Chapter 6- Lyraea

Chapter 6: Under the Surface

The shadows in Aevoria's lesser district had a life of their own. They shifted and danced, twisting around narrow alleys and crumbling buildings like whispers of forgotten secrets. This place was a maze, a city within a city, where the high-born rarely ventured unless they were looking for something—or someone. For me, it was home. Or something like that.

The rain had finally stopped, but the streets were still slick and shining under the pale light of the moon. I moved quickly, my boots silent against the cobblestones. My thoughts were louder than I wanted them to be, echoes of Mara's words clashing with my own doubts.

You started a war you're not prepared for.

I gritted my teeth, pushing the thought aside. I didn't owe her an explanation. I didn't owe anyone an explanation. The rebellion had saved me, given me a purpose, but that didn't mean I'd let them dictate my every move. I wasn't a soldier; I wasn't a pawn.

Still, the memory of Kaelion's eyes burned in my mind. Warm brown, almost golden, but filled with something sharp and dangerous. He hadn't looked at me like a prince staring down a lesser-born. He'd looked at me like I was an opponent worth fighting. It was... unsettling.

I shook my head, forcing myself to focus. I had a task to complete, and if I didn't make it back to the safehouse with results, it will make my current situation with leadership worse off.

The streets grew narrower as I made my way toward the opposite edge where the district met the mainland, where the rebellion's informants worked under the guise of street vendors and beggars. This part of the city smelled of damp wood and desperation, but it was also where the best information flowed.

As I rounded a corner, a familiar figure stepped out of the shadows. Jorrik. He was a wiry man with a face that looked like it had seen one too many fights and lost every single one. But his sharp eyes made up for his battered appearance.

"You're late," he muttered, his voice low as he glanced around.

"Had a busy night," I replied, leaning against the wall remembering my encounter with leadership early that night. Having done what I had was one thing, but dealing with leadership was another thing entirely.

He snorted. "Heard about it. The prince, huh? You've got some nerve, girl."

"Yeah, well, he's not as scary as they say," I lied, crossing my arms. "What do you have for me?"

Jorrik's expression turned serious as he reached into his coat and pulled out a small, folded piece of parchment. "It's not much, but it's something. Word is, the Malum Veil's been sniffing around the castle. Could be connected to your prince."

I took the parchment, unfolding it to reveal a hastily scribbled map of the castle grounds with several areas circled in red. "What's this?"

"Possible entry points," Jorrik said. "Whoever's working with the Veil, they're not subtle. They've been testing the defenses for weeks now."

I frowned, studying the map. The Malum Veil was bad news, even by rebellion standards. If they were getting involved, it meant something big was coming.

"Anything else?" I asked, tucking the parchment into my coat.

Jorrik hesitated, his eyes darting to the shadows behind me. "You should be careful, Lyraea. Word's spreading about a Siphon running around the city. The wrong people hear about that, and you'll have every bounty hunter from here to the border after your head."

I smirked, though the unease in my chest didn't fade. "Let them try."

Jorrik shook his head, muttering something under his breath before disappearing back into the shadows. I stayed where I was for a moment, letting the weight of his words sink in. The rebellion had kept my secret for years, but secrets didn't stay buried forever.

With a sigh, I turned and made my way back toward the safehouse, keeping to the darkest parts of the district. My fingers brushed against the hilt of my dagger, a comforting reminder that I wasn't defenseless.

---

The city felt different tonight, the air heavier than usual. Maybe it was the aftermath of the storm, or maybe it was something worse. Either way, my instincts were screaming at me to stay alert.

As I approached the safehouse, a flicker of movement caught my eye. I froze, slipping into the shadows and pulling my dagger free. The figure was tall, broad-shouldered, and moving with the kind of confidence that set my nerves on edge.

Shit.

It was him. Kaelion. How in Vaelthar's name had he found me?

I pressed myself against the wall, cursing under my breath. The lesser district wasn't exactly his kind of territory. But there he was, scanning the alley like a predator hunting its prey.

My heart raced as I debated my options. I could run, but he'd already proven he was faster than I expected. I could fight, but the memory of our last encounter made me hesitate.

Instead, I waited, my breath shallow as he moved closer. He stopped a few feet from where I was hiding, his eyes narrowing as he studied the shadows.

"I know you're there," he said, his voice low and edged with steel. "Come out, or I'll drag you out like the vermin you are."

Arrogant bastard.

I stepped out of the shadows, my dagger held loosely at my side. "You're a long way from your castle, Your Highness. Might I ask what was so important that his highness himself should grace us with his presence? "

He seemed to ponder that for a minute, unease coating his features but it was gone as quickly as it came, I would have missed it had I not been acutely aware of every movement this man makes. His lips then curled into a smirk, though his eyes remained sharp. "And you're a long way from where you're supposed to be. Funny how that works."

How could he know? There's no possible way he knows.

"Bluebird, anyone told you how expressive you are? Must be quite the inconvenience in battle" he chimed, his teeth on full display. A devastating portrait of arrogance.

"My name is Lyraea." I quipped, with all the confidence I could muster. But my heart beat faster than I ever thought it could.

"Believe me I know" he responded.

Wiping the confusion from my face and steadying myself "You've got a habit of sticking your nose where it doesn't belong," I shot back, my grip tightening on my weapon.

"And you've got a habit of running," he said, his tone mocking.

Fuck, he knows

Before I could respond, he lunged. I barely had time to react, dodging his blade by a hair's breadth. The alley erupted into chaos as we clashed, steel against steel.

He was stronger, his movements fueled by brute force, but I was faster, slipping through his defenses like water. The fight was a blur of motion, each strike and counterstrike more desperate than the last.

But I couldn't keep up forever.

Kaelion feinted left, then slammed me against the wall, his blade pressed against my throat. I glared up at him, refusing to show fear even as my pulse pounded in my ears.

"You're good," he said, his voice low. "But not good enough."

"Go to hell," I spat.

His smirk returned, but there was no humor in it. "Ladies first."

For a moment, we stared at each other, the tension thick enough to choke on. Then, in one swift motion, I twisted in his grip, using the momentum to knock his blade aside.

I didn't wait for him to recover. I ran, my heart hammering in my chest as I disappeared into the labyrinth of the lesser district.

Kaelion's voice echoed behind me, low and furious. "You can't run forever, Lyraea."

Maybe not. But in that moment, my legs propelled faster than they ever had.