[The Horns of War]
The horn's call hung in the air—a deep, bone-shaking sound that sent a chill through Andrew's spine.
It wasn't just a warning.
It was a summons.
Blackmere, already a city of tension and paranoia, seemed to freeze for a heartbeat. Merchants abandoned their stalls. Doors slammed shut. Shadows moved between rooftops as if the city itself was holding its breath.
Then—
The first scream shattered the silence.
Andrew turned toward the main street just in time to see them.
A group of black-cloaked figures moved swiftly through the crowd, weapons flashing in the morning light. They weren't just soldiers.
Assassins. Killers. Hunters.
And they were heading straight for him.
Kieran grinned. "Guess they're eager."
Celia cursed. "We need to move. Now."
Andrew barely had time to process before she grabbed his arm and yanked him toward the alleys.
But they weren't fast enough.
A dagger flew past his ear, embedding itself into the wooden post beside him.
Then—they attacked.
[Battle in the Streets]
The first assassin lunged.
Celia met him mid-strike, her blade flashing as she parried his attack and countered with a sharp kick to his ribs. The man stumbled, but another one took his place immediately.
Kieran had already vanished into the shadows—only to reappear behind one of the attackers, his twin daggers slicing through the man's throat.
Andrew moved on instinct.
One of the assassins charged toward him, sword raised.
Andrew ducked.
The blade whistled over his head—too close.
His pulse roared in his ears. No weapon. No armor.
He was going to—
The mark on his wrist burned.
And suddenly, everything slowed.
Andrew's mind sharpened. His body moved before he could think.
He sidestepped the next attack, grabbing the assassin's wrist and twisting hard. The sword clattered to the ground. The assassin snarled, reaching for another weapon—
Andrew didn't let him.
He slammed his fist into the man's chest—and something pulsed beneath his skin.
A force exploded outward.
The assassin was sent flying, crashing into the stone wall with a sickening crunch.
Andrew stared at his own hand, stunned.
Celia's voice snapped him out of it.
"MOVE!"
She tackled him aside just as another blade nearly took his head off.
He hit the ground hard, pain jolting up his side.
No time to think.
More were coming.
[The Black Hand Moves]
The assassins weren't alone.
Through the thick of battle, Andrew saw more figures appearing from the rooftops.
And at their center—
A man in raven-black armor.
Tall. Powerful. Eyes like cold steel.
He wasn't just another soldier.
He was their leader.
And the moment his gaze landed on Andrew—
Andrew felt his blood turn to ice.
The man raised a gloved hand.
"Take him."
The assassins surged forward.
Andrew braced himself—
Then—
The ground erupted.
A massive shockwave burst from his mark, sending assassins sprawling backward. The force was so intense that even Celia had to shield her eyes.
Kieran let out a low whistle. "Well, that's new."
Andrew stumbled, gasping. His vision blurred. His body felt heavy—as if he had just drained every ounce of energy in his veins.
But the attack had worked.
The assassins were scattered.
And for the first time—fear flickered in their leader's eyes.
Only for a second.
Then, he smiled.
"The boy has awakened."
He raised a single hand.
The assassins stopped instantly.
Then, just as quickly as they had attacked—
They retreated.
Andrew could do nothing but watch as the Black Hand melted back into the shadows.
Vanishing into the depths of Blackmere like they had never been there.
Only the bodies on the ground remained.
And the unshakable certainty that this wasn't over.
Not even close.
[The Truth Unveiled]
They retreated to Kieran's hideout.
The moment they entered, Celia slammed the door shut, locking it behind them.
"Explain," she snapped, turning to Kieran.
Kieran raised an eyebrow. "Which part?"
"All of it."
Kieran sighed, rolling his shoulders. "Fine. Let's start simple."
He turned to Andrew.
"That mark on your wrist?"
Andrew tensed.
Kieran's smirk faded.
"It's a claim," he said. "A brand of power. And the Black Hand? They serve someone who wants that power for himself."
Andrew swallowed hard. "Who?"
Kieran hesitated.
Then, in a low, measured voice, he spoke the name.
"Lord Malakar."
The room went dead silent.
Celia's expression darkened. "No. That's impossible. Malakar is—"
"Alive," Kieran finished. "And he's coming."
Andrew clenched his fists. "What does he want with me?"
Kieran's smirk returned.
"Oh, that's the best part," he said. "You see, Malakar doesn't just want you dead."
He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"He wants you to take his throne."
Andrew's breath caught.
"What?"
Celia looked just as shocked.
Kieran chuckled. "Did you really think that power of yours just appeared out of nowhere? That mark isn't random. It's a legacy."
He stepped back, crossing his arms.
"Congratulations, Andrew. You're the rightful heir to a throne you never knew existed."
Andrew staggered back.
It felt impossible.
A lie.
And yet—
Deep in his bones, he felt the truth of it.
Celia exhaled sharply. "That means—"
Kieran nodded.
"Yeah. The Black Hand isn't just hunting him."
His grin sharpened.
"They're trying to claim him."
Andrew's head spun.
The mark. The power. The war.
He had been running from something he didn't even understand.
But now, there was no running left to do.
He had to fight.
Before they came for him again.
[The Next Move]
Before Andrew could respond, a knock echoed through the room.
Loud. Insistent.
Celia and Kieran froze.
Andrew reached for a weapon.
Kieran motioned for silence, stepping forward. He pressed a hand against the door—listening.
Then—he smirked.
"Well, well."
He unlocked the door and pulled it open.
A figure stood in the doorway.
Tall. Hooded. Armed.
And when they lifted their head—Andrew's stomach dropped.
Because he knew that face.
A face from his past.
One he had thought was dead.
The stranger grinned.
"Miss me?"