Lucian and his elite warriors moved like shadows through the dense forest, their footsteps silent against the forest floor. Above them, the moon hung low, its pale light barely penetrating the canopy of twisted branches. The wind whispered ominously through the trees, carrying with it the scent of blood and iron—an unspoken promise of the battle to come.
They were deep in enemy territory now, their path lit only by the faint glow of Lucian's crimson eyes, which pierced through the darkness like twin flames. Every movement was calculated, every breath measured. Lucian's senses were on high alert, attuned to the slightest disturbance in the air. He knew Ronan's forces would have scouts posted along the way, but he trusted his instincts to guide them unseen.
Behind him, his chosen fighters followed in perfect formation. Among them was Cassius, a towering figure with silver hair and a jagged scar across his neck. Once a feared general of a fallen clan, Cassius had pledged himself to Lucian's cause out of both loyalty and revenge. Beside him was Lyra, a lithe, dark-eyed assassin whose reputation for silence and precision was unmatched. Together, they formed a deadly unit—one that would strike at the heart of Ronan's empire.
After hours of silent travel, they reached the base of the cliffs that surrounded Ronan's stronghold. The fortress loomed above them, a monstrous structure of stone and iron carved into the mountain itself. Guard towers jutted from its sides like jagged teeth, their torches flickering in the night.
Cassius eyed the fortress with a grim expression. "Heavily guarded, as expected. Getting in unnoticed won't be easy."
Lucian smirked. "Easy would be boring."
Lyra stepped forward, her eyes scanning the towers. "There's a blind spot on the western side, near the cliffs. We can scale it without being seen, but the climb will be dangerous."
"Dangerous is preferable to predictable," Lucian said. "Lead the way."
With Lyra in front, they made their way toward the western cliffs, careful to avoid the patrolling guards. The climb was treacherous, the rock face slick with moss and dew, but none of them hesitated. Lucian moved with the grace of a predator, his hands and feet finding purchase with ease.
Halfway up, Cassius muttered under his breath, "I hope you have a plan once we're inside."
"I always have a plan," Lucian replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "Follow my lead, and you'll live to see it unfold."
Cassius snorted softly but said no more.
When they finally reached the top, Lyra signaled for them to stop. Ahead lay a narrow ledge that led directly to a side entrance—one that appeared unguarded. But Lucian knew better than to trust appearances.
"Wait," he said, his voice low but firm. He closed his eyes briefly, allowing his heightened senses to expand outward. He felt the subtle vibrations in the air, the faint pulse of magic woven into the entrance. "It's warded. Ronan doesn't rely on soldiers alone."
Lyra frowned. "Can you break it?"
Lucian's smirk returned. "Of course. Stay close."
Drawing upon the dark energy that coursed through him, he extended his hand toward the ward. Shadows coiled around his fingers, weaving through the invisible barrier like tendrils of smoke. He muttered an incantation in an ancient tongue, one that resonated with power and authority.
The air shimmered briefly, and then the ward dissolved with a faint crackle.
"Impressive," Cassius said, genuinely impressed.
Lucian lowered his hand, his eyes gleaming. "Let's move."
They slipped through the entrance, finding themselves in a dimly lit corridor. The air inside was cold and damp, carrying the scent of stone and decay. Lucian led the way, his footsteps silent against the stone floor.
As they moved deeper into the fortress, they encountered minimal resistance—an oddity that didn't go unnoticed.
"This feels too easy," Lyra whispered. "Where are all the guards?"
"They're likely concentrated near Ronan's chamber," Lucian replied. "Stay alert."
They continued onward, weaving through the labyrinthine halls. Finally, they reached a large iron door, intricately carved with runes of protection. Beyond it lay Ronan's chamber—the heart of his power.
Cassius stepped forward, his massive hand resting on the hilt of his greatsword. "Shall we knock?"
Lucian's smirk widened, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "No need." He placed his hand on the door, shadows swirling around his fingers once more. The runes flared briefly before fading into nothingness, and with a single push, the door creaked open.
Inside, the chamber was vast and ornate, with high ceilings and walls lined with ancient banners. At its center stood Ronan himself, clad in black armor that gleamed like obsidian. His crimson eyes locked onto Lucian's, and a cruel smile spread across his face.
"I was wondering when you'd show up," Ronan said, his voice echoing through the chamber. "Come, brother. Let us finish what was started centuries ago."
Lucian stepped forward, his aura flaring with dark energy. "With pleasure.