The Assasin's Fury

Easter Slope of Mount MarNubes.

"Asael, stay with me!" Lara's frantic voice drowned Kellan's panicked mumbling.

The wound on Asael's chest was superficial. His attacker must have realized he was wearing protective clothing and shifted their target—his stomach. Two stab wounds. Whoever did this had no intention of letting him walk away alive.

But something didn't add up. Why hadn't Asael fought back? There were no signs of struggle. No defensive wounds. Unless… unless the attacker was someone he knew.

Lara had been delayed. She had spotted a ginseng patch and decided to dig some out. Aramis stayed with her, watching as she carefully unearthed three palm-sized roots. It took her thirty minutes—thirty minutes that now felt like a cruel mistake.

When she and Aramis finally caught up with Asael and his team, she found him lying on the ground, blood pooling beneath him, while Kellan desperately tried to stop the bleeding.