Chapter 12: The First Reckoning

The ruins were quiet, too quiet. Karima moved cautiously through the abandoned structures, her breath steady but her muscles coiled, ready. The High Council's forces were near—she could feel it. She had spent weeks running, hiding, and training, but this time, she would stand her ground.

Her hand tightened around the hilt of her dagger. Her father had always told her that fear was natural, but action was a choice. Tonight, she would choose to fight.

A flicker of movement caught her eye. Shadows shifted along the edges of the broken buildings. They were here. The Council's enforcers, hunting her like they had hunted her father and everyone else tied to the bloodline of the First Wielders.

Karima took a deep breath, focusing. Haytham's lessons rang in her mind—watch their movement, anticipate their strike, control your breath. The first enforcer stepped into view, his rifle raised, scanning the area. He was alone for now, but she knew better than to assume he was the only one.

She moved fast.

Darting from the shadows, she lunged forward, striking before he could react. Her blade found its mark, slicing through the weak point in his armor. The enforcer choked out a gasp before crumpling to the ground, his body limp.

Karima barely had time to register what happened next.

The ring on her finger pulsed.

A sharp jolt of energy surged through her body, like a shockwave rippling through her veins. She gasped, stumbling back as warmth spread through her limbs. It wasn't just warmth—it was power. Something foreign, yet instinctive. She could feel it feeding into her, strengthening her.

But she had no time to question it.

More enforcers stormed into the ruins. Three. No—four. Karima exhaled sharply. She had trained for this, but training was nothing compared to the chaos of real combat.

She darted left as the first enforcer fired. The blast scorched the wall behind her, sending a spray of dust and debris into the air. She dropped low, rolling under another shot, then came up fast, slashing at the nearest soldier's exposed arm. He screamed, clutching the wound, but she didn't stop—she had to keep moving.

One of the enforcers charged her. She pivoted, using his own momentum against him, sending him crashing into the crumbling stone. Her dagger flashed, cutting through cloth and flesh, and he fell with a strangled cry.

Then it happened again.

The ring pulsed, pulling energy from his fallen form. Karima staggered as the rush of raw power flowed into her, stronger this time. It filled her muscles, steadied her breathing. She wasn't just regaining strength—she was growing stronger.

She clenched her fist.

This ring was not ordinary.

The final two enforcers hesitated, their confidence shaken. They had expected an easy kill, not a fighter who seemed to grow more powerful with each enemy she felled.

Karima narrowed her eyes. She could use this.

The first moved in, swinging his rifle like a club. She dodged, ducking low, before driving her dagger up into his ribs. He gasped, his weapon clattering to the ground as he collapsed. The final enforcer took a step back, suddenly realizing he was alone.

Karima tilted her head. "Run," she said.

He did.

She watched him disappear into the ruins, her body still thrumming with the unnatural energy the ring had given her. She flexed her fingers, staring down at the silver band on her hand.

What are you?

She knelt beside one of the fallen soldiers, pressing two fingers against his throat. No pulse. His life had drained away, and the ring had taken something from him. But what?

She thought back to the Vault, to the strange inscriptions and warnings. Had the ring been left there deliberately? Had it been waiting for someone like her?

The thought sent a chill down her spine.

She had won this fight, but at what cost?

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to stand. She had survived. She had fought. And she had felt something she couldn't explain.

This was only the beginning.