Chapter 162: A Knife in the Dark

The traitor's pulse quickened as they moved through the palace corridors, every footstep measured, every breath controlled. The night air was cool, but tension hung like a thick fog over the group as they made their way deeper into the heart of the kingdom. Isolde was in the lead, her eyes scanning every shadow, every turn, as though she could sense the weight of the moment.

In the silence, the traitor's mind raced, replaying the plan over and over. There had to be a way to stop the assassination without blowing their cover. But Isolde's presence was like a noose tightening around their neck. Any sign of hesitation, any deviation from the mission, and she would see right through them. The traitor had sent the warning, but they were walking a knife's edge now.

Isolde paused at the edge of the council chamber's hidden entrance, her hand raised to signal the group to halt. "This is it," she whispered, her voice like ice. "Once we're inside, there's no turning back."

The traitor nodded, keeping their face neutral. Inside, their heart pounded. They had to act soon, but every move was a gamble. One wrong step and everything would unravel.

The woman from the night before—who had yet to reveal her true name—stood close by. She gave the traitor a brief, meaningful look. It was a silent reminder: they were in this together. She had her own reasons for wanting out of the Order, and for now, their fates were entwined.

Isolde motioned for the group to move. With a soft creak, the hidden door slid open, revealing a narrow passage that led directly to the council chamber. The traitor could hear voices beyond the walls, muffled but unmistakable—the king and his advisors were inside, unaware of the danger creeping toward them.

"Stay sharp," Isolde whispered. "We strike fast, and we disappear before they even realize we were here."

The traitor followed the group into the passage, their eyes scanning every corner, every shadow. This was their last chance to figure out how to stop the assassination without giving themselves away. Every instinct screamed at them to act, but the timing had to be perfect.

Inside the council chamber, Jay sat at the head of the table, his eyes sharp despite the long hours of discussion. The warning from the traitor had rattled him more than he let on. He had spent the entire meeting bracing for the worst, but the Order was elusive. They wouldn't strike openly, not with so many guards and eyes on the palace.

Mira stood nearby, her hand resting on her sword. Like Jay, she was tense, ready to move at a moment's notice. The council members continued their discussions, oblivious to the silent storm brewing around them.

Jay's gaze flicked to the entrance, his senses heightened. Something was off. The air felt too still, too quiet. He trusted the traitor's warning, but the question that burned in his mind was when they would strike. And more importantly, how.

A faint creak echoed through the chamber—so faint that only Jay seemed to notice. His hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword, his eyes narrowing as he signaled for Mira's attention. She, too, sensed it. Something was coming.

In the passage, Isolde signaled for the group to halt again. They were moments away from entering the chamber, moments away from completing their mission. The traitor's heart pounded in their chest. The plan was simple—too simple, given the stakes. Isolde would lead the attack, and the traitor would follow, playing their part as the loyal member of the Order.

But there was no way they could let this happen.

As Isolde stepped forward to push open the final door, the traitor acted. In a swift motion, they grabbed the woman's arm—the one who had promised to help—and whispered urgently in her ear, "Now."

The woman's eyes widened, but she didn't hesitate. She had been waiting for this moment, and with a silent nod, she moved into position. In a flash, she pulled out a small vial from her cloak and tossed it to the ground. The vial shattered, releasing a thick, acrid smoke that filled the narrow passage.

Isolde spun around, her eyes flashing with fury. "What—"

The traitor didn't wait for her to finish. In the chaos, they lunged toward her, knocking her off balance. Isolde stumbled back, her hand reaching for her dagger, but the smoke was disorienting, clouding her vision and slowing her movements. The traitor pressed their advantage, striking swiftly, but not fatally. They needed to incapacitate her, not kill her—not yet.

The other members of the group were caught off guard by the sudden betrayal, coughing and struggling to see through the thick smoke. The traitor seized the moment of confusion, pulling the woman—now their accomplice—away from the group and through a side passage they had discovered earlier.

They ran through the twisting corridors of the palace, their footsteps echoing in the empty halls. The traitor's mind raced as they navigated the labyrinthine passages, but they knew they had to act fast. The council was still in danger, and Isolde wouldn't stay down for long.

In the council chamber, Jay and Mira had risen from their seats, their hands on their weapons, ready for whatever was about to come through the door. The tension in the room was palpable, and Jay's instincts screamed at him that the moment was close.

Then, in a burst of motion, the side doors to the chamber flew open, and the traitor stumbled inside, their cloak disheveled, their face pale but determined. Behind them, the woman from the Order stood, her expression grim.

"Jay!" the traitor gasped, catching their breath. "The Order—they're here. They've come for you."

Mira's sword was out in an instant, her eyes narrowing at the intruders. "What is this? Another trick?"

Jay held up a hand, stopping her. His eyes were locked on the traitor, trying to read the truth in their face. "What's going on?"

"There's no time to explain," the traitor said, their voice urgent. "Isolde is leading the attack. I stopped her, but she'll recover soon. You need to get out of here, now."

Jay's gaze flickered to the woman standing beside the traitor, then back to the traitor themselves. He wanted to believe them, but trust was a dangerous commodity. "Why should I trust you?"

The traitor met his gaze, their eyes pleading. "Because I didn't come here to kill you. I came here to save you."

For a long, tense moment, the room was silent. The council members looked on in confusion, and Mira's grip tightened on her sword. But finally, Jay nodded, his expression hardening.

"Alright," he said, his voice steady. "Let's move."

As they fled the council chamber, Jay turned to the traitor, his voice low. "You realize this changes everything, don't you?"

The traitor nodded, the weight of their decision pressing down on them like never before. "I know."

The war had just escalated, and the traitor was caught in the middle of it all—balancing on the razor's edge between survival and destruction.