The torches in the stone corridor flickered, casting jagged shadows against the walls. Kiaran moved with the silent stealth of a wraith, each step measured, each breath deliberate. The past hours of events churned within him, a storm of betrayal, uncertainty, and growing fury. He had glimpsed cracks in the guild's foundation but now saw the fissures for what they were—gaping holes threatening to swallow them all.

He came to the central chamber, where the plotting of the council had reached its climax. Between him and the plotters lay only a thin wooden door. Kiaran hesitated, his fingers tracing the coarse wood. The faint hum of voices came through the cracks, their words indistinguishable. He put his ear to the door, his heart pounding like a war drum.

"We must act soon," Lysander's commanding voice urged. "Kiaran's power grows unchecked, and the guild cannot withstand the chaos he invites."

Another voice chimed in, this one Kiaran identified as belonging to the dark-robed council member. "If we delay, he'll cement his influence. Already, some question our authority. This relic—this *curse*—must be severed from him before it's too late."

Kiaran set his jaw. The relic was such a part of him that their words stung like an assault on his very being. His fists balled up, metal vambraces digging into his palms. Their betrayal was not only an insult, it was war.

He steadied himself and took a step back from the door. He was going to need more than anger to face them off. He needed allies; allies he could trust.

The training yard was empty, the night's chill seeping into the stone. There was no clash of blades and no shouted orders to break the silence. It was here he'd called them: the handful within the guild he could still trust.

Eira was the first out of the shadows. She had a pale face which wasn't entirely visible under the hood. Her eyes met his; the same mixture of defiance and concern that had made her so attractive to him was written all over her face.

"You are quite sure about this?" she asked, her voice so low it was little above a whisper. "If they catch us conspiring—

"They already plot against me," Kiaran interrupted, his voice rising sharper than he'd intended. He relaxed at the furrow of her brow. "I can't do this alone, Eira. If we don't act now, they'll take everything from me—my relic, my freedom, maybe even my life."

She nodded hesitantly. "I'm with you. Always."

Soon after, two more figures joined them. Ronan Blackwood, the rogue whose cunning had saved Kiaran more than once, approached with his usual nonchalance. His dark eyes sparkled with mischief, though the tension in his posture betrayed his unease.

"Stirring up trouble again, Kiaran?" he quipped. "I was just starting to enjoy the relative calm."

“Calm is a lie,” Kiaran said grimly. “The guild’s leaders are conspiring to strip me of my relic. They see me as a threat, and they’re right—but not for the reasons they think.”

Ronan smirked, drawing a blade from his belt and examining its edge. “Well, I’ve always enjoyed siding with the underdog. Count me in.”

Lysander Rune was the last, Kiaran's former enemy turned ally. His was the chanciest of presences: though he had been supportive in the past, nothing about him was ever fully clear.

"You've elected a rather curious course of action, Kiaran," Lysander said, his tone level. "Gathering discontent in the guild—brash, but foolhardy."

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"Are you with us, or against us?" Kiaran snapped, his own temper wearing thin.

Lysander smiled weakly. "With you, at least, for now. And only because the council's paranoia blinds them to the real danger we are faced with."

With his allies beside him, Kiaran sketched out his plan. The council would reconvene the next few days, ostensibly to discuss guild business. That was when Kiaran would strike, revealing their duplicity and forcing their hand. To do that, however, he needed more than words; he needed leverage.

We will hit at their core," Kiaran said, his voice cold and measured. "The council feeds on fear and control. We'll tear both apart."

Ronan's grin grew even wider. "How do we do that?"

Kiaran's eyes had a dangerous light to them. "The archives. They have records of every secret, every wrong deed locked away in the vaults. If we can dig up evidence of their corruption, it will undermine their stranglehold on the guild.

Eira's face clouded over. "The archives are guarded by several dozen guards. If we get caught…

"We won't be," Kiaran said, though the weight of the risk was not lost on him. "This is our only chance."

This was the journey to the archives, tense with danger. The corridors had no apparent end; shadows were threatening possibilities. Kiaran led the way, walking in a silent predator's manner. Eira, Ronan, and Lysander followed behind him with their drawn arms.

They came to the vault door, a massive mass of iron and runes. Kiaran looked upon the intricate symbols; their meaning was a haze of ancient magic and lost tongues. He could feel the power of the relic stirring inside him, a dark beat that seemed to resonate with the runes.

"I will do this," he said, putting his hand on the door.

The relic's power flowed through him, burning hot and scorching against his skin. The runes shone bright with their fierce resistance. But Kiaran's will was stronger. With a final push, the door groaned open to reveal the archives beyond.

The room was vast, with shelves stretching out into the darkness. Scrolls, tomes, and ledgers filled every corner, holding secrets to be uncovered. Kiaran's heart pounded in his chest as he started to search, his hands moving with urgency.

"Focus on the council," he instructed. "We need proof of their corruption.

It seemed hours passed as they scanned through the files, but frustration only grew because Kiaran wouldn't quit. At this point, Eira drew in air and pushed forward a scroll.

"This one," she said, the words quivering. "A ledger of bribes and payments made to forces external. They've been with mercenaries for the acquisition of these positions."

He unfolded the scroll, his gaze scanning over the damning proof. A grim smile appeared on his lips. "This is it. This is what we need."

But they did not have much to gloat over. Footsteps echoed through the corridor. Closer and closer with every beat of a second. Kiaran's heart sunk.

"We've been found," Lysander said, his voice unreadable.

Kiaran's brain ran. They could not let themselves get captured-not now. "Eira, take this scroll and go. Ronan, keep her clear of it all. Lysander and I will give them time enough."

Eira blinked as worry filled her eyes. "Kiaran—"

"Go!"

She did, holding the scroll tight. She disappeared into darkness, going. Ronan trailed along behind her; he positioned himself, knives out ready to cut his pursuers off.

Kiaran turned to Lysander, his face iron hard. "Ready?"

Lysander smiled and produced his sword. "Always."

The door shuddered apart and chaos burst into the room. Guards rushed in, their swords flashing. Kiaran and Lysander fought in unison, their motions fluid, the dance of steel and strategy perfectly in place. The power of the relic flowed through Kiaran as each strike went in full of unnatural power.

But there were more of them. For every guard they lost, two more came to replace him. The battle raged, the stench of metal on metal, and cries from the injured filling the air.

"Kiaran," Lysander said, his voice straining. "We can't keep holding them."

Kiaran set his jaw. "We don't have to."

Then with one last crushing blow he hurled a shock wave through the chamber, relic power waves out and the guards stumble, dazed for just a moment.

"Now!" Kiaran shouted as he-and Lysander, themselves darted into the shadows, the guards didn't even have a chance to hit the ground before they all collapsed.

Hours passed, after Kiaran reunited himself with Eira and Ronan in secluded hide-out. The scroll lay among them, its content was just a beacon of hope for them.

“This is just the beginning,” Kiaran said, his voice low but firm. “The council thinks they can control me, but they’ve underestimated what I’m willing to do.”

Eira placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch grounding him. “We’ll face them together.”

Kiaran's eyes hardened. The road ahead would not be easy, but he no longer stood alone. Together, hand in hand, they would tear the council down and forge a new future-one where no one ever dared to question his power again.