Chapter 9: The Betrayal Unfolds
The sun was low in the sky as Lirien and Varian sprinted through the dense forest, their breaths ragged in their chests. The sound of pursuit echoed behind them—footsteps too quick, too relentless to be those of mere travelers.
Varian motioned for Lirien to follow him into a narrow ravine, hoping the natural cover would slow their pursuers. They dove into the shadows, hiding beneath the overhanging rocks.
"Who is it?" Lirien asked, her voice tight with fear.
Varian's eyes were narrowed, scanning the area. "I don't know. But they're good. They've been trained."
The sounds of their pursuers grew louder, and Lirien's heart raced. She could feel the pull of destiny, dragging her closer to the edge of something terrible.
Then, without warning, the figure appeared from the shadows.
Lirien's breath caught in her throat.
It was Azrael, a former ally, and the last person she would ever suspect to betray them.
He wore a cloak of midnight blue, the symbol of the Dawnclaw Guild etched across his chest. His dark eyes, usually warm, were now cold and calculating.
"You," Lirien spat, taking a step back. "You were with the Guild all along?"
Azrael's smile was all teeth. "I was never with you, Lirien. I was with the Tribunal. You just didn't know it."
Varian lunged at him, but Azrael's hand moved in a blur. In a single motion, he had Varian pinned against the ravine wall, his dagger pressed to his throat.
Lirien's heart clenched. Betrayed—by someone she had once called a friend.
"You've made a grave mistake, Varian," Azrael said softly, his voice like silk. "But don't worry. I'll make sure the Tribunal doesn't kill you. Not yet."