The Beginning

The Beginning
Chapter 118:

Lucien’s gaze didn’t leave her. “No,” he said softly, “but it might keep us human.”

Kael huffed out a weak laugh, muttering, “You two talk like the world’s ending,” he turned his face towards the wall, “Maybe it already has.” He muttered under his breath. Within moments, his breathing deepened again, and he drifted off before either could answer him.

The quiet that followed was different this time. Thicker. Heavier. The logs from the fire crackled softly, the sound loud in the silence.

Aria drew her knees up, watching the flames bend and twist. “Human,” she repeated quietly, like testing the word. It sounded fragile here, foreign.

Lucien’s eyelids drooped, the herbs finally dragging him toward rest. “Sleep, Aria,” he murmured. “Just this once… let your mind be quiet.”

And for a while, it was.

The world outside seemed to hold its breath. The rogues’ murmurs faded into the distance, replaced by the soft rustle of the leaves dancing in the wind. Even the forest had gone still. Aria closed her eyes, exhaustion pulling her down like a tide.

And then the silence broke.

A rustle, small and deliberate. Not the shuffle of someone unsure trying to peek in, but someone who knew what they were coming for. Lucien’s head snapped up. His wolf stirred beneath his skin, senses sharpening instantly.

“Aria,” he said, voice low. “Wake him.”

But she was already moving.

The flap of hide at the entrance shifted, not pushed aside, but cut through. A glint of steel caught the light. A shadow slipped inside.

Lucien was on his feet before the blade finished slicing through the air. His body moved faster than his wound should’ve allowed, intercepting the strike with his forearm. Metal scraped against skin and bone. He grunted, twisting, and slammed the intruder back into the wall.

The figure didn’t fall. They rolled, fast, agile. A second dagger appeared in their hand, curved and silvered.

“Assassin’s,” Lucien hissed between his teeth, recognition flaring in his eyes. “Who sent you?”

Kael stirred with a groan, trying to sit up, but Aria’s hand shot out. “Stay down.”

Another shadow burst through the entrance. Then a third. The small shelter filled with movement, chaos in close quarters, the smell of steel, damp leather, and blood.

Lucien ducked from a blow aimed at his throat, caught the assassin’s wrist and twisted hard until the sound of bone cracking filled the space. The man didn’t scream. He just reached for the knife in his belt with his other hand.

Aria kicked it away before it could leave its sheath.

“Behind you!” Kael shouted hoarsely.

Lucien spun, catching another blade with his own. The sound rang through the hollow, bright and deadly.

Aria grabbed Kael’s fallen dagger from beside his cot, the weight familiar, grounding. She moved toward the second assassin, a bit smaller, and way more lighter on his feet, his face covered by a cloth mask. He lunged low, quick. Aria sidestepped, steel flashing as his blade grazed her sleeve.

She struck back, fast and clean. He blocked, just barely.

Lucien slammed his opponent into the wall again, the man’s breath leaving him in a gasp. But more shadows filled the entrance, two, maybe three. Too many for his injured arm.

“Aria!” he barked.

“I see them!”

Her Rune pulsed under her skin, hot and eager, but she forced it still. She wouldn’t lose control again. Not now. She would fight as she was, not what the mark made her.

Her opponent lunged again. She ducked beneath his arm, pivoted, and caught him off-balance with her shoulder. The blade clattered from his grip. She turned with the motion, elbow driving hard into his chest. He stumbled back.

The next strike came for her throat. She blocked with the dagger, sparks flying where metal met metal, then twisted her wrist, knocking his weapon aside. Before he could recover, she slammed the hilt of her dagger into his jaw. The man went down hard.

Breathing hard, she stepped over him, her body thrumming with adrenaline. The Rune throbbed against her back and arms, heat licking at her skin, but she didn’t use it. This was her. Training, instinct, will.

Lucien dispatched his last attacker with a brutal twist of his blade. The man crumpled silently, blood smearing the stones. For a heartbeat, all was still again except for their ragged breathing.

Kael pushed himself upright, wincing. “Tell me that was all of them.”

Lucien didn’t answer. His eyes scanned the dark beyond the flap. Rain fell heavier now, pattering against the stone outside. He stepped forward slowly, his boots silent.

Then…movement.

A faint whistle cut through the air. Lucien grabbed Aria by the waist and pulled her down just as a dart flew through the space where her head had been. It buried itself deep in the wall, hissing faintly with some kind of smoke.

“Poison,” he growled. “Stay low.”

Aria looked toward the entrance, but there was no one there. Just the faint shimmer of movement retreating into the trees. The assassins had vanished as quickly as they’d come.

Lucien let out a slow breath. “Whoever they are… they're getting bold.”

Kael coughed, half-laughing, half-groaning. “Bold? They just sent knives through a camp full of rogues. That’s not bold, that’s desperate!”

Outside, voices began to rise, the rogues, stirred by the noise. The old healer appeared in the doorway, eyes wide. “What happened?”

“How covenient, you decide to show up just as the assadins are gone,” Lucien said grimly, scanning her face for any sign of deceit. “Tell me, are you done playing your little game?”

The woman’s expression hardened. “ I don’t know what you’re talking about, whoever attacked you just now were not my men!” She replied sharply.

“Oh?” Lucien arched a brow, “How do you explain the fact they knew where we were so easily? Our tent, that I'm just noticing is very suspiciously placed farther away from others, hmm?”

She said nothing.