The Night Hunt

In the quiet of his private chamber, Melzek sat poring over a ledger, the scratching of his quill the only sound. The heavy knock on the door came, and a voice spoke from the other side, "Lord Melzek, I have urgent news."

"Enter," Melzek growled, and the door swung open to reveal a man in a dark cloak, his face shrouded.

"My lord, it's about Tryen and Yone they're dead," the man finished, his voice almost a whisper.

Melzek's quill snapped in his grip, the ledger forgotten. "Impossible!" he hissed, his eyes flashing in the lamplight. "Who dares to strike at my men?"

The man swallowed, his eyes darting to the floor. "We don't know, my lord. But there was no sign of struggle…it was almost as if they didn't see their attacker."

Melzek's hands clenched into fists. "Assassination," he snarled. "This is the work of the Blade of Vengeance. Or the Azure Guild." He straightened, a calculating gleam entering his eyes. "No matter. This is simply an opportunity for my remaining brothers to prove their worth. Tell them to ready themselves. We're going underground."

The man nodded and took his leave, leaving Melzek alone in his chamber.

Hours passed, and the city's underbelly began to stir. Men clad in dark cloaks, their blades hidden but at the ready, gathered outside an old, abandoned temple on the outskirts of the city. It was there, deep within the sewers, that Melzek had chosen to make his temporary hideout.

He stood in the shadows, watching as the men arrived, the echoes of their footsteps like the warning drumbeat of a predator. "No one enters or leaves without my say so," he hissed. "And as for Kael, tell him he has a job to do." Melzek's eyes glittered in the darkness. "We'll weed out this assassin. One way or another."

Kael stood at the back of the assembled men, a ghostly presence in his blindfold and dark clothing. He nodded, his grin a slash of white in the gloom. "Consider it done," he said, and slipped away into the shadows, leaving Melzek to await news.

Meanwhile, in the sewers beneath the city, Luna moved with the stealth of a panther through the dark, dank tunnels. Her blade was a whisper of steel in her hand, the only sound her soft footsteps on the slippery stone.

She knew Melzek's location, but also knew she couldn't rely on stealth alone. Not when his henchmen were on high alert. Every shadow could hide an enemy, every rustle of rats a sign of a trap.

Up ahead, she saw a glimmer of torchlight, heard the murmur of voices.

She ducked into a shallow alcove, the stench of mold and decay thick in the air. She watched as a group of figures moved through the tunnel, their torches casting eerie, dancing shadows on the slick walls. Luna waited until they had passed, her pulse quickening. It was now or never.

She slipped from her hiding place and followed the group, her footsteps silent on the muck-covered stone. They seemed oblivious to her presence, and she let out a small sigh of relief. Just a little closer…

As Luna closed the distance, she caught snippets of conversation. "The boss is getting' antsy," said one. "Yeah, well, with Tryen and Yone dead, no wonder," replied another. "Who'd be crazy enough to take them out?" the first man asked, a nervous edge to his voice.

Luna suppressed a snort of disdain. This was too easy. She crept up behind the men, her blade drawn, ready to strike. But just as she was about to leap…

There was a faint, metallic twang, and one of the men stumbled to his knees with a cry of surprise. Luna's eyes darted to the direction of the sound, catching a glimpse of a glinting arrow protruding from the wall. The men were in a frenzy now, their swords drawn as they searched for the source of the attack.

Luna seized the opportunity. She sprang from the shadows, her blade flashing in the torchlight. In a matter of seconds, the men were felled, their blood mingling with the foul waters of the sewer.

Pushing the metal doors open, she saw a man seated comfortably, wine glass in hand. His smug smile told her this was Melzek.

"So you're the one who took out my men," came a voice from the shadows, smooth and calm. Luna narrowed her eyes as Melzek stepped into view, his wine glass glinting in the torchlight.

"Guess you're the one who took out those fools," he said, a smirk curling his lips. "To think a woman managed to take the life of the great Tryen." He chuckled, and Luna's grip on her blade tightened.

"I wish I could see the look on his face when he died." Melzek's voice dripped with false sweetness. "Tell me, what were his last words?"

Luna's eyes glittered with fury, and she stepped closer to him, her blade pressing against his throat. "You can ask him yourself when you see him in the underworld."

Melzek's smirk faltered for a moment, but it quickly returned. "Oh, no. It seems you've gotten things wrong.

"I won't be dying here, you will." Melzek's eyes glittered with a predatory gleam. Luna tensed, ready for an attack, but it was too late. Kael appeared like a ghost from nowhere, his sword already arcing towards Luna's back.

In a split second, Luna dropped to the ground, feeling the razor-sharp edge of Kael's blade just graze her belly. The pain was a shock, but she pushed past it, rolling to her feet and whirling to face her new opponent.

"No one has ever managed to dodge my surprise attack like that," the man said. "It's quite impressive. Tell me your name, so I may remember it."

Through the pain, Luna smiled. "It's Luna. And what's yours?"

"They call me Kael," he replied, his voice smooth and dangerous. "Enough talk. Now die."

And with that, Kael rushed at Luna, his sword swinging in a deadly arc.

Luna dove into the shadows, seeming to disappear into their inky depths. Kael watched her vanish, his expression unchanging, waiting for her inevitable re-emergence.

And re-emerge she did, leaping from a shadow behind Kael, ready to strike. But he was no novice—he turned and blocked her attack with his sword, using the momentum to push her back.

What followed was a blur of metal and blood, as Luna and Kael clashed with a ferocity that shook the very sewers around them.

Kael's blade swung with a precision and speed that belied his blindness, while Luna's own movements were a deadly dance of shadows and steel. She leaped, dodged, and counterattacked with a grace that only one who had spent their life fighting could possess.

But Kael was no easy opponent. Even as Luna's blade found its mark, piercing his flesh, he continued to fight with a wild ferocity that seemed to grow stronger with each wound. Blood splattered across the walls, and the sound of steel clashing echoed throughout the sewers.

With each blow, Luna's exhaustion grew, her limbs feeling heavier with every movement. But she refused to give in. She was the assassin. She was the one who would walk away alive.

Kael, however, was not done. In a sudden burst of movement, he surged forward, catching Luna off-guard. His sword sliced into her shoulder, sending searing pain through her body. But she refused to fall.

With a cry of defiance, Luna sank into the shadows once more.

From within the shadows, Luna watched as Kael searched for her, his blindfold betraying no hint of panic or confusion. But Luna was not a novice. She knew these shadows like the back of her hand.

And when she emerged, it was not as she had before. This time, she merged with the shadows, becoming one with the darkness. She was no longer simply hiding within them, but commanding them.

Kael felt the shift in the air, as the shadows themselves seemed to thrum with a new energy.

And then the shadows moved. They coiled around Kael's body like a living thing, binding him to the wall. He struggled against them, his sword flashing in the dim light, but the shadows held fast.

Luna, still a part of the shadows, emerged from behind Kael, her dagger glinting with purpose. She struck before he could react, plunging the blade into his heart.

Kael gasped, his mouth forming a silent O of surprise. The light faded from his eyes as he sank to the ground, his body lifeless.

With a final look at the fallen Kael, Luna turned and made her way back into the hideout. Melzek sat in his chair, still holding his glass of wine, but the smugness was gone from his face.

"So, you survived," he said, his voice tight with fear. "Guess my hired muscle wasn't good enough."

Luna merely stared at him, her eyes as cold and deadly as her blade.

"Say your goodbyes, Melzek," she said, her voice a low growl. "You're next."

Luna approached Melzek, her dagger gleaming in the dim light of the hideout.

"Say your goodbyes, Melzek," she repeated, her voice like ice. "I'm curious. Did you think you could control me? Or did you really believe I'd just fade away into the darkness?"

Melzek's face twisted into a mask of fear and anger. "You were just a tool. A means to an end," he spat. "And now you're nothing but a loose end to be tied off."

"A tool?" Luna's laugh was low and dangerous.

Luna smiled, a cruel twist of her lips that sent a shiver down Melzek's spine. Without a word, she lunged forward, her dagger flashing in the dim light. The blade found its mark, slicing cleanly across Melzek's throat. Blood spurted out, coating Luna's hands and face in a crimson mask.

Melzek gurgled, his eyes wide with fear and pain. He clutched at his throat, but it was too late. He had finally met his end, his life bleeding away at Luna's feet.

Luna watched Melzek's body crumple to the ground, her chest heaving with exertion. She looked at her blood-soaked hands, her eyes taking in the violence she had wrought. Death was her weapon, her art, and she wielded it with precision and grace.

The silence of the hideout echoed with the weight of Melzek's death. Luna took a deep breath, letting the adrenaline fade. Her mission was done.

Turning away from Melzek's body, Luna made her way out of the hideout, leaving the sewers behind her.

The darkness of the sewers gave way to the harsh light of day. Luna emerged from the shadows, her cloak billowing behind her like a black cape. The city bustled around her, unaware of the death that had just been dealt in its underbelly.

Luna took a moment to orient herself. The Flower Vase, the place she called home, beckoned to her. She would cleanse herself of the blood and the fight, but the memory of her victory would always remain.

She began the long walk back to the Flower Vase, her mind already turning to the next target.