The moment the mask slipped, Liora's breath caught in his throat.
The golden eyes staring back at him, fierce yet undeniably familiar, struck him harder than any blade could. His grip tightened, muscles locking for a fraction of a second, his mind scrambling to process what he was seeing. It couldn't be. It wasn't possible.
And yet—
The assassin moved.
Without hesitation, she drove forward, exploiting that brief moment of hesitation. Liora barely wrenched himself back in time, her blade slicing through the air where his throat had been an instant before. He staggered, his thoughts still warring against what his eyes were telling him.
