The city's bell tolling like a death knell, its reverberations drowned in the heavy smoke rising through the battered streets.
The smell of burnt flesh hung thick with the fetid odor of spread guts and dried blood.
Kael stumbled against a crumbling wall, gasping for breath, his side aflame from the wound carving a path through his flesh.
The stranger's words still buzzed in his head, but there was no time to contemplate their significance.
Reinforcements were coming.
He heard them before he saw them: the syncopated stomp of boots on stone, the clank of armor, and the low murmur of voices trading orders. It was the elite hunters of the Shadowborne.
These were not your typical city guards or common soldiers.
These were killers who had been trained in the same art as Kael, assassins bred from childhood to hone the craft of death.
A metallic hiss rang as Kael wrenched a discarded sword from the body at his feet.
His daggers remained strapped to his belt, but he would require something heavier, with reach.
Blood oozed from the blade as he drew a breath to steady himself, blithe to the jagged pain slicing through his ribs. If he fell here, he'd never learn the truth.
He would never break free.
The first assassin rounded the corner, a huge dark figure made of leather and chainmail.
In his hand sparkled a wickedly curved saber.
His eyes bore down on Kael, and a slow, predatory grin curved on his scarred face.
"The prodigal son," the assassin said. "Your little rebellion is over tonight."
Kael did not respond.
The sword in his hand was a blur of motion as he lunged.
The assassin blocked, steel screaming against steel.
Kael twisted away from the riposte that was aimed enough for his throat and drove his knee into the assassin's gut. The man stepped back a hesitant pace, enough for Kael to cut down, cutting deep into his shoulder.
The assassin bellowed a strangled roar but did not drop. Instead, he leapt forward in a killing arc of saber, and Kael could barely parry the blow, only to find himself stumbling backward.
With the opening from the blow, the assassin slipped behind it and kicked hard, straight into Kael's bruised side.
Pain erupted in his ribs. He slammed on the ground, rolling over a corpse to overcome them. The assassin moved forward with measured confidence.
"You should've been loyal," the man said with a sneer, hefting his saber for the death blow.
But Kael's fingers had found the grip of a fallen dagger.
He didn't hesitate. With a swift flick of his wrist, the blade sliced through the air, driving itself to the hilt in the assassin's throat.
The man gurgled, taking a step back, his eyes wide with shock.
His saber fell from his hand and clattered against the bloodied cobblestones.
He gasped once, strangled, and collapsed to the ground, his life oozing out onto the bleeding cobblestones below him.
Kael braced himself to sit up, wincing at the protesting of his wound. One down.
But more were coming.
He heard more footsteps, more unsheathing of blades, more soft voices like curses whispering his name. He wiped the blood off his face and turned to face them.
The smoke gave way to another figure who slid forward, alive, like a panther.
She unsheathed two daggers, their wicked edges more honed than any other knives in this chamber of mirrors and firelight.
Her face was inscrutable, but Kael knew her.
Selis.
They had trained together.
She had been his nearest competition, his partner in every sense.
And now she was here to do him in.
"Kael," the woman said, her voice soothing, devoid of feeling. "Don't make me do this."
"Then don't." He gripped his sword tighter as his pulse pounded.
She sighed. "You know I have to."
Then she struck.
Her daggers were a whirling storm of death. Kael could barely hold his own against him, parrying, rolling, and countering. She was relentless, pushing harder than any competitor had before him.
The air was filled with the sound of metal clashing.
Their blades clashed again and again, sparks flying.
A thin gash opened over Kael's cheek. Another sliced his forearm.
He was losing ground, his body battered and bloody already. But he couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop.
Selis faked left and then turned right.
Kael hardly had time to step aside, but she was quicker, her knee colliding in his gut with a force that sent him tumbling.
His sword fell out of his hands, skimming along the blood-slicked stone.
She towered over him, one dagger held aloft.
"Goodbye, Kael."
He moved on instinct. His hand sprang up, catching her wrist before the dagger could sink into his heart. He grunted and pulled her forward, twisting their bodies so that he was on top of her. His other hand reached for his last dagger and plunged it into her belly.
Her eyes went wide, and she gasped.
Blood bubbled from her lips as she looked at him, something like regret passing through her eyes.
"You. should have run.", she murmured.
Kael swallowed with difficulty, breath coming in spurts.
He had no words.
Nothing except the weight of another life taken by his hands.
He righted himself, stumbling back as Selis coughed one time, then grew still.
Her unfocused eyes were lewdly locked on him, and he could not turn away.
More footsteps. More enemies.
He was running like he was faster than time.
He put aside his pain and picked up his sword, running.
Not concentrating, he threaded the alleys, heavy of limb, fuzzy of sight. He needed to get out of there, out of sight, before all of Shadowborne could uncrush everything in its path.
But when he rounded the next corner, he skidded to a stop.
A figure stood in his path.
A very tall, imposing figure in dark armor with a sword languidly draped over his shoulder. His golden eyes, wide and unwavering, fell on Kael, followed slowly by a smug smirk.
Darius.
Kael's blood turned to ice. His elder brother. His executioner.
"Running, little brother?" Darius mused. "How disappointing. I expected more from you."
Kael gripped his sword tightly, every muscle in him begging for rest. But he had no choice.
Darius laughed and stepped forward.
No more games.
No more running.
This ends tonight.
Kael steadied his breath over the dread like a wind over a hurricane, his gut twisted with curling fear.
Then Darius lunged.
Kael barely had time to register the shine of metal before it struck him and the world turned to night.