Katherine:

Her heart pounded in her chest as adrenaline surged through her veins.

The small, dimly lit room seemed to close in around her as panic gripped the young woman’s senses. Katherine’s gaze darted towards the door with a mind racing with thoughts of escape, but her magically inept body betrayed her intentions.

Before she could take a single step, the princess’ friend moved with an almost preternatural swiftness towards her. Katherine couldn’t move a muscle.

In the narrow hallway, the tension thickened. The seer reached back snaking around the hilt of his gleaming dagger.

Her hands clenched, knuckles turning white as the truth settled in.

He had lied to her. The weight of that realization bore down on her, a crushing force that threatened to consume her. Katherine’s sense of betrayal mingled with the fear that coiled in her stomach like a serpent.

But the pendulum of fate was about to swing once more.

Time seemed to slow as the trajectory of the knife became a deadly arc aimed at Katherine’s heart.

In that harrowing instant, she caught a glimpse of Veritas’ eyes, the once confident smile faded to a mask of grim determination. In a stunning reversal, Veritas pivoted, his grip on the dagger tightening with a feral intensity.

The blade flashed in the dim light as it found its mark, ready to pierce the tattoo on the Rider Leaders' neck. However, he wasn't able to complete the job.

A gasp escaped the woman’s lips as the world seemed to shatter and reshape itself in the wake of a violent collision.

The air trembled with the force of an impending explosion, and the ground quivered beneath their feet.

The bunker erupted in a deafening crescendo, a maelstrom of sound and fury that tore through the confines of the space. Bodies were thrown to the ground as the shockwave rippled through the air, shattering the perfect moment that had teetered on the precipice of completion.

Yet, their adversary was caught off guard, the chaos revealing the chink in their armor. Veritas emerged from the turmoil unscathed, his lithe form coiling like a spring as he lunged forward with renewed purpose. The world seemed to move in fragments, disjointed and surreal, as Katherine fought to regain her footing. Time was a merciless foe, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand, and she knew she was running out of it.

Desperation lent her strength, her body propelling her upwards, but she couldn’t get get up in time.

The blade found its mark, biting into the leader’s flesh with a searing agony that stole her breath away. Blood blossomed in crimson beads, staining her clothes, as Veritas pulled back, his eyes fixed on her in a chilling gaze.

His eyes were redder than a cherry apple. Amid the chaos, her gaze flickered to their fallen adversary, the leader who had orchestrated this deadly ballet. Clutching her wound, eyes wide with shock, the leader’s defiance wavered in the face of mortality.

The leader’s voice trembled, the words a haunting echo that reverberated in the chamber, “No one can desert us and survive.”

And then, in a cruel twist of fate, she crumpled to the floor, life extinguished in a final moment.

Katherine stared at the still figure on the ground, feeling a mix of horror and confusion. Veritas' face was unreadable, his emotions hidden behind a blank expression. He pulled the blade from the fallen woman with a detached precision, leaving Katherine's mind racing.

They had to keep moving. The realization that Veritas hadn't betrayed her brought a small comfort, but trust between them was fragile and strained.

He could have killed the Leader in so many ways. Why this one?

And what was that explosion? Was everyone above okay?

“How do we get out of this…ditch?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

“Alec is waiting. We need him now more than ever.”

Accepting the reality, she tried to climb the debris, but Veritas stopped her with a firm grip.

Frustration bubbled up as she yelled at him, “Veritas, let me go!”

He tightened his hold and pointed at the lifeless body. For a moment, his tough exterior cracked, a single tear slipping down his cheek.

Katherine grimaced, suddenly feeling guilty.

She stepped closer, wanting to offer comfort to the man who usually seemed so strong.

“Veritas, dealing with what we've done is never easy. Remember, we had no other choice,” she whispered.

He nodded, wiping away the tear. The night's horrors weighed heavily on her too, and she struggled to find words. After a moment of shared silence, they decided to leave the body where it was.

It was a sight that would haunt them both.

Deep inside, Katherine made a solemn vow – she would never take a life.

But she had no idea how difficult that promise would be to keep.

“Veritas, let’s get out of here,” she said, trying to sound confident.

He nodded, and they left, searching for their other companion. There were shouts up above, and she really hoped it was the reinforcements.

Alaric:

Alaric raced back to the burning building, its once-silent interior now alive with the coordinated movements and barked orders of the Rebels. He wasted no time, scanning his surroundings for the stairs that he and Veritas had seen from before– the direct path into the ornate communications room. His gaze locked onto a ladder amidst the chaos, surrounded by craters and treacherous holes. He navigated carefully, avoiding the pitfalls that threatened to send him plummeting. As he descended the ladder, the frenzy around him seemed to blur, his urgency eclipsing the havoc.

In his haste, Alaric’s palms met a few burning, scorching rungs, making pain shooting through his hands. Grunting through the discomfort, he reached the ground and instinctively clutched his singed palms, his focus narrowing. Before he could begin his search for his companions, a pair of arms enveloped him, momentarily pulling him from his discomfort.

“Are you okay?”

Katherine’s voice cut through the chaos, concern etched in her features. Alaric turned to face her, his expression a mixture of gratitude and surprise. The arms that had embraced him retreated, leaving him slightly disoriented. Veritas stood nearby, his posture unsettled, his eyes brimming with an unusual emotion. Were those tears?

Alaric’s concern overpowered his pain. “Veritas! Are you alright? Katherine, have you seen him?”

Katherine nodded, her eyes mirroring Veritas’ unspoken turmoil. It was a sight Alaric couldn’t quite fathom.

“Are your lips bleeding?” Katherine asked.

Alaric quickly touched his lips. “Don't worry about it.” He replied.

They rushed towards Veritas’ still body.

“Veritas, what’s wrong?” The prince asked. Their friend remained unresponsive, prompting Katherine to intervene.

“Come with me,” she beckoned, guiding Alaric away from the turmoil.

They found refuge behind a set of stairs, where a grim tableau awaited him. A woman lay bleeding on the floor, a knife embedded in her neck. Katherine averted her gaze, her distress palpable.

She returned to Veritas, leaving Alaric standing there, his thoughts racing.

Veritas’ gaze remained distant as he finally stood up and spoke, but it didn’t seem addressed to Alaric at all. “I was a Rider, Katherine. I belonged to them once. But when I got promoted, instead of making me hunt wild animals, they forced me to hunt people. Later, our village burned, and my family was slaughtered by those I had once called comrades. I was their prey too. Today, I broke my convictions and lifted the knife against another person.”

Alaric shook his head. “Remember, when you take a life for the first time, it’s your responsibility to bear it. Acknowledge the act, but remember you were left with no real choice.”

Veritas chuckled. “Choice? Well, Katherine, I owe you an apology. I was betrayed, and it seems that a part of me wanted to make that woman feel the same way.”

"Although I'm pissed at you for scaring me that much, I can't fault you for that."

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Veritas wiped away his tears, his demeanor shifting back to normal. His transformation seemed jarring, but Alaric chose to give him the space he needed.

“They’ve arrived. What’s our plan, Alec?” Veritas’ said with his classic monotone.

“I'll meet them. We can explain that you and Katherine took care of her and got the information,” The swordsman asserted.

"About that..."

Alaric looked at the two of them, seeing them suddenly become shy.

"What? You didn't listen to their meeting?"

Katherine looked at Veritas, who looked down.

“I don’t want to face the Rebels, and neither does Veritas,” Katherine continued.

Alaric let out a resigned sigh.

“Alright, fine. I’ll make something up and handle it alone then.”

Veritas chimed in, his expression serious as he turned back to Alaric. “But Alec, stay vigilant. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

After searching for a while, Alaric finally found the Rebellion. Amidst the sea of phoenix-uniformed rebels, he spotted Richard and Fitzgerald. He also recognized John and Joan, the two Rebellion attackers from the bar who were friends with Richard.

Fitzgerald turned back and said, “Ah, Alec. Did you find the information?”

Alaric nodded, but Fitzgerald waved it off. “It can wait until we handle damage control. Go down with everyone.”

As Alaric began to comply, he noticed the others forming a protective circle around him as they descended into the dark passages.

Richard approached him and said, “You did a good job.” But before Alaric could respond, he stepped back quickly.

They moved cautiously through the shadowy tunnels, the walls damp and slick with moisture. The air was thick with the scent of earth and decay, and their footsteps echoed softly, mingling with the distant sound of dripping water. Shadows flickered and danced with each step, creating an almost otherworldly atmosphere.

Suddenly, John’s voice rang out, cutting through the darkness like a knife. “I’ll kill you, Prince!” he growled, his voice filled with venom and hatred.

Alaric barely had time to register the threat before Fitzgerald appeared behind John, moving with the deadly grace of a predator. In one swift, fluid motion, he drove a weapon into John’s chest. The sound of the blade piercing flesh was sickening, and John’s eyes widened in shock. He crumpled to the ground, blood gushing from the wound and pooling around him, its dark sheen catching the faint light from the tunnel.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. The only sounds were John’s ragged breaths and the soft dripping of blood. Fitzgerald, expressionless, wiped his blade clean and looked at Alaric, a silent message passing between them in the dim light.

Only Richard looked back and muttered, “I always told him to get his anger under control.”

As Alaric processed the shocking turn of events, Fitzgerald addressed the group, “That was treason. The prince is still missing.”

In that moment, Alaric realized the true peril he was in. They had overheard him from before the explosion and now wanted to kill him for the throne.

Raising his voice, Alaric said, “I’ll lead you to the hidden rooms. The secret entrance is a bit hard to spot.”

He showed them the way to the hidden chamber next to the water spring and beneath the stairs, pulling the torch to reveal the space that concealed their gruesome trophy. The flickering light cast ominous shadows on the walls, highlighting the macabre contents of the chamber. As the last few people were entering, Alaric seized his chance. He pushed them aside, switched the lever to close the door, and sprinted back up the dark stairs, the sound of the closing mechanism echoing behind him.

Bursting into the corridor, he dashed across the main floor, his footsteps a rapid staccato against the stone, and out into the open plains. The night air was cool against his sweat-soaked skin, offering a brief, refreshing relief. The sounds of yelling and confusion echoed from below as those he had locked inside realized what had happened.

Alaric pushed through the thick brush, branches scratching at his arms and legs, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat loud in his ears. He didn't dare look back, focusing only on reaching the dense cover of the forest ahead. The trees loomed closer, their dark forms promising safety and concealment. Finally, he plunged into the forest, the shadows enveloping him as he continued to run, determined to put as much distance as possible between himself and the chamber below.

Just as he was about to pivot and make his way back to his shelter, Alaric stumbled over a gnarled tree root, crashing headlong into someone’s arms. The collision was abrupt, sending leaves rustling and small creatures scurrying away. He was momentarily engulfed in the scent of pine and earth, and the firm grip of the person holding him steadied his fall.

They were dressed in a black robe with no hood, the fabric blending seamlessly with the shadows of the forest. Alaric's eyes widened as he recognized the piercing deep purple eyes staring back at him, the distinctive single earring glinting in the moonlight, and the classic silver hair catching the faint glow.

The figure quickly stepped back, clearly startled, releasing Alaric who barely managed to regain his balance. The surrounding forest seemed to hold its breath, the only sound the rustling of leaves above and the distant call of a night bird.

Alaric steadied himself and looked up. “We meet again,” he said breathlessly, his voice carrying a mix of surprise and relief.

It was the assassin from before.

“Not hiding your gender anymore?” he asked, slightly surprised, noticing that the hood was gone.

She gave a dismissive puff, but then looked at him expectantly.

“Look, I really don’t have time for this right now,” Alaric said. “I’m kind of in a rush.”

Her voice was airy and oddly melodic as she suddenly said, “My name is Silva.”

Alaric blinked, a bit confused by the unexpected introduction. “Uh, okay…?”

“Alaric, we are on your side. We will end the Raven Cult, avenge the one’s from Katherine’s village and make sure that the Riders don't hurt any more people. I didn't make it clear last time.”

Whoever she worked with also knew he was the true prince. It was a disaster.

“Okay…but I really need to…”

“We will take care of them. However, will you promise to never give up on your goal?”

“What goal?”

“Like you said, cleaning the grime on the Crown. Avenging your family. Making sure that every person with that Raven Crest on their shoulder goes to Hell. Will you promise to do so?”

Alaric’s eyes suddenly burned with an unnatural fire. “I will, but I don't need your help to do that.”

“We know. So, let us give you the information you crave, and you decide what you want to do with it.”

Before Alaric could sputter out his disagreement, Silva’s fingers closed around a small, ancient-looking coin as she drew it from her pocket. The coin was made of a dull, dark metal, worn smooth by time. Its edges were irregular, as if it had been hastily forged or had withstood centuries of handling. On one side, a night raven was intricately engraved, its wings partially spread as if in mid-flight. The bird’s eyes seemed to glint with a mysterious intelligence, and each feather was detailed with remarkable precision.

“That…coin.”

“Trust me, Prince of Lutra. Trust me, because this is the only way we can get revenge for our families.”

Alaric cursed under his breath. The offer was too alluring to refuse. He could think about the implications later. “Very well, Silva. I promise. But what is your wish? Why do you serve…”

Before he could finish, Silva bowed deeply, and in an instant, the three purple lights from their earlier duel flared up, blinding him with their intensity.

When the light dimmed and his vision cleared, Silva was gone. Alaric scanned the area frantically, calling out her name, but there was no sign of her. The forest around him seemed to mock his confusion with its stillness. He muttered to himself about dramatic exits, the words barely audible over the soft rustle of leaves in the night breeze.

“I couldn't even give her the gift I bought…”

Yet, deep down, a part of him couldn't shake the feeling that something extraordinary had just occurred.

???:

A woman with a black robe rubbed her silver hair, groaning dramatically. “It's so annoying to take the dye off every time we see the Lady.”

Silva looked at her with a hint of disdain tinted with a bit of amusement. “You know the rules, Astrid. The fact that the Lady even allowed you to dye it red was surprising to me.”

Astrid took a hand and made it into a fox, imitating her voice. “Astrid, you are so disrespectful with that flashy red hair. We are the Silver Roses, and she is the Red Lady.”

Silva scoffed. “I don't sound like that.”

"Besides, the hair is pink, not red. But whatever." Astrid jumped up, her red eyes emitting waves of fire. “I guess it's time to cover his tracks.”

Silva stopped her. “You don't want to know what he said to our Lady’s proposal?”

Astrid rolled her eyes, taking out the fox again. “The prince’s mind was so one-sided, I could see right through it. Our Lady is truly wonderful, no, marvelous.”

“...You got me there.”

“Hah!”

Silva quickly adjusted her gold moon earring, nodding at Astrid. Astrid’s face quickly switched to one of grim determination as she nodded back.

They both uttered a cry in unison. “Varek Zynar, dorik stelar!”

In an instant, Astrid’s eyes blazed with fiery intensity, transforming into twin orbs of flame. Around her, three spheres of fire manifested, swirling with a fierce energy that crackled in the air. Silva’s eyes, in stark contrast, turned a mesmerizing shade of purple, deep and otherworldly, as three ethereal orbs of purple light formed around her, pulsing with a mysterious glow.

Silva turned to Astrid, her voice calm but firm. “Remember, the Lady told us not to kill. Use your fire to burn their memories of our magic and the prince instead.”

“How about the ore that the Kingdom is mining?”

“Make something up.”

“Got it.”

They surged forward toward the hundreds of guards of the Rebellion, all clad in their phoenix uniforms.

“Cage Series: Amethyst,” Silva whispered, putting a finger to her lips.

The ground trembled violently as purple spikes erupted, trapping every single guard in shimmering cages. Even The Eleventh Member and Richard, despite their efforts, found the amethyst bars unbreakable.

Astrid snapped her fingers together.

“Starflame Legacy Series: Ashes!"

Immediately, the air was filled with the agonizing screams of the Rebellion soldiers. Flames engulfed their minds, burning away specific memories while leaving their bodies unharmed. One by one, the guards collapsed unconscious.

“They will believe that the North Warden harvests Luminita, something I just made up, Ore, but they won’t know what its use is,” Astrid told her, her voice resolute.

Silva clenched her hands, and the purple orbs vanished, causing the amethyst cages to disintegrate and drop everyone to the floor. Stepping forward, Silva touched Astrid with a white stone, and a portal opened itself in front of them.

“Silva, don't fall in love with Alaric,” Astrid commented.

Silva turned to her in confusion, which slowly turned to a light blush. “I would never. Our Lady…”

Astrid sighed, cracking her knuckles. “To be honest, I almost did myself. Of course, after he took his shirt off right in front of me.”

Silva slowly turned even more red and Astrid laughed in response.

A moment later, the silver-haired mages disappeared, leaving the battlefield eerily silent and littered with the unconscious forms of the Rebellion.