Dahlia and Hex hear the alarms echoing through the dungeon, the sharp ringing unsettling the quiet, shadowed halls.
Hex scowls. "What's going on?"
Dahlia glances around, surprised. "It would appear they've sounded the alarms."
Hex raises a brow, sounding irritated. "I'm aware of that. Why did they sound the alarms?"
Dahlia shifts uncomfortably, embarrassed. "Oh… I'll go look into it."
Leaving Hex behind, she hurries up the stone staircase, each step echoing through the silence. The thick stone walls feel colder, heavier than usual. As she reaches the top level, she notices that the soldiers who usually guard the entrance are gone. She glances around, puzzled—this entire part of the building seems strangely deserted.
"Hello?" she calls out, her voice bouncing off the damp stone walls, but there's no answer. Frowning, she heads back down the stairs toward the dungeon, her sense of unease growing. To her surprise, the mages who had been guarding Hex's cell have also vanished.
Dahlia mutters, "Where have the mages gone?"
Hex's voice from within the cell is a bit too calm. "They walked off right after you left."
Dahlia's expression sharpens as she turns slowly, a sense of dread creeping over her. "Something's… amiss."
She spins on her heel, bracing herself with her back against the cold metal bars of Hex's cell. Stretching her hands forward defensively, her stance lowers as her eyes dart around the dimly lit shadows of the dungeon. Her heartbeat quickens, each beat echoing louder in her ears.
"This isn't right," she murmurs, a tinge of fear in her voice.
A thin, mocking voice echoes from the darkness. "You're right… it isn't."
A figure slips forward, seeming to materialize from the shadows—a man wrapped in a dark hooded cloak, his face obscured, though a faint gleam of wickedness flashes in his eyes. His movements are almost predatory, each step soundless. He stops, studying her as he lets out a low cough.
"No one should be down here at this hour," he sneers. "So be it. I'll just have to dispose of you."
Before Dahlia can react, he lunges forward with unnatural speed, his dark cloak billowing behind him like a shadow. A curved dagger gleams in his hand, aimed directly at her throat. At the last second, Dahlia raises her arm, gripping his wrist to stop the blade mere inches from her neck. The assassin's gaze shifts, a hint of dark amusement flickering in his eyes.
He lets the dagger fall, catches it with his other hand, and thrusts toward her stomach. Just as he closes in, an icicle erupts from the floor, aimed straight for his head. The man barely manages to dodge, leaping back with a hiss.
"A mage, huh?" he scoffs, coughing once more. He pulls out a second dagger identical to the first, and with a flick of his wrist, both blades burst into a fierce purple flame, casting an eerie glow over his hooded figure. "Two can play at that."
Dahlia narrows her eyes, keeping her voice steady. "Who are you?"
The man's smirk widens, the flames dancing across his shadowed face. "Unfortunately, that's none of your business."
In a blink, he dashes forward, and they clash with a burst of intense energy, trading rapid blows with fierce precision. He moves fluidly, each swipe of his blade countered by a calculated dodge or block from Dahlia. She twists aside just in time to avoid one of his slashing daggers, raising an arm to parry his next strike. Their hands collide with brutal force, the strength behind each impact resonating through their bodies.
Dahlia lands a swift elbow to his midsection, but he recovers with a growl, swinging a quick roundhouse kick that lands squarely against her chest, sending her staggering back against the bars of Hex's cell. She grits her teeth, holding her position despite the impact.
The assassin smirks, tilting his head. "You're quite good with your hands," he sneers. "But that won't save you."
As he moves to press his advantage, Dahlia thrusts her hands forward, summoning a barrage of icicles that slice through the air toward him. Each shard gleams as it streaks forward, cutting through the shadows. With swift, expert movements, the assassin deflects and shatters each icicle, his flaming daggers blazing as he spins and slashes through the onslaught.
Despite her efforts, he advances through the icy barrage, his eyes never leaving her. "Impressive," he says mockingly. "But your mystical skills leave much to be desired."
The fight has taken a toll on Dahlia. Blood trickles from several cuts across her arms and legs, each one a testament to his speed and precision. She's breathing heavily, pain etched across her face, but her gaze remains defiant.
"You talk too much," she mutters.
He cocks his head. "I suppose it's time to end this."
With an ominous smile, he stretches his daggers forward, tracing two blazing lines in the air that cross into an 'X'. The purple flames crackle, and with a shove, he sends the burning 'X' flying toward her, an explosion of heat and power hurtling in her direction.
"That should do it," he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction.
As the dust settles, he's taken aback to see Dahlia still standing, sheltered behind an intricately crafted wall of ice shaped like a massive snowflake. She straightens, her eyes flashing with renewed determination.
"Perhaps I underestimated you," he mutters, annoyance creeping into his tone. He lunges forward, unleashing a flurry of strikes against her icy shield, but each strike rebounds, his blades unable to penetrate the barrier.
He steps back, eyes narrowed. "It seems I'll need to get a little rough with you."
The man adjusts his stance, one leg sliding back as he crosses his arms, holding his daggers in a menacing, icepick grip. Suddenly, his entire body is engulfed in a vibrant, searing purple flame, the fire intensifying around him until he's nearly obscured by the sheer heat and energy. He releases a guttural growl, the flames surging outward, growing brighter and brighter as the heat mounts.
With a final, powerful movement, he slashes the air, releasing his hands in a devastating explosion that engulfs the entire dungeon in roaring purple flames.