A NAME FROM THE PAST

Asha sat in the dim light of the Black Hollow, staring at the parchment the Veiled Mistress had given her. The name written in careful, slanted script sent a cold wave through her veins.

General Saren Voss.

One of the warlord's most trusted men. A ruthless commander, known for his brutal tactics in war and his even crueler methods off the battlefield. He had been there the night her family was slaughtered. He was one of the men who had ordered the deaths of innocent people.

Asha clenched her jaw. This wasn't just another step in her path for vengeance—this was personal.

She looked up at the Veiled Mistress, whose masked face remained unreadable.

"Where is he?" Asha asked, her voice even.

"In the fortress of Blackspire, two days north of here." The Mistress leaned forward, her fingers tapping the table. "He commands the garrison there. A heavily guarded stronghold. Killing him will not be easy."

Asha's mind was already working through the possibilities. Infiltrating a fortress was far different from assassinating a noble in his bedchamber. She would need more than stealth—she would need a plan.

"I assume you have information that will help," Asha said, folding the parchment.

The Mistress gave a soft chuckle. "I do. But you will have to earn it."

Asha's eyes narrowed. She should have known there was a catch.

"What do you want?"

The Mistress lifted her hand, and a nearby attendant stepped forward, placing a small wooden box on the table. The Mistress opened it, revealing a sealed letter.

"There is a merchant in Vareth named Orlen Varro," she said. "He operates under the warlord's banner, smuggling weapons and supplies. I want him removed."

Asha raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

The Mistress smiled. "That is not your concern. Only that he dies."

Asha exhaled. Another job before she could reach Saren Voss. But if the Mistress could provide valuable intelligence on Blackspire, she had no choice.

"Fine," Asha said. "It will be done."

"Good." The Mistress slid the letter forward. "This will grant you access to his estate. He has a meeting tomorrow night with his associates. It will be your best opportunity."

Asha took the letter and stood. She had work to do.

The Merchant's Last Deal

Asha watched from the rooftop across from Orlen Varro's estate. The merchant's house was well-guarded, with sentries patrolling the perimeter. Lanterns glowed in the windows, casting flickering shadows on the walls.

Below, a group of men arrived at the gate, exchanging words with the guards before being allowed in. These must be his associates—the ones funding his operations.

Asha's fingers tightened around the hilt of her dagger.

She wasn't just killing a merchant tonight. She was sending a message.

She moved swiftly, scaling down the side of the building she perched on and slipping into the alley. She had memorized the patrol patterns, and as soon as the nearest guard rounded the corner, she struck.

A quick slash to the throat, a body dragged into the shadows. Silent. Efficient.

She took his key ring and approached the side entrance, unlocking the door and slipping inside. The house smelled of scented oils and rich wine. Footsteps echoed from the main hall—deep voices discussing trade routes and shipments.

Asha moved like a ghost through the corridors, her ears tuned to every sound. She found the study, where Varro was speaking with his guests. Peering through a crack in the door, she saw him—an older man with a thick beard and fine robes, his rings gleaming in the candlelight. He laughed as he poured wine into a goblet, his voice dripping with arrogance.

Her fingers twitched around the handle of her blade.

She could take him now. A quick throw, a knife to the throat. But that would alert the others. She needed them to see. To fear.

Asha waited until the conversation lulled, then made her move. She slipped into the room, throwing a small vial onto the floor. A hiss of smoke filled the air, and the men coughed, their vision blurred.

In the chaos, she struck.

Her dagger plunged into Varro's chest before he could react. His eyes widened, mouth opening in a silent scream as blood bubbled from his lips. She twisted the blade, ensuring he would not survive.

The other men scrambled to flee, but Asha grabbed one by the collar and slammed him against the wall.

"Tell your masters," she whispered. "The warlord's men are being hunted."

Then she vanished into the shadows.

A Step Closer

By the time Asha returned to the Black Hollow, the city was already buzzing with news of Orlen Varro's assassination. The merchant's death had sent ripples through the underworld—his allies were panicking, his enemies emboldened.

The Veiled Mistress was waiting for her in the same spot as before.

"Well done," she said as Asha sat. "Varro's death will shift the balance of power in Vareth."

Asha didn't care about balance. She cared about her next target.

"Saren Voss," she said. "Tell me everything."

The Mistress nodded. "Blackspire is a fortress built into the cliffs. Impenetrable to an army. But not to an assassin."

She placed a map on the table, tracing a path with her gloved finger.

"There is a hidden passage through the caves below. It leads to the lower levels, near the barracks. Few know of its existence."

Asha studied the map. "And Voss?"

"He resides in the upper keep, heavily guarded. He does not leave the fortress often."

Asha frowned. "Then I'll have to make him come to me."

The Mistress tilted her head. "Do you have a plan?"

Asha smirked. "I will."

She memorized the map, then folded it and stood. "I leave at first light."

The Mistress inclined her head. "Good hunting, Asha."

As Asha stepped into the night, her heart pounded with anticipation.

Saren Voss was within her reach.

And soon, he would be dead.