Chapter 4: The Hunt
The rain hammered down on the courtyard, soaking through my clothes and dripping into my eyes, but I didn't fucking care. My blade trembled in my hand—not from fear, but from adrenaline. The girl, no, the Siphon, had vanished into the night, leaving me with nothing but the faint scent of ozone and the ache of unfinished business.
Who the hell was she?
I gritted my teeth, replaying the encounter in my head. She wasn't just some thief or lowlife sneaking around the castle grounds. She was something else entirely. Her movements were too precise, her defiance too sharp. And her magic... gods, that magic. It had been like staring into the heart of a storm, raw and uncontrollable.
I slammed my blade back into its sheath and stalked toward the castle gates, water splashing under my boots. Every inch of me burned, not from the fight but from the fact that I'd let her get away.
"Kaelion."
Cyran's voice sliced through the downpour. I didn't stop walking, but he fell into step beside me, his dark cloak untouched by the rain, as if the storm itself knew better than to bother him.
"You lost her," he said, not a question, just a cold observation.
"Don't fucking start," I snapped, my jaw tight.
"I warned you about arrogance," he continued, his tone infuriatingly calm. "She's not like the others."
"I know that, Cyran," I growled, rounding on him. My fists clenched at my sides. "She's a goddamn Siphon. You think I didn't notice?"
Cyran tilted his head, his gray eyes studying me with that snake-like patience that made me want to punch him. "A Siphon in Aevoria. That changes things."
"No shit," I spat. "She's working with the rebellion."
"Perhaps," he mused, his lips twitching into the barest hint of a smile. "Or perhaps she's something more."
I rolled my eyes and turned away, the urge to put my fist through something growing stronger by the second. "If you've got something to say, just fucking say it."
"I don't have answers, only questions," Cyran replied smoothly. "And I suspect she holds the key to all of them."
"She's not getting away again," I said, my voice a low growl. "I'll find her. And when I do—"
"You'll do what, exactly?" Cyran interrupted, his tone cutting. "Kill her? Interrogate her? Or will you stand there like a fool again, mesmerized by her magic?"
I rounded on him so fast he actually took a step back. "Watch your mouth, Cyran," I hissed. "I don't answer to you."
"No," he said, his smile returning. "You answer to the queen. And I wonder what she'll think of this little failure of yours."
I stared him down, my chest heaving with barely contained fury. Then I turned on my heel and stormed off, the rain washing away the heat of my anger but not the fire burning in my veins.
The streets of Aevoria blurred around me as I moved through the city, my steps fast and deliberate. I didn't know where she'd gone, but I knew the lesser district was her best bet. The rebels liked to think they could hide in the cracks of this city, but I knew those cracks better than anyone.
She wouldn't stay hidden for long.