Chapter 11: The Price of Power

The arrow whistled through the air.

Faye barely moved in time.

It slashed across her arm, a sharp bite of pain tearing through her skin before the arrow embedded itself into the tree behind her.

Her body had already moved before she fully processed it—dropping low, spinning, scanning the treeline.

They weren't alone.

She caught the gleam of movement—three, no, four figures shifting within the trees.

Then another arrow flew.

Straight for Kael.

He dodged fast, twisting at an impossible angle, his blade already unsheathed before his feet even touched the ground again.

Riven reacted next. His longsword flashed in the dim light as he moved forward, covering Faye's blind spot.

Lyra had already launched herself into action, moving with a speed that blurred the edges of her form. "We need to split—get them into open ground!"

Too late.

More figures descended from the trees.

Dark-cloaked, faces masked, their movements precise. Trained. Not just common mercenaries.

Rival riders.

Faye recognized the insignia embroidered faintly on their sleeves—the mark of the Wraithborn Pact.

They weren't here to capture.

They were here to kill.

The first one lunged—swords flashing.

Faye parried instinctively, her blade clashing against his in a burst of sparks. She twisted, throwing her weight into a counterattack, forcing him back—only for another to close in from behind.

She spun, barely blocking in time—her wrist screaming in protest as steel bit into her forearm.

Shit.

The first one struck again—Faye moved too slow—a blade cut deep into her side.

Pain flared, white-hot.

Too slow.

The realization hit like a gut punch.

She wasn't fast enough.

She wasn't strong enough.

And if she didn't do something, she was going to die here.

Lyra's voice cut through the chaos. "Faye—MOVE!"

Another strike came, aimed for her throat—but before it could land, Shadowflame erupted from Faye's palm, lashing out violently.

The enemy barely had time to scream before the flames consumed him, devouring him whole.

Faye's pulse thundered.

The others hesitated.

A mistake.

She lunged.

This time, she didn't hold back.

Shadowflame coiled around her like a living thing, striking as she moved—erasing steel, armor, and flesh in its wake.

One by one, the assassins fell.

But her body was already giving out.

She felt it—a terrible pull deep within her bones, like something was being torn from her with every second she used her power.

The side wound throbbed. Her arms shook.

The last assassin hesitated—just for a breath.

It was enough.

Riven moved, cutting him down before he could retreat.

Silence.

The clearing reeked of charred earth and blood.

Faye swayed.

Kael was there instantly, catching her before she collapsed completely.

Her breath was ragged, the pain spreading through her like fire.

"I—" she started.

Then she felt it.

A warm, sticky wetness pooling beneath her armor.

Kael's expression darkened as he shifted her weight, lifting her arm just slightly—revealing the full extent of the wound at her side.

Deep. Bleeding too fast.

Shit.

Her vision flickered.

Kael tightened his grip. "Stay awake."

She tried. She really tried.

But the world had already begun to fade.