Fantasy Dungeon IV

And here, in the dark, they had made their move.

Knights shouted as they scrambled to defend the royal carriage. Some were cut down in the confusion, others formed a shield wall around it. Arrows whistled through the night, but Valeris was already inside the storm, her blade an extension of her will. She moved like a flash of moonlight—precise, lethal, merciless.

Asher, meanwhile, carved a path through the attackers with brutal efficiency. Lucas's training lived in his muscles, but it was Asher's will behind the strikes. He fought not like a knight, but like a sovereign. Calculated. Commanding.

One assassin broke through the perimeter and lunged straight for Valeris, a curved dagger in hand, poison dripping from the blade.

She caught him mid-air.

Twisting. Spinning.

Her sword opened his throat in a clean arc, and he fell at her feet.

"Cowards," she hissed. "They couldn't kill me in court, so they sent blades in the night."