Savage Crown

Chapter 1

Seraphina

The scent of blood and smoke clings to the air as I run.

The city is alive tonight, a beast of stone and shadow, watching me with hungry eyes as I weave through its streets. The moons hang bloated and heavy overhead, their silver glow licking at the black spires of the dark elf capital. 

My breath is ragged, each inhale burning my lungs as I duck beneath an archway, pressing myself into the alcove’s damp stone.

I count the seconds between my heartbeats. One. Two. Three. Footsteps echo in the alley behind me, slow and deliberate.

They know.

I press a hand against the satchel strapped across my chest, feeling the stolen parchment crinkle beneath my touch. This piece of paper—it’s nothing and everything. A scrap of ink and vellum, yet it might be the key to my freedom… if I can live long enough to use it.

A voice cuts through the night, sharp as a blade.

“She was here. Find her.”

I recognize that voice. Kiernan. One of Lartina’s dogs. If he catches me, I won’t make it to sunrise.

I slip further into the shadows, pressing my body against the wall. My clothes are damp with sweat, my skin raw from the chase. My heart slams against my rib cage as I listen to the patter of boots on stone, the whispered hisses of dark elves speaking in their guttural tongue.

“Check the rooftops,” another voice growls.

Shit.

I don’t have the luxury to hesitate. As soon as the footsteps retreat, I bolt. My boots slap against the uneven ground as I sprint toward the nearest stack of crates. I leap, catching the lip of a sagging awning, and haul myself up just as a patrol turns the corner.

A sliver of moonlight betrays me.

“There!”

The shout rips through the night, and then they’re after me—three, maybe four dark elves. Their armor doesn’t clank; their movements are swift and deadly, but I’ve lived my entire life outrunning monsters. My legs burn as I propel myself higher, scaling the side of a crumbling building, my fingers scrabbling against the slick, moss-slicked stone.

Arrows snap against the rooftop as I vault over the ledge, rolling to absorb the impact. My vision tilts, the world spinning for a beat before I push back onto my feet and run.

I won’t make it to the outer gates.

They’ll expect that route. Every exit from the city will be guarded, and I’ll be dead before I even make it past the checkpoints. I need a different way out. I need a ghost.

Rylan.

His name slithers through my mind like a whispered incantation, a promise and a curse. He’s not a man you find—he finds you. But I have something he wants, and for once, I might have enough leverage to make him listen.

A shadow moves in my periphery. Too late.

A hand snags my wrist, yanking me back so fast my vision explodes with stars.

“Got you, little thief.”

I wrench free and spin, driving my knee into my attacker’s stomach. Kiernan grunts, but his grip tightens like an iron vice. I snarl, twisting, trying to break free, but he’s stronger, his dark elven strength coiling around me like a serpent.

“You made a mistake,” he breathes against my ear, his fingers digging into my arms. “Lady Lartina is eager to speak with you.”

My stomach clenches. I would rather die than be dragged back.

Kiernan doesn’t expect me to smile.

His grip falters for half a second. I throw my full weight back, knocking him off balance. As we stumble, I twist my body and sink my teeth into the soft flesh of his wrist. He curses, his grip loosening just enough for me to break free.

I don’t hesitate. My dagger is in my hand before I even register drawing it. One quick slash.

Blood spills between us.

Kiernan lets out a strangled gasp, clutching his arm as crimson leaks between his fingers. His expression twists with rage.

I run.

Down the side of the building, over the edge of the rooftops, into the underbelly of the city where the filth runs thick and the desperate hide among the ruins.

The slums. Rylan’s hunting ground.

I push through the narrow alleyways, my breath a harsh rasp in my throat. The stone walls press in, suffocating, endless, but I know this place. I know where he lurks.

The Midnight Den.

I slip into the shadows of a forgotten corridor, my body trembling with exhaustion. The Den is close—an unassuming door hidden in a maze of ruined buildings. No signs, no markings, but the air tastes of danger and ink, of secrets waiting to be sold.

I stagger forward, knocking once.

Silence.

Twice.

The air shifts. I feel him before I see him.

Then the door opens, and Rylan steps out of the darkness.

His emerald eyes flick over me, unreadable. The scent of him hits me—smoke, leather, something darker.

"You're bleeding," he says, his voice low and amused. "Trouble, little human?"

I force myself to stand straighter, though my body screams in protest. I raise my chin.

"I have something you want."

A slow smirk curves his lips, dangerous and knowing.

"Do you now?"

I hold up the satchel, letting the moonlight graze the stolen parchment. His gaze sharpens, his amusement vanishing.

"Let me in, Rylan." My voice is raw, edged with exhaustion and desperation. "We need to talk."

For a moment, he only watches me, considering. Without a word, he steps aside, allowing the darkness to swallow me whole.

I walk willingly into the wolf’s den.