Through Flame and Time

Before dawn, Snowrest lay shrouded in gray-blue morning mist.

When Aveline opened her eyes, Lucian was still asleep in her arms, his hand clasped tightly around her fingers as if fearing she might vanish in his dreams. She rose gently, draped her cape over her shoulders, and stepped out of the great hall, her footsteps sinking into the snow without a sound.

The city had not yet fully awakened. Only distant night guards patrolled in low voices, the air lingering with the stench of gunpowder and tar.

Kalia blocked her path, expression grave: "We captured an assassin who infiltrated the rear courtyard."

Aveline's eyes flickered: "From the Regent?"

"His attire marks him as a Northern Border mercenary. He wields poisoned blades and carries a royal missive."

She entered the interrogation chamber. In the dim light, the assassin was bound to a pillar, his face crisscrossed with knife scars. Before he could speak, he let out a cold laugh.

"Did you come to kill me?" she asked calmly.

"I came to send you on your way," he spat blood. "You think his retreat was surrender? It was a feint. When you die, he advances."

Aveline fell silent and turned to leave, only saying: "Seal this. No word before dawn."

Back in the council chamber, Lucian was awake, clad in light armor by the window. Sensing her presence, he turned: "Something's happened."

She nodded: "An assassin broke in. Almost succeeded."

His grip tightened on his sword hilt: "They'll try again."

"Which is why we strike first." She looked to the dawn light outside. "This battle ends on my terms."

At noon, Aveline convened the generals in the war room.

"The Regent will attack again," she declared. "But this time, we don't wait for him to approach."

The assembly stirred. General Vidal stood: "You mean to meet him in the field?"

"No. We take his head." Her gaze was a blade. "I'll lead a strike team around South Ridge to infiltrate his camp at night."

Generals murmured in debate, but Lucian said: "I go with you."

"I forbid it." She faced him. "I need you to hold the city."

After a moment of silence, he approached, whispering: "You told me to live, but I won't let you die."

She cupped his face, her vow a breath: "I don't go to die. I go to win."

That night, she donned a black raider's tunic and unmarked cape, leading six elite warriors through the forest.

By moonlight, Aveline's silhouette was a sheathed dagger gliding over snow. She knew this mission was a death sentence, but there was no choice. The Regent had seen Snowrest's cracks; delay meant certain fall.

At midnight, they circled behind the Regent's camp. Scouts had cleared the way, but the final obstacle was the dense ring of heavy guards around his tent.

With a signal, the six warriors dispersed to infiltrate.

Aveline herself scaled the earthworks on the right, avoiding torchlight to slip into the camp.

As she neared the royal tent, a cold blade lunged at her.

She parried instinctively, sparks flying as her position was revealed. Chaos erupted around her.

"Do not alert the commander!" someone barked as black-armored warriors closed in.

Aveline moved with lethal speed, dropping two in three strikes, but was soon surrounded. Then the Regent's voice came from within the tent: "Let her in."

The crowd parted.

Aveline stepped into the tent where a black-flame brazier burned bright. The Regent sat on a brocade couch, expression icy.

"You finally came," he rose. "I knew you'd come to die."

"Did you ever think," she raised her sword, "this life might be yours to lose?"

They clashed violently. Blades sang in the tent, firelight reflecting mutual killing intent.

Her footwork was savage, sword strikes like howling snow. His blade was a mountain, every blow deadly.

Dozens of moves later, Aveline took a blade to the shoulder, blood spraying. As he pressed the attack, she dodged and slashed his faceplate, opening a gash.

The Regent roared, swinging his blade. Aveline traded injury for opening, driving her dagger into his chest.

He staggered back, blood pouring, but did not fall. Instead, he seized her wrist and wrenched it.

She dropped to her knees in pain as he bent close: "You think you won? This is just the beginning."

Gritting her teeth: "No. This is the end."

Her other hand flashed, a hidden blade piercing his flank.

The Regent finally collapsed, sprawling to the ground.

Guards burst in, panicking at their fallen commander. Aveline vaulted through the window, reuniting with her warriors to escape the camp in flames.

Gravely wounded, she leaned against her horse, forcing herself to stay conscious.

At dawn, the royal flag flew at half-mast as news of the Regent's mortal wound spread through the army.

And Aveline fell unconscious in the snow.

Her last words: "Snowrest... stands."