Chapter 1

Selene

I slip through Orthani’s Lowtown under the faded glow of greenish lanterns, hugging the shadows with each step. My heart pounds a low, steady rhythm, but outwardly I appear calm—just another face in this wretched district where humans are herded like stray animals. At first glance, no one would suspect what I really am. Tonight, that deception is everything.

The air is thick with the stench of sweat, rotting, and the desperation of those trapped in the slums. Narrow alleys twist between leaning structures of battered stone. I hear muttered curses behind doors, see hooded shapes darting along crooked paths, and sense the prying eyes of exhausted laborers too broken to protest my presence. Most humans here are used to cruelty. They can spot the differences among themselves in an instant: who’s free, who’s a slave, who’s a willing collaborator with the dark elves. But I’m not one of them. I’m an intruder, and if any guard suspects me, I’ll end up gutted in a back alley or dragged to Orthani’s dungeons to face a worse fate.

My disguise is painstaking. I’ve adopted a height that matches a malnourished local, a slightly hunched posture, even the faint smell of soot clinging to my worn clothes. My dark hair is tangled on purpose, braided in a messy coil at the base of my skull. I even smeared dust on my sun-kissed arms to appear duller, less radiant than a real purna would. It takes a careful hand to camouflage the arcane markings that trace faint lines over my ribs—my birthright, but also a death sentence in this city if discovered.

Orthani. The dark elf capital, seat of merciless lords who view humans and purna as tools or vermin. They built their grandeur on the backs of people forced into thankless labor. And I, a purna, walk straight into their den. They don’t see me for what I am. The battered cloak wrapped over my shoulders might help me vanish into the gloom, but I’m aware that magic throbs beneath my skin, like a potent brew ready to overflow if pressed. It always does that when I’m close to real danger.

I duck under a crooked wooden awning, peering across a cramped courtyard. A cluster of humans stands around a flickering brazier. They’re whispering about bread rations or extra shifts at some workshop. I sense their fear but also their resignation. My gut clenches at the sight of so much hopelessness.

A rumble from overhead draws my attention. Magic-lamps strung along ancient walls flicker with an unsettling glow. Dark elves pay no mind to the meager lighting in these slums. They prefer to keep humans in half-shadow, the better to remind them of their insignificance. But that’s not my immediate concern. My reason for being here is far more vital than a few pitiful lamps or the gloom that blankets these alleys.

Aiseth—Ai. She’s the newly awakened purna I’ve been sent to find. Word reached the Red Purna that Ai manifested her powers abruptly three days ago, nearly burning a row of storage buildings. The elves would kill to get their hands on her. Or worse, they’d keep her alive for their sadistic experiments. I can’t let that happen.

A sense of urgency churns inside me, but caution tempers every movement. The last thing I want is to reveal myself. This mission was meant to be swift: slip in, retrieve Ai, slip out. I cling to that plan, yet something about how the Red Purna arranged all this nags at me. Our communication was too simple, the instructions too vague. The entire operation feels suspiciously convenient. There’s a whisper in the corner of my mind that we—Ai and I—are being served up as bait.

I press my fingers against my skirt, feeling the worn dagger I keep strapped beneath the fabric. It’s not my best weapon, but it’ll do in a pinch. My real arsenal, my magic, stays coiled deep within me, ready to ignite if threatened. The risk is high; a single slip could alert any psionically trained dark elf in these streets. But I’m prepared to fight if cornered.

Across the way, a scrawny child scampers behind a rickety cart, rummaging for scraps. Her eyes flick toward me, meeting my gaze for a second. There’s a flicker of curiosity, then she returns to her search for something to eat. No alarm, no shriek that I’m suspicious. Good.

I hurry onward, crossing a narrow walkway that slopes downward. Crumbling steps lead into an older section of Lowtown, where houses cluster around a central courtyard. A rancid ditch flows in the middle, emitting a nauseating odor. I cover my nose discreetly with a piece of cloth. The muffled reek sets my teeth on edge.

“Pssst.” A man’s voice hisses from a recessed doorway, barely audible over the ambient noise.

I tense but keep walking. He hisses again, insistent, “Girl. Over here.”

A flicker of reluctance battles with the knowledge that I might glean news of Ai’s whereabouts. I slow and lean toward the doorway, hood pulled low over my face. I see a man of average height, hair matted with dirt, wearing a frayed vest that’s two sizes too large. His eyes dart up and down the alley in a paranoid manner.

“You just off the boat? You looking for shelter or... a place to rest?” he asks in a hushed tone.

I tilt my head. “Shelter, yes. I’m new.”

He snorts, suspicion lacing his gaze. “No one’s new to Orthani’s Lowtown by choice. Unless you’re running from something. Or smuggling.” He studies me more closely.

I let out a soft scoff. “Running from an old debt, if you must know.”

He shakes his head. “If you need somewhere to hide, you can try The Leaning Steeple down the next row. A battered inn that occasionally rents beds, mostly to travelers who end up stranded. Pay in coin or favors, though. Sometimes the second is riskier.”

“Understood.” I hand him a single copper piece. “Any rumors about... unusual folks? Those rumored to have some magic?”

His eyes flicker, then he shrugs. “Word on the street is a young girl was spotted conjuring sparks near the old mill. She vanished after that. People say the elves are sniffing around for her, but no one’s seen her in two nights.” He lowers his voice. “If you’re wise, you’ll steer clear. The elves don’t spare anyone who gets involved.”

My pulse stutters. “Thank you.”

He slides back into the darkness of the doorway, probably returning to whatever shadowy deals keep him alive. I continue forward, stepping over soggy planks bridging a filthy puddle. The mention of a young girl with sparks is enough to confirm Ai was indeed spotted. I need more specifics, but at least I have a direction: near the old mill.

The gloom thickens as I approach a decaying archway. Painted letters, half peeled away by time, read The Leaning Steeple. Under the wavering lamplight, the building leans at a precarious angle, as if hammered by centuries of neglect. Music or something that passes for it trickles from inside, along with drunken voices. I push through the squealing door and step into the dusty common room.

The odor of stale ale mingles with the tang of cheap perfume. Dim sconces along the walls cast flickering shadows that make it difficult to see who’s lurking in the corners. Humans huddle around battered tables, sipping watery drinks. A few might be half-elves or other outcasts—anyone with nowhere else to go in Orthani.

I straighten my spine, ignoring the curious stares. The innkeeper, a tall woman with fierce lines on her face, gestures me over. I approach slowly, noting how her gaze sweeps my ragged attire and the tension in my stance.

She doesn’t bother with pleasantries. “Need a bed?”

“I might, though I’m short on coin,” I say softly. “Word is the old mill’s unsafe at night. I was hoping to ask around about that.”

Her lips twist. “The old mill’s always unsafe. The elves root out trouble there. If you’re looking to sleep indoors, it’ll cost you two coppers. If you’re fishing for rumors—” She lowers her tone— “I’d advise caution.”

“Two coppers is fine.” I pass her the money and lean in. “I heard about a girl. Came here, maybe?”

The innkeeper presses her lips together, as if waging an internal battle. At last, she jerks her chin toward a hallway. “Down the back corridor, second door. The occupant was here two nights ago. She left in a hurry. I wasn’t paid enough to ask questions.”

A flicker of relief loosens the knot in my stomach. “Thank you.”

I take the worn key she offers and head down the corridor. It’s narrow, the walls stained with uncertain smears. A faint musty scent lingers in the air. The second door squeaks open under my gentle push. I step inside, adjusting my eyes to the gloom. An unlit lamp rests on a rickety table, and the single window is shuttered tight.

I allow myself a moment to examine the modest space. A straw-filled mattress on the floor, a broken chair, a small chest. No personal items remain, no clothing or scraps of fabric. If Ai truly stayed here, she left in haste. The adrenaline that’s been simmering in my veins spikes. The elves might have forced her out, or she fled on her own.

I crouch near the mattress, running my fingertips over the dingy blankets. A faint prickle of energy sparks under my skin—residual magic, like a fading echo. Ai’s presence lingers here, fleeting but unmistakable. She must be scared. Possibly wounded. I shut my eyes, allowing my psionic senses to expand. Nothing concrete emerges, only the sensation of fear woven into these sheets.

I stand and pace to the window, unlatching the shutter to peer outside. The alley behind the inn is deserted, except for a stray cat rummaging in a refuse pile. Not a single human or dark elf in sight, at least for now. My heart beats louder. I’m close but not close enough.

Footsteps scuffle in the corridor behind me. I stiffen. My hand curls around the hilt of my dagger.

A soft rap on the door, then the innkeeper’s voice trickles in. “Thought you might want this.” She slides a cracked lantern through the gap. “No extra charge, just don’t set my place on fire.”

I release a controlled exhale, accepting the lantern. “I appreciate it.”

She hesitates. “Look, I don’t want trouble. If you’re tangled up in this, do what you must and leave before you bring the elves to my doorstep.”

She’s worried. Rightly so. I give a curt nod. “I’ll be gone soon.”

She retreats, and the corridor falls silent once more. I lift the lantern, illuminating corners of the room. My gaze catches on the chest—old, chipped wood with a rusting lock. Something about it makes me curious. Perhaps Ai left a clue.

The lock yields to a bit of effort with a small pry-tool. Inside, I discover a tattered scrap of parchment and an empty pouch. The parchment bears a jagged symbol: the faint outline of a partial sun, or maybe a stylized crest. Beneath it, scribbled words read: “Under the water wheel. Aiseth. R.”

R. That must stand for the Red Purna contact, or so I assume. My breath stirs. Under the water wheel likely refers to the old mill’s water wheel, which stands on the outskirts of Lowtown, half-broken near a small canal. This clue is enough. Ai must’ve hidden there or planned to meet someone.

I burn with curiosity and apprehension. Why leave a coded note in a place so obvious? Everything about this mission reeks of a trap. But if Ai’s in danger, I have no choice except to proceed.

Lantern in hand, I slip from the room. Once I reach the inn’s main area, I nod at the innkeeper and hurry out. The street outside is quieter than before. A group of bleary-eyed humans leans against a wall, muttering about the next day’s labor quotas. On the horizon, the moon hangs low, painting the rooftops in silver.

I set my course toward the old mill. The path takes me through a winding sequence of narrower alleys. A cluster of half-collapsed stalls lines the route, remnants of a market that probably thrived decades ago. Now only splinters remain. My footsteps make almost no sound on the uneven stones—I’ve trained my entire life for stealth like this.

A flicker of movement at the side of my eyes puts me on edge. I pause behind a stack of rotting crates, focusing my senses. Two silhouettes appear near a lamppost across the way. A pair of dark elves, from their height and bearing. One has a curved blade at his hip, the other extends an elegant staff. They’re speaking in low tones, scanning the shadows as if searching for something.

My pulse pounds. If these are Orthani soldiers, I’m an instant away from discovery. Quietly, I reduce the light from my lantern, covering it with my cloak. From behind the crates, I can make out fragments of their conversation.

“—told the purna may be prowling these streets. If we find her—”

“We bring her to the commander. He wants her alive. The others demand a demonstration of loyalty.”

A demonstration of loyalty. My teeth clench. That means they’re working on orders from someone in Orthani’s chain of command, maybe a high-ranking officer or noble. Could it be Vaelith, or another figure with enough influence? I wrestle with the urge to vanish into the night, but I have to get Ai. This complicates everything.

I wait for them to move on, breath held tight, then slip down a sidestreet. The buildings become more dilapidated, their walls riddled with cracks and scorch marks. Evidently, Lowtown has endured brutal incidents. Possibly riots or forced relocations. My boots crunch over broken pottery. I keep my gaze sharp for any sign of watchers.

Eventually, I spot a squat structure looming at the far edge. The old mill stands silent, its once-mighty water wheel half-submerged in the stagnant canal. A rotted walkway stretches toward the wheel’s base. The entire scene exudes decay, from the slick algae clinging to the wood to the faint smell of mildew saturating the air.

I approach warily, each step on the walkway eliciting a groan from the boards. A single moonstruck reflection glistens off the canal’s murky surface, revealing the slow swirl of debris below. I pause at the spot where water spills lazily over broken sluices. The wheel sags, creaking with each erratic rotation.

Something moves beneath the water wheel—a flicker of motion. My heart stutters. I edge closer, careful not to let my boots slip. The stench of wet rot intensifies, but I push beyond it. If Ai’s hiding here, I need to confirm she’s alive.

Leaning over the railing, I see a small figure crouched on a ledge just above the waterline. Too dark to discern details, but I sense a presence that sparks faint ripples in my psionic awareness—like a muffled echo that calls to me. It must be Ai.

“Hey,” I whisper, voice as soft as I can manage.

She jolts, pressing back into the shadows. In the dim light, I catch the pale glint of her eyes.

“It’s alright.” I try to infuse calm into my tone. “I’m here to help.”

A tremor shudders through her slight frame. “Stay back,” she rasps. Her voice is high, pitched with a swirl of terror. “The elves—they’re hunting me.”

I set the lantern on the walkway, the flame turned low, then show my hands in a gesture of peace. “I’m not with them. I promise. I heard you might be in trouble.”

She blinks, possibly weighing whether to trust me. “Are... are you like me?”

My throat constricts. “Yes. In more ways than you know.” I check over my shoulder to ensure no one looms behind me. Then I kneel on the decrepit boards, bringing myself closer to her level. “We don’t have much time, Ai. The elves are searching these streets. If we stay here, they’ll find us.”

She swallows, eyes darting to the canal’s surface. “I can’t control my power. It flares up. I almost burned a house the other night. Now they want to lock me away... or worse.”

I reach out mentally, brushing just a whisper of reassurance over her mind. She startles but doesn’t recoil completely. “I can help you,” I say. “We can get out of Orthani—somewhere safer than Lowtown. But we have to leave now.”

A gust of wind rattles the walkway. I hear distant shouting, and my chest tightens. Over the rooftops, a faint orange glow hints at torches or magefire approaching from the main thoroughfare. A raid, perhaps. Exactly the kind of large-scale sweep Orthani loves to unleash whenever they suspect rebellious activity.

Ai’s eyes mirror my alarm. “They’re coming.”

I rise and offer her my hand. “Come on. We’ll go through the back alleys, avoid the main roads.”

She hesitates a second, then seizes my hand with trembling fingers. Her grip is so frail it tugs at my heart. No child—no one—deserves to live with this level of terror. I help her onto the walkway, steadying her as the rotted planks sway beneath us.

The flicker of torchlight glimmers ominously against the night sky. Shouts ring out: coarse orders from dark elf soldiers, the pounding of boots on cobblestone. Ai looks at me, panic etched across her features.

I set a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Stay behind me, keep low, and run when I tell you.”

She nods, hugging her scrawny arms to her chest.

We creep toward the far side of the mill, where a crumbling gate leads to a tight side lane. Each footstep feels like a thunderclap in this tense hush. My gaze darts around, searching for silhouettes or flickers of movement. The world contracts into a condensed swirl of moonglow and dread. Ai’s breathing stutters.

Suddenly, a male voice barks from the main street, “Spread out! She must be near!”

I grind my teeth in frustration. The city guard, or perhaps a specialized unit, is far too close. My mind replays the suspicion: that the Red Purna intended for me to be caught, or at least tested. This is too convenient, the timing too perfect. We’re cornered between the canal and a band of ruthless elves.

Ai’s hand grips the back of my shirt as she tries to keep up. I lead her deeper into the side lane, away from the shouts. A tangle of crates and debris blocks a direct path, forcing us to navigate around obstacles. Our pace quickens, fear fueling every step. The torque of adrenaline heightens my senses—my psionic awareness prickles the air, searching for minds that might be scanning for us.

A sharper cry echoes from behind. I glimpse the bounce of torchlight. Dark shadows flit across walls. Ai looks at me with wide, terror-stricken eyes. My instincts scream at me to cloak us in illusions, but conjuring that kind of transformative magic right now could act like a beacon to any psionic hound they might have with them.

Another voice slices the air, deeper and more commanding, “We know you’re here, purna. Surrender and we’ll let the child live.”

Ai quivers violently. I pull her around the corner, pressing our bodies flat against the rough stone. We can’t stay hidden indefinitely. These elves are methodical—they’ll comb every alley soon enough.

A scraping shuffle behind me signals movement. My heart pounds in my throat. I risk a glance over my shoulder. A soldier steps into the lane, tall and wiry, chaotic energy flickering around the blade in his hand. He sweeps his gaze across the shadows, scanning for motion.

I hold Ai’s arm, urging her to remain still. My breath sits lodged in my chest. One step closer and we’ll be forced to reveal ourselves. We’re pinned here, like cornered animals.

Inside my mind, a single realization surfaces: the Red Purna definitely set this up. They knew Ai’s presence would draw the city guard. They expected me to pull her out anyway—and maybe they assumed I’d prove our superiority in the process. I want to spit curses. Instead, I steel myself.

Ai whimpers under her breath. I press my lips to her temple, whispering, “Don’t make a sound.”

My free hand slowly lifts, shaping a small distortion in the air—just enough to project a fleeting hum that skitters against the opposite wall. The soldier’s ears perk, and he whips around, chasing the phantom noise. I exhale shakily. Thank the Source for illusions, even if small ones.

We creep forward while he’s distracted, inching along the wall. The glow of torches arcs over the rooftops. Another barked order rings out, “Form a perimeter at the cross-street! Don’t let them slip away.”

My stomach twists. They’re systematically boxing us in. Ai gazes at me in horror, lips trembling. The time for subtlety might be gone.

Up ahead, the lane widens into a neglected courtyard with a single exit—blocked by a duo of dark elves, both armed. They haven’t seen us yet, but it’s only a matter of seconds. I scan for an alternative route. None. The walls are too high for Ai to climb easily, and we’re too far from the canal to double back without crossing into the path of more soldiers.

The pair of elves steps closer, scanning the gloom. Ai’s nails dig into my arm. The flicker of an ember from their torch reveals their sleek obsidian skin, the high cheekbones that mark them as Orthani elites. For a heartbeat, their cruelty is almost tangible, a static charge in the air.

I duck behind a splintered barrel. Ai huddles beside me, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. We share a single, heart-pounding look.

Movement near the cross-street signals more elves converging. I catch glimpses of pointed ears, the gleam of polished leather armor, the swirl of arcane energy. They’re systematically tightening the net around us.

My pulse echoes in my ears. I have a choice: use my magic openly and risk them sensing it, or keep relying on subterfuge. If I don’t act, we’ll be captured. If I do act, we’ll have to run for our lives in a city that belongs to them. Either path is fraught with danger.

Ai trembles so hard I fear she’ll pass out. Something in me coils with raw anger at the predicament we’re forced into. This child isn’t meant to endure such terror. Yet here she is, dragged into Orthani’s darkest corners.

One of the elves glances toward the barrel, eyes narrowing. “I thought I heard something.”

That’s all the warning we get. He steps closer, raising his blade. Torchlight spills across the ground, illuminating the edge of Ai’s tattered skirt. She sucks in a ragged gasp.

His partner smirks. “Come on out, little humans. We won’t hurt you... much.” A mocking laugh echoes.

A swirl of energy ignites in my core. I grit my teeth, preparing to lash out with a controlled burst. Before I can unleash it, a triumphant shout erupts from the corner behind us. Another group of soldiers marches in, making escape in that direction impossible. We are surrounded from both sides.

For one breathless moment, the entire courtyard resonates with tension. Ai clings to me, her teeth chattering. The elves advance, a few steps away, confident grins etched on their faces.

I see no path left but to fight or create a distraction large enough to slip away with Ai. My illusions might not cut it this time. I glance at the child, her face pale with dread. My muscles tense. If I have to reveal a fraction of my purna magic, so be it. At least we’ll stand a chance at escaping.

But something flickers in the distance—an orange glow from the main street, accompanied by harsh cries and the clang of weapons. Another dark elf raid is sweeping the entire district. This intensifies the chaos. Maybe, just maybe, that confusion can work in our favor.

I catch a glimpse of tall figures striding into the alley from the corner of my eye. More soldiers, well-armed. My stomach churns as I realize that with each passing second, the net tightens.

A single thought races through my mind: I have to act now.

I twist, pressing my lips to Ai’s ear. “Stay behind me,” I whisper. “When I say run, you go.”

She nods jerkily, her entire body trembling.

And then, with a surge of raw determination, I prepare to unleash the smallest, tightest sphere of transformative magic I can manage—enough to warp the air around us and obscure our forms from direct sight. It won’t hold long, but it might buy precious seconds.

Before I cast, I see a swirl of motion near the far alley. The silhouettes of soldiers become distinct. One stands taller than the others, posture proud, commanding. His presence alone radiates authority. Even from this distance, I can feel the tension that thrums from him, as if he’s used to leading men into battles or hunts. He shouts orders that echo across the courtyard.

Ai’s breath catches. She stares at him with terrified wonder, as though sensing his aura. I suspect he’s a high-ranking officer. Another fraction of me wonders if he’s the one the soldiers mentioned earlier.

I swallow hard, fear and fury churning into a heated knot in my chest. The Red Purna must have planned this. Why else would so many converge exactly where Ai and I are cornered? They want me to face Orthani’s best. Perhaps they imagine I’ll break or triumph, either outcome serving their twisted goals.

The tall elf gestures sharply, and his men spread out in a fan around him. They’re going to comb every possible hiding spot. My heart pulses in my throat.

I mouth a silent vow: They won’t take us without a fight. Then I set my attention on Ai, locking eyes with her. She nods, resolve flickering behind her fear. She’s ready to trust me.

Torchlight glitters off the soldiers’ blades as they move in. Footsteps echo on the cobblestones, drawing closer. My blood thrums with psionic force, the edges of my vision tinted with the anticipation of wielding magic. I gather it in my core, shaping it into a protective cloak that might mask us for a short while. It’s risky, but we have no other choice.

A single shout rings out from the side alley, alerting the others to our position. They’ve spotted movement. I curse internally, pressing Ai against the broken barrel for cover.

Moments from now, they’ll see me. I will reveal what I am. The mission is compromised, but Ai’s survival is what matters. I exhale, forcibly calming my pounding heart. The swirl of half-summoned illusions crackles along my arms, faint arcs of shimmering light that only I can feel in full detail.

Footsteps approach, slow and certain. In the dim glow of flickering torches, I glimpse the group of soldiers creeping closer. Ai sucks in a ragged breath.

I whisper, “Now.”

With a swift motion, I release a wave of distorted imagery. The air ripples, shimmering around us like a mirage. I grab Ai’s hand and sprint forward, weaving past the stunned soldiers. They shout curses, brandishing weapons at illusions of multiple figures running in different directions.

Ai and I dash toward the narrower gap between two half-crumpled walls, hearts hammering, illusions flickering behind us. My focus frays with each step, the magic unraveling. The soldiers realize the trick in seconds. By the time we burst into another alley, I hear them behind us, footsteps pounding on wet stones.

A swirl of menacing flames brightens the sky, signaling a larger raid enveloping Lowtown. My mind races, searching for a path we can take.

That’s when I catch sight of the tall elf stepping into the end of the alley, cutting off our route. His expression remains hidden by the gloom, but the authority in his stance is unmistakable. He stands with sword in hand, poised to block our escape. I can’t see his face clearly, but I sense the lethal confidence in the set of his shoulders. More figures gather behind him.

Ai whimpers my name. My illusions are spent. The swirling energy in my veins flickers, half drained by the attempt. We skid to a stop, trapped on both ends.

The situation is dire. My heart thunders so hard I feel it in my throat. Ai’s small hand clenches mine, trusting me in a way that nearly breaks me. I don’t have a real plan left—only my willingness to fight with every scrap of magic if it means keeping her alive.

Torchlight blazes brighter as more soldiers flood into the alley, their voices a raucous clamor. My fear spikes, but fury ignites a savage edge within me. They wanted a cornered purna? They’re about to face one.

The tall elf lifts his blade, pointing it at us. The gleam in his eyes speaks volumes: he expects me to surrender. He thinks I’m just another purna too weak to challenge Orthani’s might.

My jaw sets. Ai trembles beside me, tears shining on her face. I glare at the line of soldiers, preparing to unleash the storm I’ve kept caged inside. Then something else surges up in me: a new wave of suspicion that the Red Purna orchestrated this perfect ambush. That knowledge only fuels my wrath.

We can’t remain here. The soldier nearest me snarls, “Drop your weapon!”

I smirk, letting a sliver of magic crackle around my fingertips. “Come and make me.”

He tenses, the intensity in his posture betraying caution. Ai glances at me with wild eyes, as if uncertain what I’m planning. I meet her gaze, hoping my expression conveys that no matter how bleak this seems, I will not let them have her.

Behind the soldier, the tall elf steps forward. Torchlight washes over his obsidian skin, highlighting a scar that slashes across his cheek. His presence vibrates with authority. Whoever he is, he’s no ordinary grunt. A hush falls over the other soldiers, indicating that he’s the one giving orders.

Suddenly, a distant call resonates through the alley, carried by the swirling chaos of the raid: “Commander Vaelith! The perimeter is set!”

Ai clenches my hand. Commander Vaelith.

He shifts slightly, adopting a posture of utter control. I can sense the tension in every line of his frame. He’s waiting for me to either strike or yield. If I do neither, his men will close in. My illusions have run their course, and I’m pinned by his unwavering attention.

My heart thrashes. They have us trapped. The swirl of torches behind me grows brighter—another unit of soldiers closes in from the rear. This is precisely the moment I dreaded. The Red Purna did plan this, I’m sure of it. Betrayal tastes bitter on my tongue, but I have no time to rage at them. Survival is all that matters.

I grip Ai’s shoulder, breath ragged. She trembles, on the edge of panic. The ring of armed elves forms an inescapable circle. My every sense screams that we are out of options.

Commander Vaelith’s voice reverberates through the hush, low and resonant: “Surrender the girl. If you cooperate, I might spare your life.”

Ai gasps, panic threatening to spill from her lips. I bare my teeth at him in silent defiance. I’ve come too far to hand her over. I can’t let them take us. The final vestige of my magic crackles around my pulse points, ready to lash out in one last stand.

The possibility of unleashing a suicidal burst crosses my mind, but I know the cost. Ai would be caught in the aftermath. I steel myself for a desperate gamble, scanning the alley for any possible gap in their formation. None. They’re well trained.

Torches blaze, illuminating Ai’s tear-streaked face and the determined set of my jaw. I look up, meeting Vaelith’s gaze. For an instant, all else fades. The grim lines of his face suggest he’s used to subjugating whomever he desires. Arrogance bleeds from him, yet I catch a flicker of something else—curiosity, perhaps.

He speaks again, voice tinted with menace. “Do you value your life, purna? I can end this quickly or drag it out.”

My heart slams in my chest. This is the final moment before everything changes. Ai clings to my arm, trembling so violently that my own fury amplifies. If this city thinks I’ll kneel, they’re mistaken. But there are too many soldiers. The circle tightens. In the distance, more elves swarm Lowtown, stamping out any chance of escape.

I feel trapped, cornered in the mouth of a hungry serpent. My mind replays all the warnings, all the doubts about this mission. The Red Purna set me up. My throat burns with betrayal. But a flicker of defiance roars inside. I will not kneel willingly.

Commander Vaelith steps closer, his expression resolute. The soldiers behind me close in, cutting off any retreat. Ai stares at me with watery eyes. We are moments from the clash that will decide our fates.

The final thread of hope slips through my fingers. Another wave of torches surges at the alley’s entrance, accompanied by a triumphant shout—clearly the rest of the raid flooding in. Ai stiffens against me. My own body coils tight, preparing for a reckless strike. The time for hiding is over.

I fix Vaelith with a glare. The entire district rings with the clang of steel and the distant screams of panicked humans. Ai’s breath rattles. Her tears sparkle in the harsh firelight. I gather a trembling gust of energy, ready to fight until the last drop.

But deep down, I can’t shake the sense that the Red Purna got exactly what they wanted: me in Orthani’s lethal grip, with Ai as the key. My fists clench, heart pounding so hard that lights spark in my peripheral vision.

All around us, the city’s watchers converge, forging an unbreakable chain of swords and torches. It’s over. Or perhaps it’s just beginning.

“Take the child,” Vaelith orders, voice echoing in the alley.

My fury spikes, but we’re outnumbered ten to one. Ai lets out a desperate sob. Soldiers surge toward us. I tense, summoning magic to my palms, ready to defend her, no matter how futile. The night in Orthani’s Lowtown descends upon me, cruel and unstoppable, threatening to devour us both.