Blood Hounds

The doors exploded inward, shards of stone and dust scattering across the chamber.

Kael barely had time to react before figures surged through the opening—Black Hounds, clad in dark leathers and steel, their weapons gleaming in the flickering light.

The first struck without hesitation, a heavy axe aimed straight for Kael's head.

He dodged, the blade slicing past his shoulder as he rolled aside. His sword was already up, catching the next attacker's strike with a sharp clang.

Rhia had drawn her dagger, eyes flashing as she ducked under a blade, twisting to slash at an exposed leg. The mercenary let out a grunt of pain but didn't go down.

Darian, already grinning, threw a knife into the throat of one Hound before meeting another head-on, his blade flashing in the dim glow of the ruins.

Kael barely had a moment to think—only to survive.

But even through the chaos, his gaze flicked toward the spot where Elias had stood.

The ghost was gone.

And his warning still echoed in Kael's mind.

"They're coming for you."

But who? The Black Hounds? Or something worse?

No time. Focus.

A Hound lunged at him, sword gleaming in the dim light. Kael parried hard, twisting to drive his elbow into the attacker's jaw. The man staggered, but another took his place—faster, more precise.

This one wasn't just a hired sword.

He was hunting Kael specifically.

A flash of recognition hit Kael too late.

A fist slammed into his ribs, knocking the breath from his lungs. He stumbled back, barely blocking the follow-up strike.

The man grinned, stepping forward.

"Not so fast, Kael."

That voice.

Kael's stomach dropped.

The attacker wasn't just any Black Hound.

It was Garran.

A face from his past. A face he never wanted to see again.

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