Chapter 4: Ashes and Blood

The fires of Duskmoor raged behind him, but Alexis didn't dare look back. His breath came in ragged gasps as his feet pounded against the cracked stone streets, weaving through the chaos. The screams had blended into a single terrible roar — the sound of a city dying.

Mira's face flashed in his mind. The way she'd fallen. The way her scream had been cut short.

He kept running.

He didn't know where he was going — only that he had to get away. The Inquisitors were hunting him. Somehow, they had always been hunting him. But why? What had they meant about his blood? What was this power that had burst from him in that terrible moment?

It didn't matter now. He couldn't fight them. He couldn't even save his friends.

The alley narrowed ahead, and Alexis slipped into the shadows, pressing his back against the wall. His heart hammered as the heavy sound of boots passed close by — Inquisitors searching the ruins. He forced his breathing to slow, his muscles trembling with the effort of stillness.

He had to survive.

He had to find Riven — if Riven was still alive.

The thought sent a fresh wave of anger and fear through him. The gang had been his family. He couldn't let them die like this.

When the footsteps faded, Alexis moved.

He kept low, skirting the edges of the flames and ruin. The city's outer districts were already lost — whole streets reduced to ash. Bodies littered the ground, most of them civilians. The Church didn't just want him. They wanted Duskmoor erased.

It wasn't until he reached the old smuggler tunnels beneath the market that he finally stopped to catch his breath. The darkness swallowed him, cool and silent, and for a moment, the weight of everything crashed down on him.

He sank to his knees, his fingers curling into fists against the cold stone. The power he'd felt earlier still echoed inside him — distant, like a locked door. It was the same feeling he'd always carried, a strange emptiness deep inside, like something waiting.

But this time, it had stirred.

"Why?" he whispered into the dark. "Why now?"

He had no answers. Only fear.

And somewhere above, the city burned.

—

Hours passed in the tunnels. Maybe longer.

Alexis stayed hidden, listening to the distant sounds of the invasion. The horns had stopped, but the screams hadn't. He tried not to think about who was still out there — who might still be alive.

At some point, exhaustion took him. When he woke, the tunnels were silent.

The world above was quiet too. Not peaceful — never peaceful — but the worst of the destruction had passed. The air still smelled of smoke when Alexis emerged into the ruins of Duskmoor's market. The stalls were blackened husks, the stones slick with blood.

The Inquisitors were gone.

But their work remained.

He made his way toward the gang's hideout, fear coiling tighter in his chest with every step. The closer he got, the worse the devastation grew. When he finally reached the courtyard, his heart broke.

The fire had gutted everything. The old building they'd called home was little more than collapsed stone and ash. The bodies had been left where they fell.

He found Riven first. The gang leader lay sprawled near the entrance, his twin blades still clutched in his hands. Blood covered him — but his face was calm.

Mira wasn't far away. She looked so small in death, her knife still at her side.

Alexis knelt beside her, his throat tight. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

He didn't cry. There wasn't time.

But he stayed there for a long moment, his fingers brushing against the hilt of her blade. Then he stood, sliding the knife free and tucking it into his belt.

He wouldn't leave it behind.

—

The survivors were few.

Alexis found Garek alive, but only barely — the big man's wounds were deep, and his breathing was shallow. He stayed with him until the end, listening to his final words.

"Should've… run faster, kid…" Garek managed a weak, bloodied grin. "Guess you… win this one."

Alexis didn't answer. He just held the man's hand until it went still.

After that, there was nothing left for him here.

The gang was gone. Duskmoor was gone.

And Alexis Greaves was alone again.

But the Church wasn't finished.

As he slipped into the outskirts of the city, the faint glint of silver caught his eye — scouts, moving through the ruins. They hadn't found him yet… but they would.

He needed to leave Duskmoor behind.

He needed to disappear.

—

He traveled west.

The road was long and dangerous, but Alexis had always known how to survive. He stayed ahead of the Church's reach, keeping to the wild places. When he finally found a village willing to take in a boy with no past, he kept his head down and his words few.

The years passed.

He worked where he could — farms, forges, anything that paid enough to keep him fed. He never stayed anywhere for too long. The Church's reach was long, and whispers of their hunt followed him like a shadow.

But he wasn't a child anymore. He was learning.

Fighting.

Surviving.

He was weak — or so it seemed. The power inside him remained locked away, silent. But sometimes, when danger loomed too close, he felt it stir.

And he feared the day it would wake.

—

He was turning 18 when the war reached him again.

The village of Oakrest had become something like home. It wasn't much — just a scattering of homes and fields — but it was peaceful. He'd found work with a blacksmith named Halden, who treated him with a gruff kind of kindness.

He even had friends.

"You ever gonna stop brooding, Greaves?" Laina teased, flicking a pebble at him. She was a farmer's daughter with a sharp tongue and quicker hands.

"I don't brood," Alexis muttered.

"Laina, leave the poor boy alone," Torren cut in. He was older, bulkier, but his grin was easy. "You'll scare him off."

"You think I scare him? Please. Alexis here's tougher than you."

He smiled despite himself. For a little while, the weight of the past felt lighter.

But peace never lasted.

The Holy Church came at dusk.

The bells rang first — a warning that died in fire and screams. By the time Alexis reached the village square, Oakrest was already burning.

The Inquisitors had found him.

"Laina!" he shouted, but the roar of flames swallowed his voice. He ran, his heart pounding, his eyes searching desperately — but the only answer was steel.

The first soldier came at him with a spear. Alexis dodged, his movements fast and practiced, and drove his dagger into the man's side. But more followed.

And then the Inquisitor stepped forward.

The same cold eyes. The same terrible calm.

"We meet again," the man said. "This time, you won't escape."

Alexis' fear turned to fury. He raised Mira's knife.

He wouldn't run. Not this time