Blades & Lies

The ruins stretched before them like a decaying labyrinth, jagged stone and shattered pillars casting eerie shadows in the dim torchlight. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something far more unsettling—the metallic tang of blood lingering in the dust.

Evelyn barely noticed any of it.

All she could focus on was Damien's weight against her shoulder, his body burning with fever. His breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, each one a painful reminder of how little time they had left.

She tightened her grip on him, her fingers digging into the fabric of his coat. "Don't you dare pass out on me, Damien."

A weak chuckle rumbled from his throat. "No promises… but I think I'm getting good at this whole 'damsel in distress' thing."

Evelyn would have shoved him if he weren't half-dead. Instead, she turned her glare to Ronan, who led the way through the crumbling ruins, moving like he knew every step by heart.

"How much farther?" she demanded, her voice sharper than she intended.

Ronan didn't slow his pace. "Not far. The antidote is stored in a hidden vault beneath the main chamber. If we can get there before—"

A low growl rumbled through the cavern.

Evelyn froze.

Damien's grip on her sleeve tightened. "Tell me that was just the wind."

It wasn't.

From the shadows ahead, a figure emerged—armor-clad, his presence radiating lethal intent. A knight of Velthorne. And he wasn't alone. More figures stepped into the torchlight, blades drawn, surrounding them.

Ronan cursed under his breath. "They must have tracked us here."

Evelyn gritted her teeth. They didn't have time for this. Damien barely had minutes left.

The lead knight took a step forward, sword gleaming. "You're trespassing on sacred ground. Surrender, and I might be merciful."

Evelyn drew her blade. "I don't have time for mercy."

Then, they attacked.

The first soldier lunged—Evelyn sidestepped effortlessly, her blade cutting across his chest before he even had time to react. Another came at her from behind—she spun, blocking the strike, twisting her sword in a deadly arc.

Ronan fought beside her, swift and precise, striking weak points with an efficiency that betrayed his years of experience.

And Damien—

Damien staggered but still lifted his dagger, catching an enemy off guard and sinking the blade into his side. But he was too slow, his movements sluggish from the poison.

Evelyn saw it too late.

A second knight charged Damien's exposed side, blade raised for a fatal blow—

Evelyn moved without thinking.

Her sword clashed against the enemy's, her strength barely holding back the strike. Her muscles burned with effort, but she refused to let him fall.

Damien let out a ragged laugh. "Protecting me now? How the tables have turned."

"Shut up and stay alive."

She kicked the knight back, blade flashing. Another enemy lunged—she turned, her sword cutting through armor, blood splattering against the stone.

But there were too many.

The knights were well-trained, coordinated, and relentless. Evelyn's breath came in short, sharp bursts as she parried a strike, barely dodging another.

Ronan's blade flashed through the chaos, cutting down an opponent before spinning to block another. "We need to move!"

Evelyn clenched her jaw, searching for an opening. They couldn't hold out forever. Not like this.

Then, a shift in the shadows.

Something moved above them.

Evelyn barely had time to register it before the ceiling cracked, stone crumbling. A massive figure dropped from the darkness—a cloaked figure wielding twin daggers, landing directly behind the enemy forces.

The knights barely had time to react before the newcomer moved.

One dagger flashed—a throat slit open in silence. Another twisted, finding a weak point in armor, piercing clean through.

Within moments, three knights lay dead.

The remaining enemies hesitated.

Evelyn's breath caught as the newcomer lifted his head, revealing dark crimson eyes beneath his hood.

"Looks like I got here just in time," he murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Evelyn barely suppressed her shock. Who the hell was he?

Damien, despite his failing strength, managed a smirk. "Took you long enough."

The stranger's gaze flicked toward him, unimpressed. "You look like hell."

Damien coughed, his grip tightening on Evelyn's sleeve. "Feel like it too."

The knights, recovering from their shock, prepared to strike again.

The stranger exhaled. "I'll hold them off. You two—get to that vault."

Evelyn hesitated. "And why should I trust you?"

A wicked grin. "Because if I wanted you dead, you'd already be."

Then, without another word, he launched himself into the fray.

Evelyn gritted her teeth but didn't argue. They didn't have time.

Grabbing Damien tighter, she followed Ronan deeper into the ruins.

Evelyn's heart pounded as she dragged Damien deeper into the ruins, Ronan leading the way with swift, precise movements. Behind them, the sounds of battle echoed—the clash of steel, the sharp grunts of pain, and the unmistakable roar of their mysterious ally cutting through enemy ranks.

"Who the hell was that?" Evelyn muttered under her breath, barely keeping her balance as they maneuvered through the uneven terrain.

Ronan didn't even look back. "A problem for later. Focus on keeping him alive."

Damien let out a weak chuckle, barely managing to keep his footing. "You guys... sound so worried. It's cute."

Evelyn gritted her teeth. "You're literally dying, Damien. Maybe save the jokes for later?"

"Ah, but what if I don't get a later?" His smirk was still there, but his grip on her sleeve tightened, betraying the pain coursing through him.

Her stomach twisted.

Ronan suddenly halted, raising a hand for silence. Evelyn's muscles tensed, her grip on her sword firm.

A second later, she heard it.

Footsteps. Fast, heavy, relentless.

"The rest of them are coming," Ronan muttered, scanning the dark corridors ahead. "We need to move faster."

"How much farther?" Evelyn asked, her voice sharp.

"Another chamber down."

Damien made a low sound of discomfort, and Evelyn glanced at him, her concern growing. His skin was pale, clammy, his breaths shorter.

She clenched her jaw. They were running out of time.

Then—shouts from behind.

The knights had caught up.

"Run," Ronan ordered, already surging forward.

Evelyn didn't argue.

With everything she had left, she pulled Damien along, ignoring the exhaustion burning in her muscles, the sting of her wounds. They barreled through the corridor, the knights' voices growing louder, the sound of armored boots slamming against stone as they closed in.

A sharp whistle cut through the air.

Ronan cursed. "Arrows!"

Evelyn barely had time to react before an arrow whizzed past her head, embedding itself in the stone wall beside her. She ducked, pulling Damien lower as another shot missed them by inches.

They couldn't keep running like this.

She skidded to a stop at a fork in the corridor. "Which way?!"

Ronan hesitated—a split second too long.

A knight lunged from the shadows, blade gleaming.

Evelyn turned just in time, blocking the strike, but the force sent her stumbling back.

The knight pressed forward, slashing furiously. Evelyn gritted her teeth, barely keeping up as she parried, sidestepped, and countered.

Another arrow sailed past, grazing her arm. Dammit.

She risked a glance—two more knights were closing in.

They were trapped.

Damien's breathing hitched, his body growing heavier against her. She could feel it—he was slipping.

She had to end this. Now.

Summoning the last of her strength, Evelyn dodged a killing blow, pivoted, and drove her sword straight through the knight's armor.

He choked on a breath before crumpling to the ground.

Ronan had taken out one of the others, but the third knight lunged at Damien.

Evelyn barely had time to react—

But Damien did.

With what little strength he had left, he threw his dagger, the blade finding its mark—straight through the knight's throat.

The enemy collapsed.

Damien let out a ragged breath, then slumped against Evelyn.

Her pulse roared in her ears. "Damien—"

"We have to keep moving," Ronan snapped.

She bit back her panic and pressed forward.

They burst into the next chamber—the vault.

The antidote was within reach.

But so were the enemy's reinforcements.

A row of armored figures emerged from the shadows ahead, their eyes gleaming with predatory focus. They weren't just regular soldiers—their insignias marked them as Velthorne's elite enforcers. These were killers trained in assassination and subterfuge.

Evelyn's grip tightened on her sword. They wouldn't be able to just fight their way through this.

Ronan let out a sharp breath. "We need another way."

Evelyn scanned the room quickly. Stone pillars lined the chamber, and at the far end, an altar stood beneath a massive archway, where a pedestal rested in the center. That had to be where the antidote was.

But there were too many enemies in between.

"We don't have time for this," she muttered, sweat beading at her brow.

Damien let out a low laugh, his weight slumping harder against her. "Then let's… make some."

And with that, he tossed something forward.

A small, glass vial shattered against the stone floor, and suddenly—smoke exploded outward, filling the chamber in thick, blinding clouds.

Evelyn barely had time to react before she felt Damien's fingers curl around her wrist. "Move."

Through the chaos, they surged forward.

The enemy shouted in confusion, stumbling blindly, hacking at the air. Ronan moved ahead, slashing his way toward the altar.

Evelyn's heart pounded. They were close—so close.

And then—a piercing whistle.

From the smoke, something moved fast. A blur of silver and black—

Evelyn only had a second to react before a blade slashed toward her throat.

She barely twisted away, feeling the cold edge graze her skin. The smoke parted, revealing a new figure standing between them and the antidote.

A woman, dressed in obsidian armor, her cloak billowing behind her. Golden eyes gleamed beneath a sharp mask, her grip firm on a curved blade.

Velthorne's top assassin.

The room fell into deadly silence.

Damien let out a strained breath. "...That's bad."

Evelyn's fingers tightened on her sword.

The final fight for the antidote was about to begin.