Jarek Thorn had exactly three skills in life:
1. Talking his way into trouble.
2. Getting punched in the face.
3. Running away really, really fast.
At the moment, skill #3 was the only thing keeping him alive.
"STOP HIM!" a guard bellowed.
Jarek sprinted through the bustling streets of Arlador, dodging vendors, children, and one very angry baker who swung a rolling pin at him. The Heart of Ruin pulsed in his palm, its eerie glow attracting even more attention than the fact that he was covered in cabbage leaves.
"This is fine," Jarek panted, leaping over a fruit cart. "Everything's fine."
Behind him, the city guards were gaining. Plate armor was slow, but determination was apparently faster.
Jarek rounded a corner and nearly slammed into a brick wall.
"Oh. That's unfortunate."
He turned around. Five guards blocked the only exit.
"Alright, alright," Jarek wheezed, raising his hands. "Let's talk about this like civilized—"
One guard lunged.
Jarek immediately threw a watermelon at his face.
The man went down with a wet splat, and Jarek vaulted over him, darting between the others as they shouted in frustration. He bolted down an alley, heart pounding, and—
Wham!
He crashed directly into someone.
Jarek stumbled back, dazed. A woman stood before him, arms crossed. She had shoulder-length black hair, a tattered cloak, and the kind of expression that said she was already annoyed.
"Watch where you're going," she muttered.
Jarek blinked. "Oh. Hi."The guards stormed into the alley.
The woman sighed. "Let me guess. You stole something?"
Jarek held up the glowing artifact. "In my defense, it stole me first."
The guards charged.
The woman rolled her eyes. "Idiot."
Then, in one smooth motion, she grabbed Jarek's arm and yanked him into the shadows—vanishing completely.
The guards skidded to a stop, blinking at the empty alleyway. "…Where'd he go?"
Elsewhere…
Jarek's stomach lurched as reality twisted around him.
One second, he was in the alley. The next, he was somewhere else entirely—a dimly lit hideout, filled with weapons, maps, and half-empty bottles of liquor.
"…Okay," Jarek exhaled. "That was new."
The woman let go of his arm and stepped back. "You're welcome."
Jarek staggered. "Are we gonna talk about the part where you teleported me?"
The woman gave him a flat look. "It's called a shadow-step. Not that it matters." She leaned against the table, studying him. "Why are the guards after you?"
Jarek hesitated. Should he tell her?
On one hand, she had just saved his life. On the other hand, he had terrible luck with trusting people.
Then again, lying had never worked out for him either.
"…Okay, so hear me out," Jarek said. "I may have accidentally stolen this extremely cursed artifact from a sacred temple, and now it won't let go of me, and some weird ancient voice in my head keeps calling me a 'worthy vessel,' and now everyone wants to kill me."
Silence.
The woman sighed. "Of course you did."
Jarek blinked. "Wait, you actually believe me?"
She rolled up her sleeve, revealing a jagged red scar along her forearm. "You're not the first idiot to bond with a cursed relic."
Jarek's eyes widened. "Wait—who are you?"
The woman hesitated. Then, reluctantly, she answered:
"…Lena Evercrest."
Jarek frowned. "That name sounds familiar—"Then it hit him.His stomach dropped.
Lena Evercrest wasn't just any mercenary. She was a legend. An ex-knight of the Celestial Empire. A war hero who had betrayed her own kingdom and gone rogue.
She was one of the most wanted criminals in the world.
Jarek swallowed hard. "Huh."
Lena crossed her arms. "Still want to stick around?"
Jarek thought about it.
On one hand, she was dangerous. Ruthless. Probably would sell him out if the price was right.
On the other hand…
"…You're my best chance at not dying, aren't you?"
Lena smirked. "Smart boy."
Jarek groaned. He had a bad feeling about this.
But, really—how much worse could things get?