The night pressed against the windows like a living thing, its darkness seeping through every crack and crevice of the inn. My spear felt cool in my grip as Evelyn and I moved toward the kitchen, our footsteps whisper-soft on the worn floorboards. The air was thick with more than just woodsmoke and metal—there was something else, something that made my instincts scream of danger.
"Lance," Evelyn murmured, her voice barely stirring the air between us. "The mana patterns are wrong." Her dark eyes gleamed in the shadows, reflecting the faint moonlight that filtered through the high windows. I nodded, understanding what she meant. The usual ambient mana of the inn felt distorted, like a painting that had been subtly altered by an unskilled hand.
The kitchen door protested with a low creak as I eased it open, the sound seeming to echo through the silent building. Inside, everything looked pristine—too pristine. The pots and pans hung in perfect rows, their surfaces catching what little light penetrated the room. The kitchen knives sat in their block, arranged by size, each handle aligned with military precision.
"Someone's been here," I said, moving toward the preparation counter. My fingers traced the wooden surface, feeling for any residue. "And they wanted us to know it."
Evelyn crouched by the hearth, her hand hovering over the cold ashes. A faint purple glow emanated from her palm as she cast a detection spell. "The fire wasn't just put out," she said, frowning. "It was extinguished with mana. Recently."
I pulled open the nearest cabinet, the familiar scents of spices wafting out. But beneath the cinnamon and clove, there was something else—something bitter and wrong that made my nose wrinkle. "They're playing with us," I muttered, pushing the jars aside. "Making it obvious enough to unsettle us, but not obvious enough to spring whatever trap they've set."
"Here." Evelyn's voice drew my attention to the pantry. She stood before the shelves, holding a small vial up to the moonlight. The liquid inside seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it. "It's shadowroot extract. Rare. Expensive." Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Deadly."
I took the vial carefully, examining it. "They wouldn't leave this unless they wanted us to find it. Which means—"
A soft thud from above made us both freeze. My grip tightened on my spear as I met Evelyn's gaze. The sound came again, followed by the unmistakable whisper of steel being drawn.
"They're already here," Evelyn breathed, her staff materializing in her hand with a soft shimmer of mana.
We moved as one, slipping out of the kitchen and into the hallway. The silence felt different now—not empty, but pregnant with threat. As we approached the stairs, I caught movement in my peripheral vision. A shadow detached itself from the wall, followed by another, and another.
Five figures emerged from the darkness, their cloaks seeming to drink in what little light remained. Each moved with the fluid grace of trained killers, their weapons held with casual expertise that spoke of years of experience. The leader, taller than the others, carried a curved blade that seemed to bend the shadows around it.
"Only two?" The leader's voice was soft, almost disappointed. "The sleeping draught should have taken you both. Interesting."
I shifted my stance, angling my body to shield Evelyn slightly. "Sorry to disappoint. Though I have to admit, using shadowroot was clever. Most wouldn't have detected it."
"A compliment from the heir of Silvaria?" A quiet laugh. "I'm honored. Though I'm curious—how did you know?"
"The bitterness in the air," Evelyn answered, her voice steady despite the tension thrumming through her body. "Shadowroot leaves traces that only someone trained in herblore would recognize."
The leader's head tilted slightly. "Ah, the witch. Of course." The word carried a weight of understanding that made my skin crawl. "This complicates things."
"Does it?" I asked, letting my aura flare just enough to cast a blue glow across the hallway. "Because from where I'm standing, you've just failed your mission rather spectacularly."
"Have we?" The leader's blade whispered from its sheath, the metal seeming to devour the light around it. "I wouldn't be so sure."
The attack came without warning—five shadows converging at once, their blades singing through the air. I met the first with my spear, enhanced aura flaring bright as steel met steel. Beside me, Evelyn's staff traced purple arcs through the darkness, her magic crackling like contained lightning.
The hallway erupted into controlled chaos. The assassins moved like water, their attacks flowing into each other with practiced precision. But we were ready. My spear danced between them, each strike precise and measured, while Evelyn's spells kept them from fully surrounding us.
"You should have brought more men," I said, parrying a thrust and countering with a sweep that sent one assassin stumbling back.
The leader's laugh was sharp as broken glass. "Who says we didn't?"
More shadows peeled away from the darkness above and below us, their weapons glinting in the dim light. I counted at least eight more, their auras pulsing with deadly intent. They had planned this well, I had to admit. But they'd made one crucial mistake.
My aura surged, the blue light of resonance filling the hallway like dawn. The spear in my hands hummed with power, each movement leaving trails of light in its wake. "Evelyn," I said, my voice carrying a weight of certainty. "Stay close."
She pressed her back to mine, her magic humming in harmony with my resonance. "Always."
The first wave came at us like a tide of shadows. My spear moved in precise arcs, each strike finding its mark with devastating accuracy. Two assassins fell in quick succession, their bodies crumpling before they could cry out. Evelyn's magic erupted in bursts of purple light, her spells catching three more in a web of crackling energy.
The leader watched from the shadows, his curved blade drinking in the light of our battle. "Impressive," he murmured, finally stepping forward. "But not enough."
His blade moved like liquid darkness, testing my defenses with strikes that seemed to bend reality itself. I met each attack with my spear, resonance flaring brighter with every clash. Around us, the remaining assassins circled like wolves, waiting for an opening.
"You're right," I said, a smile touching my lips. "It's not enough." My aura pulsed once, twice, then exploded outward in a wave of pure force. The hallway filled with blue light so intense it turned night to day for one brilliant moment.
When the light faded, only the leader remained standing, his blade raised in a defensive stance. His hood had fallen back, revealing a face marked with old scars and eyes that held a glimmer of respect.
"Well then," he said softly. "Shall we begin properly?"