Chapter 13: The Wolves Close In

A Night of Pursuit

The cold wind cut through the canyon like a blade, carrying the distant echoes of pursuit.

Kael and his group moved swiftly through the narrow valley, their boots crunching against wet stone. The sound of the Blackhold alarm bells had long since faded, but Kael knew better than to assume they were safe.

The Imperial Wardens would not stop.

Darius walked beside him, his breathing steady but slow. Though he had survived Blackhold, he was still weak. His body had not fully recovered, and the forced escape had only made things worse.

Selene kept to his right, her eyes flicking to the cliffs above. "We're being tracked," she whispered.

Kael nodded. He had felt it too.

Even in the dark, the feeling of being watched was unmistakable.

"They're waiting for us to stop," Kael murmured. "They don't need to chase us down. They'll strike when we're exhausted."

Darius exhaled through his nose. "Smart."

Selene frowned. "So what do we do?"

Kael's golden eyes gleamed. "We turn the hunt around."

---

Setting the Trap

The group reached an abandoned hunter's outpost nestled between two cliffs. The structure was barely standing—old, half-broken, likely untouched for years.

Kael scanned their surroundings. This would do.

He turned to Selene. "Set up false trails. Make it look like we passed through."

Selene nodded and disappeared into the dark.

Kael turned to Darius. "Find a high vantage point. If they come from above, I want to know first."

Darius smirked despite his fatigue. "You're starting to sound like a general again."

Kael's lips curled slightly. "I never stopped."

Darius chuckled and moved toward the cliffs.

Finally, Kael faced the masked stranger.

They stood a few paces away, arms crossed, watching him.

Kael studied them for a long moment. "You haven't told me your name."

The figure chuckled. "You haven't earned it yet."

Kael smirked. "We'll see."

He turned back toward the outpost, his mind already working through the next step.

Let the Wardens come.

Tonight, they would learn why Kael Drax was called the Tyrant Emperor.

---

The Ambush

It didn't take long.

Kael heard them before he saw them—the faint rustle of leather, the soft clang of armor, the careful, measured steps of hunters trained to kill.

The Imperial Wardens.

They moved with precision, their dark cloaks barely shifting as they maneuvered through the canyon. They weren't reckless. They were patient. Calculated.

Kael counted at least six. Too many to take head-on.

But that didn't matter.

He wasn't planning to fight them fairly.

Kael positioned himself just outside the outpost, his sword drawn but hidden in the shadows.

Selene was already in position, daggers glinting in the dim light. Darius crouched atop the cliff, ready to strike from above.

The masked stranger? Nowhere to be seen.

Kael focused on the approaching enemies.

The first Warden stepped into the clearing.

Kael moved.

His sword flashed in the moonlight, slicing through the air with terrifying speed. The Warden barely had time to react before Kael's blade buried itself deep into his side.

A muffled grunt. Blood spilled onto the dirt.

Before the others could react—

Selene struck.

She vaulted from the shadows, her daggers finding soft flesh beneath their armor. One Warden collapsed without a sound, his throat cut clean.

Darius unleashed an arrow, the sharp whistle cutting through the air before a third Warden fell.

Three dead. Three remaining.

Kael turned to face them. Their hesitation was gone.

Now, they knew what they were dealing with.

Now, the real fight began.

---

The Tyrant Awakens

The remaining Wardens surged forward.

Kael met the first one head-on, deflecting a vicious strike before twisting and slashing upward. His sword caught the man's shoulder, cutting deep.

The Warden staggered, but didn't fall.

These weren't ordinary soldiers. They wouldn't go down easily.

Selene spun toward the second Warden, engaging him in a deadly dance of steel and speed.

Darius fired another arrow, but the third Warden dodged, closing the distance in an instant. The old general barely had time to draw his blade before their weapons clashed.

Kael blocked another strike, his muscles burning from the force of the blow. He was still weaker than before. His power had not fully returned.

But he was still Kael Drax.

With a feral grin, he stepped into the attack, letting the Warden's blade graze his side. The slight pain was nothing. He had suffered worse.

Before his opponent could pull back, Kael grabbed his wrist and twisted.

Snap.

The Warden's arm broke, his sword falling uselessly to the ground. Kael didn't hesitate.

With a swift motion, he drove his blade through the man's heart.

Only two left.

Selene was still locked in combat, but she was faster. Sharper. With a final, precise strike, her dagger slit the last Warden's throat.

Darius, however, was struggling. His opponent was relentless, merciless. The old general had been strong once, but Blackhold had weakened him.

The Warden raised his sword for the killing blow.

Kael moved.

In the blink of an eye, he was behind the enemy.

And before the Warden could react—

Kael drove his blade through his spine.

The Warden collapsed.

Silence.

Kael exhaled slowly, his heart pounding.

The fight was over.

They had won.

---

The Shadow's Warning

Selene wiped her daggers clean, glancing at the bodies. "Well. That could have gone worse."

Darius sat on a rock, catching his breath. "We need to move. More will come."

Kael nodded. "Agreed."

Then, from the shadows—laughter.

Slow. Amused.

Kael's grip tightened around his sword. "Show yourself."

The masked stranger stepped forward, clapping slowly.

"Well played," they murmured. "I must say… I am impressed."

Kael narrowed his eyes. "You watched."

The figure tilted their head. "I wanted to see what you were capable of."

Selene scoffed. "We could've died, you know."

The stranger chuckled. "And yet, you didn't."

Kael sheathed his sword. "Enough games. Who are you?"

The stranger paused.

Then, slowly, they reached up—removing their mask.

The sight stole Kael's breath.

A woman. Younger than he expected. Dark hair, piercing silver eyes, a scar running down her jaw.

And her face… familiar.

Kael's mind reeled. He had seen this face before. Long ago.

Then she spoke.

"My name is Lyra."

She smiled slightly.

"And you, Kael Drax, are not the only one who should have died a thousand years ago."

Kael's blood turned to ice.

What?

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