Chapter 3 – The Price of Power

Smoke.

Ash.

Voss struggled to breathe, her head pounding from the force of the blast. She had unleashed everything.

Too much.

She was strong. But she wasn't invincible.

Soren pulled her up, his grip firm. "You're insane."

Voss coughed. "We're alive, aren't we?"

Through the haze of dust, the sorceress was nowhere to be seen.

Voss didn't know if she was dead or if she had simply vanished again.

But it didn't matter.

The path was clear

The path was clear.

For now.

Voss wiped blood from the corner of her mouth, her body aching from the overuse of magic. She had burned too much too fast.

But they didn't have time to rest.

Soren was already moving, his posture too controlled for someone who had just survived an explosion.

Still no questions. No panic. Just cold efficiency.

Voss narrowed her eyes. "You've done this before."

He didn't look at her. "Keep moving."

Not an answer.

Voss gritted her teeth but followed, her legs protesting with every step. Her fire was drained, her vision blurry.

But they were almost free.

The corridor opened into a massive stone bridge, suspended over a deep, fog-choked chasm.

Beyond it—the exit.

Freedom.

Soren exhaled sharply. "We're not safe yet."

No.

Because as soon as they stepped onto the bridge, the air shifted.

And the gate ahead of them slammed shut.

Voss's stomach twisted.

A shadow moved on the far side.

Not the sorceress.

Something worse.

Armored. Towering. Cloaked in unnatural darkness.

And when it stepped forward, the fog parted just enough to reveal its face—

No.

Not a face. A helmet.

Black iron, engraved with runes that pulsed like a heartbeat.

Voss had seen that armor before.

Everyone had.

Because there was only one being in the High Lord's army who wore it.

And he was already drawing his sword.

A Shadow Knight.

One of the High Lord's personal enforcers.

Voss's breath caught in her throat. They were supposed to be legends.

Unkillable. Unstoppable.

Soren muttered a curse.

The knight raised his blade.

And then—he charged.

---

The First Strike

He moved fast.

Faster than something that size should be able to move.

Soren barely dodged in time, twisting aside as the knight's blade shattered the stone where he had stood.

The force alone sent Voss staggering back.

No time to think. No time to hesitate.

She ignited her flames. Pushed past the exhaustion.

Then hurled a firestorm straight at the knight.

The bridge glowed with heat. The air burned. The stone cracked—

And the knight walked through it.

Untouched.

Voss's heart pounded. No.

That wasn't possible.

The knight raised his free hand.

Dark runes flared to life along his gauntlet—

And her fire died.

Extinguished.

The air turned cold.

Voss staggered, the sudden loss of magic hitting her like a punch to the gut. Her fire wasn't just blocked—it was absorbed.

The knight tilted his head, as if unimpressed.

Then, he swung his sword.

Voss barely rolled away before it carved through the stone where she had stood.

Soren lunged, twin daggers flashing. A blur of movement.

He was fast. Precise. Deadly.

But the knight was faster.

A single counter-strike—and Soren was sent flying.

He hit the ground hard, sliding to the edge of the bridge. Dazed. Bleeding.

Voss's pulse roared in her ears.

She had to move. Had to think.

Because the knight was already coming for her.

And she was out of fire.

The knight's sword whistled through the air as it came for her.

Voss barely twisted in time, the blade missing her throat by inches.

Too fast. Too strong.

She leapt back, heart hammering, her mind racing for a solution. No fire. No time.

Soren was still on the ground, struggling to rise.

She was on her own.

The knight advanced.

Voss gritted her teeth. Think.

She had fought warriors before. But this wasn't just a warrior.

He didn't fight like a man. He fought like something…designed to kill.

Her mind snapped to the stories—Shadow Knights were the High Lord's chosen enforcers. His executioners.

They didn't die.

They didn't stop.

And now, one of them was standing between her and freedom.

No.

She wouldn't die here.

Voss shifted her stance. No fire, fine. She still had her blade.

She drew it in a single smooth motion.

And the knight laughed.

It was a deep, distorted sound, coming from beneath that black iron helmet.

Then he lunged.

---

A Battle of Steel

Voss parried the first strike, but the force behind it nearly wrenched her sword from her grip.

She countered, slashing low.

Fast. Precise.

The knight caught her blade with his gauntlet.

Voss's breath caught. What?

He twisted his wrist, wrenching her sword aside like it was nothing.

Then he drove his knee into her ribs.

Pain exploded through her body.

She barely managed to roll with the impact, landing in a crouch, gasping for breath.

The knight stepped forward, unrushed.

Voss's fingers tightened around her blade.

Her vision blurred from the pain, but she forced herself to focus.

One clean strike. That's all she needed.

The knight raised his sword for the finishing blow.

Voss shifted her weight.

Then, at the last moment—

She dropped low and swept his legs.

A direct hit.

But he didn't fall.

The knight didn't even stumble.

Instead, he reached down—

And caught her by the throat.

---

The Edge of Death

Voss choked.

His grip was crushing.

Her feet lifted off the ground.

She kicked, struggled, clawed at his gauntlet—but he didn't react.

The knight simply held her there, head tilting slightly.

As if he were…disappointed.

Then he spoke.

His voice was deep, inhuman.

"You are nothing."

His gauntlet began to glow.

Dark magic seeped into her skin.

Cold. Ancient. Rotting.

Her veins burned.

A sudden, sharp memory flashed through her mind—

Chains. A throne. A voice, whispering in the dark.

You were never meant to live.

No.

Not like this.

Not again.

A snarl tore from her throat.

And something inside her snapped.

A surge of power erupted through her veins—

And Shadow Magic answered.

---

The Shadow Awakens

Black fire burst from her skin.

The knight recoiled—but he didn't let go.

The runes on his gauntlet fought against hers.

Darkness against darkness.

Voss focused everything she had.

The shadows surged—and for the first time, the knight faltered.

His grip loosened for half a second.

It was all she needed.

Voss twisted, braced her feet against his chest—

And kicked off.

She wrenched free, landing hard on the stone bridge, gasping.

Her shadow fire didn't stop.

It clung to her skin, alive. Writhing.

The knight stood where he was. Watching.

Then, slowly—

He lowered his sword.

And then, in a voice colder than death itself—

He spoke her name.

"Voss."

Her stomach turned to ice.

He knew her.

The knight took a step forward.

And for the first time…Voss felt true fear.