"Did you get a good look at the manor?" A female voice crackled softly in Darius's earpiece, almost lost beneath the rain-slick rooftops.
"I can't see any movement from my vantage point."
Darius pressed a finger against the small device hidden beneath his hood.
"Plenty of guards—none look too alert, though," he replied, eyes scanning the courtyard below.
"Either Lord Ferric's men are overconfident, or they're in for a surprise."
He crouched on the edge of a slanted rooftop in the heart of Blackstone City, feeling the cold drizzle soak through his boots. Even from this distance, Lord Ferric DeLacroix's opulent manor stood out—high walls, spiked iron gates, and statues lining a marble walkway. Yet for all that grandeur, there seemed to be only a handful of patrolling guards.
"The better for me," Darius muttered, then whispered into the earpiece again.
"Reyna, keep an eye on the perimeter. If anything changes, let me know."
"I will," Reyna's voice answered.
"Just don't get cocky, Darius. We're not charging extra if you get yourself killed."
A small grin tugged at his lips. He had to admit, working with a spotter eased some tension—though "working with" might be too generous a term. They were acquaintances of convenience, not trusted partners. But if tonight's job went well, he'd have enough coin to disappear for good.
He checked the time on a battered pocket watch.
"Thirty minutes past midnight. Right on schedule."
Another infiltration, another contract. It should have been routine—until Reyna's hush came over the line.
"Darius, something's off," she murmured.
"I see a single robed figure heading inside through the servants' entrance. No guard tried to stop him."
He narrowed his eyes.
"A mage, maybe? Lord Ferric's rumored to hire them for his… experiments."
"Experiments?" Reyna let out a low whistle.
"Fancy word for black-market magic."
Darius shrugged to himself.
"Call it what you will. I'm going in."
Without another word, he stored the earpiece in a hidden pocket, preferring absolute silence during infiltration. He dashed across the slick rooftop, leaping a narrow alleyway to land on the next building. The adrenaline rush he felt in midair was something he lived for. Though he was known as the best assassin in Blackstone City, maybe the entire continent, he never stopped honing his craft.
A single rope anchored him safely as he rappelled down to a side window. With deft fingers, he slid a slim pick from his belt, jimmied the latch, and slipped inside. His feet landed on worn floorboards in a dark, dusty corridor. The stench of moth-eaten drapes stung his nose. According to the layout he'd memorized, this old, abandoned estate connected directly to Lord Ferric's manor via a hidden passage.
"Good," he whispered to himself.
"One step closer."
He noticed footprints in the dust, someone else had been here recently. A knot formed in his stomach.
"I'm not the only one after Ferric tonight," he thought, carefully stepping forward.
"But who?"
He listened for voices. Silence. Then, a slight shuffle echoed from the far end of the corridor. With catlike grace, Darius moved closer, pressing his ear to a swollen wooden door. Nothing. He slowly turned the knob and slipped inside.
"Gah!" a ragged voice cried from behind a stack of crates. Darius spun, dagger in hand.
An older man, clad in a dirt-stained cloak, stumbled into view. He seemed unarmed, more terrified than threatening.
"Who are you?" Darius hissed, blade glinting.
"State your business."
"J-Just a thief!" The man raised trembling hands in surrender.
"I swear I'm no threat. I—"
He froze as his gaze fell on Darius's dagger and the assassin's cold, unblinking stare.
"You saw footprints in the dust," Darius murmured, voice low
"so you came this way?"
The thief nodded frantically.
"Heard rumors about a secret corridor leading into Ferric's manor. Thought I could maybe…snag some valuables."
Darius studied the man's ragged clothes and shaking limbs. Probably telling the truth, just an opportunist who'd stumbled onto something bigger.
"Leave," Darius ordered, pointing to the door behind him.
"If you value your life, you'll pretend you never found this passage."
"But—"
"Go," Darius repeated, stepping forward.
"Now."
The thief swallowed hard, eyes darting between the dagger and Darius's unreadable expression. Without another word, he scrambled out the way Darius had come. The assassin exhaled slowly. That interaction could have been worse.
"At least it was just a common thief," he thought, sheathing his dagger.
"No need to stain my blade."
With that settled, he descended a narrow flight of stairs until he reached a half-crumbled wall. Here it was the hidden tunnel leading to Ferric's estate. A musty smell filled the air, and a lone torch sputtered in an iron bracket, barely lighting the subterranean passage. He touched the old stone, feeling a tremor of unease.
"Focus," he told himself.
"In and out. No complications."
Yet something gnawed at him. Usually, Ferric's reputation for paranoid security measures meant layers of wards, traps, or at least a locked gate. Tonight felt too easy. He checked for runes or magical glyphs but found none. Strange.
Sliding through a narrow gap, Darius emerged in a short corridor that ended in an ornate wooden door. Pressing an ear against it, he heard muffled voices.
"Lord Ferric demands perfection," a smooth baritone said.
"Be sure everything is prepared for the ritual."
A second voice, raspy and tense, replied,
"Yes, yes. We have the subject ready. The master only needs the final incantation."
Darius's pulse quickened.
"Ritual? Subject? So those rumors about black-market magic are true."
He took a silent breath, pushed the door open a crack, and peered inside. Two figures in dark robes stood near an alchemical setup—vials, beakers, and arcane symbols scrawled across the floor. This wasn't Ferric's study, but a basement laboratory.
"Are you sure the assassin will come?" the raspy voice asked.
"The master said he wants to deal with him personally."
"He'll come," the baritone insisted,
"because we've made it easy for him. And once he appears…" The robed figure's lips curled into a grin,
"…he'll walk right into our master's trap."
Darius stiffened.
"A trap," he muttered under his breath.
"For me."
It all clicked. This job had been too smooth, too convenient, someone wanted him here. He considered turning back, but the contract was clear: Kill Lord Ferric. If this was an ambush, he'd turn it around and strike first.
He edged away from the door, deciding it was best to bypass the robed underlings and head upstairs. Based on the building's layout, Ferric's personal study was likely on the second floor. He took another route—an older service stairwell. With each step, he replayed the robed figures' words.
"The master wants to deal with him personally." Could that imply Ferric had predicted every move?
Finally, he reached a marble-floored corridor lit by flickering sconces. Gold-framed portraits of stern ancestors lined the walls, and the faint scent of incense clung to the air. He pressed himself against a pillar as a guard strolled by. The guard wore Ferric's crest on his breastplate but looked unnervingly calm for someone who might be expecting an assassin.
"Must be under orders not to intervene," Darius mused.
"They want me to get as far as Ferric. Interesting."
He slipped past the guard's patrol route, rounding a corner until he found a massive oak door—elaborate carvings of dragons and roses forming an intimidating threshold. The smell of incense grew stronger. He could almost taste the tension in the air.
"Lord Ferric's study," he whispered.
"No turning back now."
Drawing a dagger in one hand and a short throwing knife in the other, he eased the door open. Inside, the room glowed with a subdued orange light, cast by tall candles atop a carved mahogany desk. Bookshelves stuffed with ancient tomes rose to the high ceiling. And seated calmly behind the desk, swirling a glass of wine, was Lord Ferric DeLacroix himself.
"I've been waiting for you, Darius Nightshade," Ferric said, not bothering to turn around.
"Impressive that you made it this far unscathed."
Darius froze at the mention of his name.
"You talk as if this entire night was orchestrated just to get me here."
"That's because it was," Ferric replied. He set his wine down and stood, draping plush robes over a lean frame.
"Your client and I came to an understanding, you see. They wanted you gone. I wanted to test a new brand of magic. We both win if you show up."
A ripple of anger shot through Darius.
"They hired me to kill you, and you paid them to… kill me?" He snorted.
"That's some twisted arrangement."
Ferric turned, revealing a smug smile.
"Money can buy loyalty or betrayal. Depends on one's point of view." He flicked a finger.
"Come out, my friends. Show our guest the hospitality we promised."
Shadows in the corners of the study shifted. Three robed figures materialized, chanting in low tones. Their voices buzzed with an eerie resonance that made the hairs on Darius's neck stand on end.
"So you're the robed ones I overheard downstairs," Darius muttered.
"Didn't realize we'd meet this soon."
One mage lowered his hood, revealing a gaunt face etched with arcane symbols.
"We've looked forward to testing our new spells on a worthy subject."
"Here's your chance," Darius retorted, flipping his throwing knife into a ready position.
Lightning crackled around the mage's fingertips. Another let out a guttural chant, summoning a swirling orb of violet flame. Darius lunged to the side, launching his throwing knife straight at the second mage's heart. But an invisible barrier deflected it, sparks flying in all directions.
"Oh, you can do better than that," Ferric chided, stepping behind the protective ring of magic.
"You're the legendary Darius, after all."
Gritting his teeth, Darius dashed low. He aimed a slash at the chanting mage's leg, hoping to disrupt the spell. A burst of purple fire flared across his path, forcing him to roll away. Pain stabbed through his right side as the edge of the flames grazed his ribs. He hissed but pressed on, adrenaline coursing through him.
"Persistent," Ferric observed.
"But you'll need more than speed to beat us."
The third mage thrust out a hand, black lightning arced across the room, colliding with Darius's chest. His muscles clenched in agony, breath ripped from his lungs. He crashed onto the hardwood floor, vision flashing white.
"Lord Ferric," one mage said calmly,
"shall we finish him?"
"Not yet," Ferric replied, strolling forward. He loomed over Darius, who lay gasping for air, the sting of dark magic still rippling through his body.
"I'd like a moment."
With a calm smile, Ferric crouched beside him.
"You see, Darius, your client wasn't just paying for my death. They wanted to ensure you never saw another sunrise. Didn't you suspect anything when everything seemed… too easy?"
Darius spat blood onto the floor, eyes blazing with a final spark of defiance.
"I don't go down so easily."
Ferric scoffed.
"You already have." He gestured to the mage who still crackled with black lightning.
"End it."
Before Darius could even move, another jolt of dark energy slammed into him. Pain ricocheted through every bone, every muscle, until the world around him dissolved into cold, unforgiving blackness. In that silent void, he felt a strange tug, as if something was pulling him away from his body, some force neither life nor death.
"No…" he tried to whisper, but no sound emerged.
The last thing he sensed was Ferric's triumphant laughter echoing through the study, merging with the chanting mages and the flickering candlelight. Then all faded into a yawning, endless darkness.