for storage. Lightly guarded."
Varcen (leaning in):
"Storage entrance... You're sure it connects inside?"
Lyra:
"Past the archway, there's a staircase down. One of our scouts made it halfway before a turret fried him. But he saw guards carrying something... bodies, maybe."
Cassius (frowning):
"That's where they bring the prisoners."
Jorvan:
"We could use a merchant cart. Smuggle ourselves inside."
Elric:
"If they check it, we die."
Lyra (firm):
"Then we don't let them check it."
Cassius (thinking aloud):
"Two groups. One enters through the storage entrance. The other creates a distraction - enough noise to draw guards away from the lower levels."
Ronan:
"Distractions are my specialty. As long as it doesn't involve getting punched again."
Varcen:
"We'll need stolen armor, forged permits... and timing."
Lyra (glancing at Cassius):
"You think this is worth it?"
Cassius:
"If we can bring even one of them out of there alive... it's worth everything."
The lantern dims slightly as the oil runs low. Conversation slows. Plans are made. Watch shifts set. One by one, they drift toward their resting corners - all but two.
---
The night air is cold. The mist has rolled in again, curling between broken cobblestones and the skeletal remains of old merchant stalls. Cassius stands with his back to the wall, staring up at the vague silhouette of the castle above them. Footsteps crunch behind him.
Lyra (softly):
"Couldn't sleep?"
Cassius:
"Didn't try. What about you?"
Lyra:
"Every time I close my eyes, I see him, Eren. He was just a boy, and wanted to support me."
A pause. She steps beside him, crossing her arms.
Lyra (half-smiling):
"You carry too much for someone so young."
Cassius:
"Everyone keeps telling me that."
Lyra:
"They're not wrong."
A breeze drifts past, tugging lightly at Lyra's dark cloak.
Cassius (after a beat):
"You really believe we can pull this off?"
Lyra:
"No. But I'm going to try anyway. For him."
Cassius nods. The silence is not uncomfortable.
Lyra (quietly):
"What about you? Why are you doing this?"
Cassius (without looking at her):
"Because if I don't... I'm afraid of what I'll become."
Their eyes meet only briefly. She says nothing more. They both look away again, lost in separate thoughts - two shadows against the night.
---
Night blanketed the camp in stillness. Only the faint flicker of the oil lamp beside Cassius pulsed against the tent's fabric walls. He had barely spoken since the discussion earlier. His thoughts - and that woman's sobs - refused to fade.
He lay down, eyes open.
Then closed.
And the world began to shift.
---
The scent of iron vanished. Replaced by a breeze - warm, golden, almost holy.
Cassius stood on familiar soil. But it wasn't scorched or cracked like he remembered.
It was whole.
Ashenhold.
But not the Ashenhold he had known. This was... radiant.
The towers rose high into a sun-washed sky. Banners flew boldly from golden spires, stitched with the Phoenix and Chains. The walls were polished marble, etched with golden veins. The courtyard bustled faintly in the distance - merchants, laughter, clinking of armor - the signs of peace.
Cassius walked forward slowly, heart pounding. His boots made no sound.
The gates of the throne hall stood open for him.
Inside, the room was vast. Pillars arched into a high dome painted in celestial murals - stars and sigils he didn't recognize. At the end, atop a narrow staircase of black stone, sat a throne. And on it, a man - old, regal, still.
The King of Ashenhold.
The man's beard was silver, robes embroidered with timeworn Catalyst patterns. His eyes, even from afar, carried the weight of decades - perhaps centuries.
Cassius stepped forward. He felt the cold air shift. A tension, subtle but growing.
Halfway to the throne, the world shuddered.
The golden hues fractured.
The light dimmed.
Cassius halted.
The murals above him melted into clouds of ash. The wind vanished. Heat struck his skin.
Suddenly - he wasn't in the hall.
He stood on a battlefield.
The world stretched into chaos - torn banners, broken walls, fire spiraling into the sky.
Ashenhold again. But burning. Dying.
And before him: soldiers in ornate armor fought desperately against massive machines. Hulking constructs - too familiar - stalked through the field, unleashing fire and steel.
Cassius turned, horror rising in his chest.
There - the throne still stood behind him.
But the old king...
was slumped.
His body lay lifeless in the seat of power. Blood trailed from his mouth, pooling at his feet.
Cassius gasped and stumbled backward, falling to one knee.
Then - a presence.
From behind.
He froze.
He turned.
A figure stood in the smoke. Not a soldier. Not a machine.
Human? Maybe.
Shrouded in dark, tattered robes. Eyes unseen. Yet the air around them crackled, distorted, as if gravity bowed in reverence. The figure took a step forward-
And Cassius awoke.
His body lurched upward. Chest heaving. Sweat clinging to his brow.
He looked around.
Just his bedroll.
Just the low flicker of dying flames.
He placed a hand on his face, trying to slow his breath. Trying to remember...
Who was it? That presence... the battlefield... the throne...
He pressed his forehead to his palm, swallowing hard.
Dawn had begun to break - a pale light brushing against the canvas of the tent.
---
The night's weight still lingered on Cassius's chest. The vision clawed at the edges of his mind - the glowing castle, the golden walls, the bloodied throne. And that approaching figure he never saw.
He sat up, breath fogging in the cold morning air.
Cassius (to himself, quiet):
"That was no dream..."
---
The sun rose reluctantly behind the broken hills, spilling pale light over the outskirts of the kingdom. At a clearing near the ruins, Cassius stood alone, sword drawn.
Each swing was sharp. Focused. But there was no elegance - only frustration.
He struck a dead tree, bark chipping with every blow. His arms trembled, not from weakness - but from the storm inside.
Cassius (breathing hard):
"What am I supposed to do...?"
Footsteps approached from behind. Varcen stopped a short distance away, arms folded.
Varcen:
"You fight like someone chasing answers. But answers don't come from broken trees."
Cassius (still swinging):
"Then where do they come from?"
Varcen (after a pause):
"From what you protect - not what you destroy."
---
Later in the day, the group gathered around the map etched in dirt. Elric, Lyra, and Voric knelt around it as Varcen spoke.
Jorvan:
"We strike tonight. Swift, clean. Get in - kill Naelus- and vanish before they know we were ever there."
Elric:
"The outer walls are still patrolled. We'll need a proper reason to get past them."
Lyra:
"We make one."
---
Meanwhile...
Farther out near the ridge, two kingdom guards on routine patrol spotted distant smoke.
Guard 1:
"That shouldn't be there. You see that?"
Guard 2:
"Campfire. And not one of ours."
They drew weapons and moved toward it - cutting through brush and following the low flicker of flames.
As they neared the edge of the overhang, something moved.
A whisper of leather. A shadow crossed between trees.
Guard 1:
"Wait. Did you-"
Too late.
Lyra dropped from above, striking one in the side of the head with a blunt end of her dagger. Voric lunged from the shadows, wrapping an arm around the other's throat and silencing him before he could shout.
The guards collapsed.
Voric (dragging a body):
"Still breathing."
Lyra (checking pouches):
"Good. Uniforms are intact. These'll get us past the wall."
They dragged the unconscious men into a hollow beneath an old ruin. Out of sight. Stripped of armor and weaponry.
Lyra (as she fastens a belt):
"Let's hope they stay quiet long enough."
---
Night fell like ink over parchment.
The group moved through the city's edge dressed in stolen guard gear and servant garb, slipping from shadow to shadow. Torches burned low on the watchtowers. Castle Veldrith loomed in the distance - cold, vast, and watching.
Cassius stood at the rear of the formation, cloak tight, eyes fixed ahead.
No turning back.
Cassius (inner monologue):
" I don't know what I'll find in that place. But I'll walk into its heart if I must."
The plan was in motion.
---
The sky was suffocatingly still.
Clouds hovered low over the crumbling peaks of Veldrith, smothering the stars. The moon - pale and watchful - hung behind a sheer veil of mist, casting only a faint glow over the ruined city below.
Beyond the outer ring of ancient spires, near the ragged edge of the southern wall, shadows stirred.
Ronan crouched low in the grass, one gloved hand pressed to the earth. His breath was steady, eyes scanning the path ahead.
Ronan(whispering): "Guards - two, changing shifts."
Lyra leaned in beside him, nodding once.
Lyra: "Then now."
She darted forward, boots barely brushing the stone.
Voric followed close, keeping to the side, cloak blending into the dark. The three weaved through collapsed structures and broken carts until they reached a sunken courtyard.
Torchlight flickered just beyond the gate - two sentries, speaking quietly, halberds resting lazily against their shoulders.
A stone flew. Clinked against a broken shield beside them.
Guard 1 : "Huh?"
Guard 1(to Guard 2) : "Go check it."
The guard stepped forward.
The shadows behind him unfolded.
Lyra's dagger whispered against his throat. No sound. No struggle.
Voric struck the second - a precise blow to the temple. The man dropped without a cry.
Ronan moved in, catching the falling halberd before it clattered. He lowered the body gently.
They worked quickly. In moments, the uniforms were stripped. Blood wiped. Faces obscured with Veldrith insignia.
Ronan gave a sharp two-tone whistle.
The others emerged from the shadows behind.
---
Cassius moved with measured breath, the weight of the relic against his chest steadying him.
Elric took the lead - silent, swift. His steps avoided every loose tile and water-slicked stone. Jorvan flanked left, crossbow slung low, scanning for corners. Varcen followed with practiced ease, hand on the hilt of his sword.
The gate opened with a creak. Just enough.
They slipped inside.
The inner courtyard was barely illuminated. Banners hung in tatters. Veldrith's sigil - a serpent coiled around a sword - flapped in the breeze like torn parchment. Moss clung to the columns, and the scent of damp iron filled the air.
Cassius scanned the courtyard.
Ruins. Statues broken at the waist. A fountain, dry for decades. Time had not been kind to the castle of war.
Jorvan(whispering) : "Through the scribe's annex,"
pointing to a low passage half-swallowed by a fallen pillar.
They moved quickly.
---
Inside, the castle groaned.
Wind pushed through the shattered glass windows above, whistling like a ghost in the rafters. The group passed through narrow halls, once glorious - now marred by fire and time. Walls were etched with faded carvings: battles, victories, royal decrees, now too scarred to read.
Cassius paused at a cracked mural.
He could barely make out the faces. One wore a crown. Another... bore something around his neck.
Like the relic.
Elric : "Cassius, keep moving."
He did.
---
They reached a narrow spiral stair, half collapsed. Rubble cluttered the bottom, but the top opened into the old strategy chambers. From there - straight into the war halls.
They climbed in silence. Stones shifted underfoot. Twice, they paused as patrols passed below.
Near the top, Cassius heard it - laughter.
Ronan's voice.
Disguised, uniformed, bantering with another guard.
It bought them time.
Elric raised two fingers.
"Split."
He pointed left - an old storeroom.
Cassius nodded. They slipped through a broken arch.
Inside, dust danced in shafts of moonlight filtering through cracked ceiling tiles. Books lay scattered. Shelves broken. Maps torn and curling with mold.
Jorvan pulled open a hidden panel behind a loose bookcase.
Jorvan : "The old vent"
Cassius hesitated.
Claustrophobic. Dark.
But necessary.
---
The crawlspace was tight - barely wide enough for a man. Metal grated beneath their knees. Every sound felt louder in the confined dark.
Cassius moved last, the relic's faint pulse warming his skin.
He couldn't shake the feeling they were being watched.
Then-light.
Jorvan lifted the final grate with slow hands. Below them lay the war chamber.
The group dropped in, one by one, landing in silence.
The air was still. Too still.
Cassius straightened, scanning the circular chamber.
Stone pillars loomed overhead. Weapons lined the walls - spears, warhammers, blades rusted with time. Torches burned low on each column, casting long, bent shadows across the scarred floor.
And at the center...
He sat.
A throne of blackened stone. Behind him, a broken stained-glass window spilled fractured moonlight across the floor.
The man wore layered armor, blood-red threading through black plates like veins. His face was clean-shaven, jaw sharp. Silver streaks ran through his short hair. His eyes - cold, yellow - watched them calmly.
Commander Naelus.
His gauntlets rested beside him. His posture was relaxed, almost bored.
As if he'd been waiting.
Cassius froze.
His heart pounded in his chest.
Elric's expression hardened. His hand moved slowly to his sword.
Varcen muttered under his breath.
Varcen : "By the old fires... he knew."
Jorvan aimed - but didn't shoot.
Cassius took a slow step forward.
The Commander raised a brow. His fingers tapped the armrest, rhythmic.
Naelus : "Quite the number of people tried this."
He said. His voice is deep, deliberate. Naelus : "You're just the latest."
He leaned forward.
Naelus : "Let's see if you're the last."
***************************************