Chapter 15: Ms. Solmere

The first light of dawn painted the sky in soft hues of orange and pink as Raen and Kieran's group prepared to leave Velorn.

The village was quiet, the air crisp with the chill of early morning. Raen adjusted the strap of his pack, glancing back at the small cluster of cottages.

The village elder, Marlen, stood at the edge of the road, his weathered face unreadable. As the group began to move, Marlen raised a hand, his voice low but clear.

"The road ahead is not what it seems," he said, his words carrying a weight that made Raen pause. "Beware the storms—both in the sky and within yourselves."

Raen frowned, his mind racing. What did he mean by that? Storms in the sky, sure—those Sol storms are dangerous. But storms within ourselves?

He wanted to ask more, but Kieran nudged him forward. "Let's go. We've got a long way to travel."

The group set off, the forest around them slowly thinning as they moved further from Velorn. The road beneath their feet grew rougher, the smooth dirt path giving way to uneven stones and patches of stubborn weeds.

Raen kept his eyes on the horizon, where faint flashes of light occasionally lit up the sky—distant Sol storms, crackling with energy. He shivered, though not from the cold. What kind of power creates storms like that? And why are they getting closer?

As they walked, Raen's thoughts drifted back to the trial. The Hollow King's cold, calculating gaze still haunted him.

What would have happened if I'd been sent back to Veywick? Would I have been safe? Or would the Hollow King have found me anyway?

He shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away, but they lingered like a shadow.

---

By midday, the group reached a rocky outcrop, its jagged edges casting long shadows over the ground. Kieran called for a rest, and the group settled in the shade.

Raen sat on a flat rock, chewing on a piece of dried meat, when Roth approached. The tall warrior was sharpening his blade, the rhythmic scrape of metal against stone filling the air.

"Didn't think you'd still be with us," Roth said casually, not looking up from his task.

Raen glanced at him, surprised. "What do you mean?"

Roth shrugged. "After the trial. We figured you'd be sent back to your village. But here you are."

Raen's brow furrowed. Why wasn't I sent back?

He had assumed it was just luck, but now he wasn't so sure. "Why wasn't I? I thought the trial would send me back."

Roth paused, his blade resting on his knee. "When we told the Hollow King to get out of the battlefield, the magic must've grabbed you too. You got pulled along with us instead of going back." He smirked slightly. "Lucky for you, huh?"

Raen stared at him, the words sinking in. Lucky?

He hadn't realized how close he'd come to being sent back—or worse. The thought made his stomach twist.

What if I'd been sent back alone? Would the Hollow King have come for me? Or would I have been left to face whatever's waiting in Veywick?

He swallowed hard, trying to push the fear down. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Lucky."

Roth studied him for a moment, then went back to sharpening his blade. "You've got a lot to learn about this world, kid. Titan Land, for one."

Raen perked up at the unfamiliar name. Titan Land? It sounded like something out of a legend. "Titan Land? What's that?"

Roth's eyes gleamed with a hint of amusement. "You've never heard of it? Figures. It's not exactly a place people talk about lightly." He leaned back, his tone turning serious. "It's a land of war. Long ago, massive beings—Titans—fought there for dominance. Now it's just ruins, but powerful forces still fight over it. Even the Gods want it back."

Raen's mind raced as he tried to process the information. Titans? Gods? It was hard to imagine beings of that scale, let alone a land where they had once clashed. "And the Hollow King? What does he have to do with it?"

Roth's smirk returned. "Let's just say he's not a fan of the Gods. He's been holding them off for a long time." He stood, sheathing his blade. "You'll see for yourself soon enough. Titan Land's not the kind of place you forget."

Raen sat in silence, his thoughts swirling. The Hollow King is fighting the Gods? And Titan Land is at the center of it all?

The world outside Veywick was far bigger—and far more dangerous—than he'd ever imagined. He felt a mix of awe and unease. How am I supposed to survive in a world like this?

As the group prepared to move on, Raen couldn't shake the feeling that his journey was only just beginning.

The road ahead was uncertain, and the storms—both in the sky and within himself—were growing closer. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. Whatever's coming, I'll face it. I have to.

But deep down, he couldn't ignore the gnawing doubt. Will I be strong enough?

---

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the city square in a dim, eerie glow. The air was thick with tension as a crowd gathered, their murmurs creating a low, restless hum.

At the center of the square stood a wooden platform, where a man knelt, his hands bound and his head bowed. Masked executioners flanked him, their faces obscured by dark cloth, their movements precise and deliberate.

The man on the platform raised his head, his eyes scanning the crowd.

There was no fear in his gaze, only defiance. "You think this will change anything?" he called out, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "You think killing me will silence the truth?"

The crowd shifted uneasily, some looking away, others whispering to one another. The executioners ignored him, one stepping forward with a long, curved blade.

The man's words seemed to hang in the air, unanswered.

But before the blade could fall, chaos erupted.

From the edges of the square, figures clad in dark clothing moved with lethal precision. They were swift and silent, their weapons flashing in the fading light.

The executioners barely had time to react before they were struck down, their bodies crumpling to the ground.

The crowd screamed, scattering in all directions as the assassins completed their mission.

Among them was a young girl, her movements fluid and deadly. She moved like a shadow, her expression calm but focused.

As the last executioner fell, she stepped onto the platform, her eyes meeting those of the bound man. Without a word, she cut his bonds and helped him to his feet.

"Go," she said quietly, her voice firm but not unkind. "You've done your part. Now disappear."

The man hesitated, his defiance giving way to gratitude. He nodded once, then melted into the chaos of the fleeing crowd.

The girl watched him go, her expression unreadable. Around her, the other assassins were already retreating, their task complete.

For a moment, she stood alone on the platform, the bodies of the executioners at her feet. The square was empty now, the silence eerie after the chaos.

She glanced down at the blood staining her hands, her thoughts a whirlwind. This is what it means to fight for something greater. This is what it means to survive.

But beneath her calm exterior, a flicker of doubt lingered. How many more will die before this is over? How many more lives will I take?

She pushed the thought aside, hardening her resolve. There was no room for hesitation, not in this world.

As she turned to leave, one of the other assassins approached her.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, his face hidden behind a mask. "Well done, Ms. Solmere," he said, his voice low and respectful. "The Syndicate won't soon forget this."

The girl nodded, her expression unreadable. "They'll try to retaliate. We need to be ready."

The assassin nodded. "We will be. But for now, let's get out of here. The others are waiting."

Solmere glanced back at the square one last time, her eyes lingering on the bodies of the executioners. This is just the beginning, she thought. The real fight is still ahead.

As she turned to follow the assassin, she spoke softly, her voice carrying a weight that belied her young age.

"They think they can silence us with fear. But fear is just another weapon. And we've learned how to wield it."

The assassin paused, looking at her with a mix of admiration and something else—something almost like concern. "You've come a long way, Solmere. But don't forget why we fight. Don't let the blood on your hands drown out the fire in your heart."

Solmere's gaze hardened, but she didn't respond. Instead, she turned and walked away, her footsteps silent against the cobblestones.

The assassin watched her go, his expression unreadable behind his mask. She's just a kid, he thought. But she's already seen more than most of us ever will.

As Solmere disappeared into the night, her thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions. I wasn't strong enough to save them then. I will never be weak again.

But deep down, she couldn't shake the fear. What if I'm not strong enough? What if I fail again?

Only time would tell.