Chapter 158: A Blade in the Night

The traitor moved swiftly through the forest, the pale moonlight filtering through the dense canopy of trees. Each step was measured, quiet, as they made their way toward the king's outpost at the edge of the borderlands. The tension in the air was palpable, the mission ahead fraught with danger. They knew that every moment spent infiltrating the outpost was a gamble—one that could cost them their life if they made a single mistake.

The weight of the Serpentmaster's command still echoed in their mind: "Bring me the heads of their commanders as proof of your loyalty."

But loyalty was a fluid thing, wasn't it? The traitor had spent weeks treading the line between the kingdom and the Order, and now that line was growing thinner and thinner. They could feel the noose tightening around them from both sides. Jay's trust was tenuous, and the Order's suspicion of their return was lethal.

If I don't bring the heads, I'll die, the traitor thought grimly. But if I do, I'll be betraying everything I've come to believe in.

As they approached the outpost, the traitor crouched low, scanning the perimeter. The outpost was a small but strategic fortification, designed to guard the borderlands from marauding forces. There were a dozen guards posted along the wooden palisades, but the real target lay inside—two commanders who were responsible for overseeing the area's defenses.

Killing them would deal a significant blow to the king's efforts in the region, but it would also serve the Serpentmaster's cruel designs, which now included the traitor themselves as an unwilling pawn.

There must be another way.

The traitor's mind raced, searching for a solution, some method that could allow them to carry out their mission without shedding the wrong blood. But the longer they lingered, the more the weight of their decision pressed down on them.

Meanwhile, back in the kingdom, Jay stood by the window of his study, gazing out at the darkened horizon. The night had settled in, quiet and still, but his mind was far from peaceful. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. The traitor had been sent on their mission hours ago, and yet Jay felt uneasy, as if something deeper was at play.

Mira entered the room, her presence always a balm to his nerves, though tonight her expression mirrored his own concern.

"You're thinking about them, aren't you?" she asked softly, moving to stand beside him.

Jay nodded, not turning away from the window. "I keep wondering if we made the right decision. Sending them back into the Order… it feels like we've thrown them to the wolves."

Mira rested a hand on his arm, her touch gentle but firm. "We didn't have a choice, Jay. If they truly want to redeem themselves, this is the only way. Besides, we need the information they can gather. The Order is too dangerous for us to fight blindly."

"I know," Jay said quietly. "But if they betray us—"

Mira cut him off with a look. "They won't. I saw the fear in their eyes when they left. They know what's at stake. They won't risk everything for the Order again."

Jay sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I hope you're right. For all our sakes."

At the outpost, the traitor had managed to slip past the outer patrols, using the shadows to their advantage. They had spent years training in the art of stealth under the Order's tutelage, and now those skills were being put to the test once again. But this time, their goal was not just to survive—it was to outmaneuver both sides in a deadly game.

The wooden gates loomed ahead, partially open, with two guards stationed on either side. The traitor crept closer, pressing their back against the rough bark of a nearby tree as they listened to the guards' idle chatter.

"Can't believe we're stuck out here in the middle of nowhere," one of the guards grumbled. "Feels like we're guarding against shadows."

"You think this is bad?" the second guard replied. "I heard rumors that the Order's been making moves in the borderlands. If they come here, we're as good as dead."

The traitor stiffened at the mention of the Order. They're already looking in this direction, they thought. Time is running out.

They couldn't wait any longer. Drawing a dagger from their belt, the traitor moved swiftly, dispatching the two guards with quick, precise strikes. They dragged the bodies into the shadows before slipping through the gates, their pulse quickening.

Inside the outpost, the traitor kept to the edges, avoiding the torchlight and the soldiers that patrolled the courtyard. The commanders' quarters were at the far end of the outpost, guarded by a single sentry.

As they approached, a plan began to form in the traitor's mind—one that would allow them to complete the mission without spilling unnecessary blood. It was a dangerous gamble, but if it worked, it could save them and the kingdom from the Order's wrath.

Inside the commanders' quarters, Captain Helos sat at a table, poring over maps of the region. His brow was furrowed with concentration, and he barely noticed the traitor as they slipped into the room.

"Who goes there?" he asked, his hand moving instinctively toward the sword at his side.

The traitor stepped into the light, hands raised in a gesture of peace. "I'm not here to fight, Captain. I'm here to offer you a way out."

Helos' eyes narrowed, his grip on the sword tightening. "A way out? Who are you?"

"Someone who's been playing both sides for too long," the traitor said quietly, their voice steady. "I've been sent to kill you. The Order of the Serpent wants your head."

The captain stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the stone floor. "You dare come here and threaten me?"

"I'm not threatening you," the traitor said quickly. "I'm giving you a chance to survive. If I don't bring back proof of your death, the Order will send someone else—someone far less merciful."

Helos' eyes flicked toward the door, his mind clearly racing with possibilities. "What are you proposing?"

The traitor took a deep breath. "You and your second-in-command need to disappear. Fake your deaths. I'll bring back proof to the Order, and you'll live to fight another day. The kingdom will lose this outpost, but you'll survive."

Helos stared at the traitor, disbelief and suspicion warring on his face. "And why should I trust you?"

"Because you don't have a choice," the traitor replied, their voice tinged with urgency. "The Order is coming, and if you don't take this chance, they'll kill you. I'm giving you a way to live. Take it or leave it."

The room was silent for a long moment, the tension hanging heavy in the air.

Finally, Helos exhaled sharply. "Fine. I'll do it. But if this is a trap—"

"It's not," the traitor interrupted, relief flooding their voice. "Just trust me. I'll make sure you're never found."

Hours later, as the traitor made their way back toward the Order's stronghold, they carried with them a bloodstained banner and two severed heads—carefully selected from fallen soldiers who had died in skirmishes along the border.

The Serpentmaster would receive the proof they demanded, but the traitor knew they had bought themselves precious time—time to gather more information, to find a way to destroy the Order from within.

As they disappeared into the night, they knew that the game had only just begun.