The Ligurian coastline stretched before us like a jagged scar, the sea thrashing restlessly against the rocks below. A mist hung over the waves, heavy with salt and foreboding, as though the ocean itself was reluctant to reveal what lay ahead.
Darius crouched beside me, his sharp gaze fixed on the Templar outpost nestled within a small cove. From our vantage point on the cliffside, I could see the faint flicker of torchlight patrolling the wooden piers and the massive silhouette of warships moored in the harbor. Even from here, the sheer scale of it sent a chill down my spine.
"This doesn't look like a mere outpost," I murmured, narrowing my eyes. "It's a fortress."
"Fortresses can still burn," Darius replied coolly. "The trick is knowing where to strike."
His confidence irritated me. I hated the way he spoke as if this was routine, as if we weren't staring down an operation capable of changing the course of the entire war. My hand instinctively brushed the hilt of my dagger, a small comfort in the face of what lay ahead.
"How many guards?" I asked, scanning the piers.
"Two dozen, at least. Likely more inside the warehouses." Darius glanced at me, his tone sharpening. "This won't be a silent affair. Once we move, the alarm will sound. We'll have to be fast."
"And your plan?" I prompted, though part of me already knew I wouldn't like the answer.
"We split up. You take the warehouses—destroy the stockpiles of powder. I'll deal with the ships."
I turned to look at him, incredulous. "You expect me to trust you enough to let you out of my sight?"
His lips curled into that maddening smirk. "No. I expect you to trust that we both want those weapons destroyed. The fewer resources the Grand Master has, the better—for both of us."
He wasn't wrong, but the thought of losing track of him left a sour taste in my mouth. "If you betray me, Laurent—"
"You'll put a blade in my back," he finished smoothly. "Yes, Assassin, I know."
I gritted my teeth, swallowing the retort that burned my tongue. We didn't have time for this. "Fine," I said tightly. "But if I see one Templar ship sail out of that cove, I will hunt you down."
Darius only chuckled softly, rising to his feet. "Then let's make sure none of them sail, shall we?"
---
Moving through the darkness, I kept to the shadows, slipping down the rocky cliffs toward the warehouses. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat syncing with the crash of waves against stone. The faint murmur of voices carried on the wind—guards talking, laughing, unaware of the storm about to fall upon them.
I crept toward the first warehouse, a hulking structure of timber and iron that reeked of salt, gunpowder, and sweat. Through the gaps in the wood, I could make out barrels stacked high, some marked with the Templar cross. My fingers tightened around the hilt of my blade.
A shadow passed in front of the door—a lone sentry. I moved quickly, silent as death, slipping behind him. My dagger flashed in the torchlight. He dropped without a sound.
I pushed the door open just enough to slip inside, where the air grew thick with the acrid stench of gunpowder. The stockpile stretched out before me—a sea of barrels and crates, enough to arm a small army. I reached for the small pouch of oil at my belt, uncorking it carefully. I would have to move fast; once the fire started, the entire cove would be alerted.
---
Meanwhile, on the piers, Darius moved like a shadow through the chaos of dockworkers and patrols. His sword flashed in the moonlight, cutting down those who crossed his path with surgical precision. He reached the moored ships, their tall masts swaying gently against the wind. The Templars were clever, but they had not anticipated betrayal from within.
Darius set to work quickly, lighting torches and tossing them into the holds of the nearest vessels. The dry wood caught like kindling, flames licking up the sails as smoke poured into the night air. Shouts erupted across the docks, panicked voices barking orders, but it was already too late. The ships were burning.
---
The first warehouse erupted in a deafening roar. Flames shot skyward, shattering the night's silence and illuminating the cove in a hellish glow. I sprinted to the second warehouse, ducking under a hail of arrows as guards finally spotted me.
"Stop her!" someone screamed.
I dove through a broken window, crashing into a pile of crates. Pain flared up my side, but I ignored it, scrambling to my feet. Shouts and footsteps echoed outside—there wasn't much time.
Pouring oil across the barrels, I drew a flint and struck it hard. Sparks leapt to life, catching on the slick trail of oil. I stumbled back as the fire spread quickly, turning toward the exit just as the second explosion rocked the ground beneath me. Splinters rained from above, and I threw myself into the night, smoke curling around me like a shroud.
Through the chaos, I caught sight of Darius on the piers. He moved with deadly grace, cutting down a pair of guards as flames consumed the ships behind him. For a moment, his eyes met mine across the burning harbor—sharp, assessing, alive with firelight.
Then the moment broke. More guards poured in, shouting, arrows whistling through the smoke. I turned and ran, pushing myself harder than I thought possible. The cliffs loomed ahead, their jagged edge promising safety if I could reach them.
"Laurent!" I shouted into the smoke, though I couldn't see him anymore.
A figure broke through the chaos—a Templar knight, armored and massive. He raised his sword high, the blade flashing toward me. I ducked at the last second, my dagger driving into the weak point beneath his arm. He fell with a crash, and I staggered upright, lungs burning.
"Elara!" Darius' voice cut through the din. I turned just in time to see him emerging from the flames, bloodied but alive.
"This way!" he called, gesturing toward the cliffs.
Together, we sprinted for the edge, the roar of fire and the cries of men blending into a single, chaotic cacophony. I didn't look back. I didn't need to. The Templar fortress was burning.
When we reached the top of the cliffs, I collapsed to my knees, chest heaving. Below, the cove was an inferno—ships reduced to smoldering skeletons, warehouses engulfed in flames. The Templars' ambitions had gone up in smoke.
Darius stood beside me, his face unreadable as he stared at the destruction. "It's done."
"For now," I replied, though I couldn't suppress the satisfaction in my voice.
He looked down at me, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. "You'll see, Elara. This war isn't what you think."
I didn't answer. The truth was, his words haunted me more than I cared to admit.
The fire burned bright into the night, but I couldn't help wondering—what darkness had we just unleashed?