Chapter 13: Brawls and Betrayals

Chapter 13: Brawls and Betrayals

Silvia's POV

Silvia barely had time to react before Corvin's blade slashed through the air. Dragon yanked her to the side, the tip of the dagger slicing the edge of her coat instead of her ribs.

The tavern erupted into chaos. Chairs scraped against the wooden floors, mugs crashed, and patrons either fled or prepared to join the fight.

Corvin lunged again, his face twisted in fury. "Lark sent you to kill me, didn't she?"

Silvia deflected a blow with her forearm, gritting her teeth at the impact. "If that was the plan, I'd have brought a much bigger fireball."

Dragon stepped in, catching Corvin's wrist mid-swing and twisting it hard. The dagger clattered to the floor. "We don't kill people without good reason," Dragon said, his golden eyes dark with warning. "But keep attacking, and I'll reconsider."

Corvin didn't back down. Instead, he let out a sharp whistle.

And suddenly, they were surrounded.

A Tavern Turned Battlefield

A half-dozen men rose from the shadows—mercenaries, by the look of them. Scarred, armed, and very unhappy to see strangers causing trouble.

Dragon let out a slow breath. "I really hate tavern fights."

Silvia rolled her shoulders. "I don't."

One of the thugs lunged at Dragon with a rusted axe. Dragon ducked, then countered with a brutal kick to the gut that sent the man crashing into a table.

Silvia, meanwhile, ducked under a swinging bottle, grabbed the nearest stool, and smashed it over someone's head. The man staggered, groaned, and collapsed.

Another goon rushed her, knife flashing in the dim lantern light.

Silvia let out a slow breath. Control the fire. Don't let it control you.

She twisted her fingers, summoning a controlled stream of flame. The fire crackled along her palm, coiling like a snake. With a flick of her wrist, it lashed out, searing the blade clean out of the thug's hands. He yelped, clutching his burned fingers as he stumbled back.

Dragon grinned, dodging a punch and slamming an elbow into someone's jaw. "Show-off."

Silvia snorted. "Says the guy who just kicked a man across the room."

Corvin, meanwhile, wasn't done. He snatched up a broken bottle and charged Silvia directly.

But she was ready.

She sidestepped at the last second, grabbed his wrist, and twisted, sending him face-first into the counter. He groaned, dazed, as Silvia pressed a flame-lit hand to the back of his neck.

"You're going to tell me exactly what was in that letter," she said, voice cold. "Or we can see how well you handle a little heat."

The Truth Burns

Corvin spat blood onto the floor. "You don't even know what you're involved in, do you?"

Silvia leaned in, her fire warming his skin. "Enlighten me."

He chuckled darkly. "That letter wasn't just a message. It was a warning."

Silvia frowned. "For who?"

Corvin's gaze flicked to Dragon. "For him."

Dragon's smirk faltered. "Excuse me?"

Silvia tightened her grip. "Explain."

Corvin coughed. "Lark didn't just send you here to deliver a message. She sent you to expose him."

Dragon's jaw clenched. "That lying—"

Before he could finish, the tavern doors burst open, and more armed men stormed in.

Silvia groaned. "Oh, come on."

Corvin laughed through his split lip. "Told you. You're in over your heads."

Dragon rolled his shoulders. "Then let's prove him wrong."

The fight wasn't over yet.

The Fight Intensifies

The newcomers weren't just any hired thugs. Their weapons gleamed, their movements precise. Trained fighters. Not common mercenaries.

Silvia felt the shift immediately. This wasn't just about Corvin anymore—someone had planned this.

Dragon noticed it too. "These guys aren't just random muscle," he muttered, blocking a dagger swipe with his forearm. "Somebody with resources sent them."

Silvia dodged a sword thrust, twisting low and sending a burst of flame at her attacker's legs. He yelped, stumbling back. "Yeah? Got any guesses?"

"Probably the same people who've been hunting us," Dragon replied, launching himself at two fighters at once, his strength sending them crashing into a table.

One of the men barked an order: "Take them alive!"

Silvia's stomach twisted. "Yeah, I don't like that."

The goons pressed in harder, forcing Silvia and Dragon back to back. She barely had time to conjure another flame before a steel net exploded toward them from a hidden launcher on the wall.

Dragon reacted instantly, grabbing Silvia and pulling her down as the net missed by inches.

"Time to go," he gritted out, kicking over a table to create some cover. He grabbed a bottle, smashed it against the counter, and threw the flaming contents toward the group of fighters.

The explosion bought them just enough time.

Silvia took one last look at Corvin, still slumped against the counter, his face twisted in amusement despite his injuries.

"This isn't over," she warned him.

He grinned, bloodied but smug. "Never is."

Dragon pulled her toward the back exit. "We need to move. Now."

As they burst into the night, Silvia knew one thing for sure—they had just made new enemies. And whoever was behind this, they weren't going to stop coming.

After the Escape

They ran through the narrow alleys of Ashen Hold, boots thudding against cobblestone as shouts echoed behind them.

Silvia panted. "Where—are—we—going?"

Dragon pulled her toward a side street, ducking behind a stack of crates. "We need to lay low."

She glanced over her shoulder. The sound of pursuit was fading, but that didn't mean they were safe. "I say we find Lark and make her talk."

Dragon smirked. "As much as I'd love to, that's exactly what they expect us to do."

Silvia frowned. "Then what's the plan?"

Dragon exhaled, looking toward the distant glow of the city's industrial district. "We find answers on our own. But first—" he reached into his coat and pulled out a flask, taking a long drink. "—we survive the night."

Silvia leaned back against the wall, fire still tingling beneath her fingertips. Surviving the night was the easy part. Figuring out who was after them? That was going to be the real fight.