Blades & Lies

The ground shook violently as the ruined tower groaned under its own weight. Cracks spread like veins across the stone, pieces of debris tumbling down from the ceiling as the entire structure threatened to collapse.

Evelyn barely had time to react before Damien grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward.

"Move!" he barked, dragging her toward the nearest exit.

She didn't hesitate.

The walls were crumbling around them, the air thick with dust and falling debris. Every breath she took burned her lungs, but she kept moving, following Damien's lead as they dodged falling stone and splintering wood.

Then—a whistling sound.

Evelyn barely registered it before Damien stumbled forward with a sharp grunt.

She turned sharply just as he staggered, his hand clutching his shoulder.

Her stomach plummeted.

A black-fletched arrow jutted from his shoulder, buried deep beneath his armor.

Poison.

"No—" Her hands shot out to steady him as the tower groaned once more, the ceiling above them giving way.

Damien exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on her wrist. "We don't have time for this—keep going."

Evelyn clenched her jaw, ignoring the panic rising in her chest. She knew that arrow. She had seen that type of poison before.

And Damien was already starting to sway.

But he didn't stop moving. He pressed forward, teeth gritted, barely acknowledging the wound.

She knew what he was doing.

He was trying to hide it.

Evelyn's anger flared. "Don't you dare act like this is nothing," she snapped, pulling him faster.

"I'm fine," Damien muttered, but his steps were less steady.

He was lying.

They made it just in time.

The moment they burst from the collapsing tower, the entire structure caved in behind them. A deafening roar of stone and fire erupted as the ancient ruin was swallowed into the earth, sealing away whatever secrets it held.

Damien took a step forward—then staggered.

Evelyn caught him.

His breathing was unsteady, and sweat beaded across his forehead.

Her stomach twisted. "Damien, you're not fine."

He chuckled weakly. "I'm always fine."

His knees buckled.

She pulled his arm over her shoulder, steadying him. That's when she saw it.

The veins around the wound—darkening.

Her chest clenched. "Damien. The poison—"

He waved her off. "We'll deal with it later."

"We might not have a later, you idiot!"

His smirk was weak. "Then let's move fast."

Evelyn felt helpless.

Damien's weight against her was growing heavier. His breath was more labored.

And then—his body went limp.

Her heart stopped.

"Damien?!"

No response.

His breathing was shallow.

She pressed a hand against his cheek. His skin was too cold.

Her pulse thundered in her ears. They needed an antidote—fast.

And they were running out of time.

Damien's body was growing heavier against Evelyn's shoulder.

The moment they had escaped the collapsing tower, she had barely been able to keep him standing. His weight pressed into her, his breathing shallow, uneven.

His body was burning up.

Evelyn gritted her teeth, shifting his arm more securely over her shoulders. "Damien, stay awake. You hear me?"

Damien let out a weak chuckle. "You're really bossy when you're worried."

Her chest tightened.

His usual sarcasm was still there, but it was weaker. Forced.

And that terrified her more than anything.

She pressed forward, dragging him through the ruins, her mind racing. The poison was spreading fast—too fast.

If they didn't get an antidote soon…

She refused to finish that thought.

"Damien, how bad is it?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"On a scale of one to 'oh shit'?" He exhaled sharply. "We're hovering around… an eight. Maybe a nine."

"Damien."

"Okay, okay." He sighed. "It's… bad. But I've handled worse."

Liar.

His body was trembling against hers, his grip on his dagger loose, barely there.

They needed to get out of these ruins now.

Evelyn tightened her grip on him, pushing forward, her boots crunching against the rubble. She could still hear the faint echoes of battle behind them, the distant clashing of swords—soldiers still searching for them.

No. They couldn't afford to get caught now.

Then—Damien's legs buckled.

Evelyn barely managed to keep him from collapsing completely.

"Damien!"

His head lolled slightly, his silver eyes unfocused. His breathing was worse now, his skin unnaturally pale.

No. No, no, no

The ruins stood silent—a hollow echo of a forgotten era. The crumbling stone walls were draped in thick shadows, the only light coming from the embers of the fallen tower still smoldering behind them. The acrid scent of charred debris filled the air, mixing with the damp, ancient smell of decay.

Evelyn's breath was ragged, her body sore from escaping the collapse. But she couldn't stop. Not now.

Damien's weight was growing heavier against her shoulder. His skin was too hot, fever setting in faster than she had expected. His breathing, already shallow, had become irregular, his usual sharp wit dulled by the creeping venom in his bloodstream.

Yet, despite it all, his smirk remained.

"You're really… holding me close, huh?" Damien murmured, silver eyes barely open. "Didn't know you… cared this much, princess."

Evelyn bit the inside of her cheek, refusing to let him see how worried she was. "Shut up, Damien."

He exhaled a weak chuckle, head tilting slightly. "Ah, so cold."

She adjusted her grip, forcing him forward. "You're heavier than you look."

He made a sound between a chuckle and a groan. "That's muscle, Evelyn. You're just weak."

Her patience snapped. "You're dying, Damien. Maybe stop flirting for five seconds."

His smirk faltered just slightly, but it was still there. Because he was still trying to act like he was fine.

But he wasn't.

Evelyn saw it.

The sweat dripping down his temple. The way his fingers trembled, barely able to grip his dagger anymore. The veins around his shoulder had darkened, the poison slowly creeping through his system.

A shudder crawled down her spine.

This was bad. Really bad.

And then—a presence.

She felt it before she saw it.

A shadow shifted in the ruins ahead, stepping forward with slow, measured movements.

Her instincts flared. Evelyn drew her sword immediately, her body snapping into a defensive stance despite Damien leaning heavily against her.

The figure moved closer, stepping just within the dim glow of the flickering torchlight.

A face she hadn't seen in years emerged from the darkness.

Sharp amber eyes. A scar tracing down his jaw.

Ronan Vale.

Alistair's former right-hand strategist. A man long thought dead.

Her fingers curled tightly around the hilt of her sword. "You should be buried in a grave."

Ronan raised a brow, unimpressed. "And yet, here I stand." His gaze flickered to Damien, lingering on the black-fletched arrow wound. His expression darkened.

"You don't have time to hesitate, Evelyn." His voice was calm, but there was urgency in his tone. "The poison in his system isn't something you can treat on your own."

Evelyn's heart pounded.

She didn't trust Ronan. Not now. Not after everything.

But Damien—Damien was dying.

She swallowed her hesitation. "Where's the antidote?"

Ronan didn't hesitate. "I know where to find one. But we need to move. Now."

Evelyn's pulse roared in her ears. The air in the ruins felt too thick, too heavy.

She looked down at Damien. His eyes were half-lidded, unfocused.

Her choice was made.

Gritting her teeth, she adjusted her grip on Damien and nodded. "Lead the way."

Ronan turned, disappearing into the ruins.

Evelyn followed.

And all she could do was pray they weren't already too late.