Shattered Silence

The explosion rattled the manor, shaking dust from the rafters as the sound of shouting filled the halls.

Evelyn didn't hesitate. "Move. Now."

Ronan was already at the window, scanning the chaos below. "Guards. At least a dozen, blocking every exit."

Damien wiped a speck of blood from his cheek. "Great. I was getting tired of sneaking around anyway."

Lord Vale had vanished in the confusion, but the real threat was still unknown. The cloaked figure—the assassin who had studied them—had disappeared into the smoke before the blast.

Evelyn's mind raced. This wasn't just a response to their intrusion. This was planned. Someone wanted them trapped.

A sharp whistle cut through the air, and from below, archers took position.

Ronan swore. "They're readying arrows."

Evelyn grabbed Damien's wrist, pulling him back. "We're exposed here. We need a way out."

Damien's smirk didn't fade, but his golden eyes sharpened. "I have a way. You're not going to like it."

"Since when do I like any of your ideas?"

He gave a mock-offended look. "Rude." Then, before she could protest, he grabbed hold of the nearest hanging banner, yanked it down, and leapt off the balcony.

Evelyn barely had time to react before she saw him swing down, feet-first, into a group of unsuspecting guards.

They collapsed under the impact, leaving Damien standing in the middle of their groaning bodies, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder. "Well, that worked out nicely."

Ronan shot Evelyn a look. "We're not seriously—"

Evelyn grabbed the next banner and jumped.

Ronan swore under his breath but followed.

They landed in the courtyard, surrounded.

Arrows whistled through the air, but Damien was already moving. He caught a fallen shield mid-roll, using it to deflect the first volley before tossing it like a discus, knocking an archer off balance.

Ronan darted between gaps in the assault, his daggers flashing as he silenced two guards before they could call for reinforcements.

Evelyn's sword sang, cutting through the first wave of enemies. She could feel the shift in the battle—these weren't regular city guards. Their movements were too precise, too trained.

"Mercenaries," she realized, blocking a strike aimed at her ribs.

Damien's grin widened. "Oh, that's fun. Who do you think paid them?"

Before Evelyn could answer, a familiar voice cut through the chaos.

"I was hoping you'd entertain me a little longer, Varcrest."

Evelyn's blood ran cold.

She turned, and there—standing on the balcony above, untouched by the fight—was the assassin.

This time, she had no hood to hide behind.

Golden eyes. The same ones that had watched her in battle, studied her movements, learned every flaw in her technique.

And now, she smiled.

Not the smile of an enemy.

The smile of a predator.

Evelyn tightened her grip on her sword.

"Who are you?"

The assassin tilted her head. "Oh, you don't remember me? How disappointing."

Evelyn's heart pounded.

There was something familiar about her. A whisper in the back of her mind, a piece of her past that she couldn't quite grasp.

The assassin watched her struggle, and for a brief moment, something flickered in her expression—amusement? Pity?

Then, she vanished.

One moment, she was standing there. The next—gone.

Evelyn spun, but it was too late.

A sharp pain exploded in her side.

She gasped, stumbling as the assassin's blade found its mark—not deep enough to kill, but enough to send fire through her ribs.

Damien lunged for the assassin, but she was already retreating, slipping into the smoke and shadows as if she had never been there.

Ronan caught Evelyn before she fell.

"Poison?" he asked quickly.

Evelyn clenched her jaw, pressing a hand to the wound. "No. Just deep enough to hurt."

Damien's expression was unreadable as he stared into the darkness where the assassin had disappeared.

"She's not trying to kill you," he muttered. "She's testing you."

Evelyn met his gaze.

And for the first time since this mission had begun, she felt something far worse than fear.

Recognition.

She had fought this assassin before.

She just didn't remember when.

The manor doors burst open. More mercenaries. More soldiers.

Ronan pulled her arm over his shoulder. "We don't have time for this. We need to go."

Evelyn forced herself to move. The assassin had vanished. Lord Vale had escaped. And they still had no answers.

But as they disappeared into the night, her mind stayed on those golden eyes.

And the question that burned like an open wound.

Who was she?