We must prove we're better

Chapter 3 : we must prove we're better

Sylas entered the dimly lit cabin, the floor creaking beneath his boots. Kael waited outside, ever watchful. Inside, a boy lounged in a chair, his smirk lazy yet sharp.

"What brings you here?" Zulekha asked, eyeing Sylas with amusement.

Without a word, Sylas pulled a small glass vial from his pouch and tossed it onto the table. The liquid inside shimmered faintly under the flickering lantern light.

"Ahora medicine," Sylas said flatly. "As promised."

Zulekha picked up the vial, rolling it between his fingers. "Precious stuff. I didn't think you'd actually get it."

"Just give me the information," Sylas replied, his voice cold. "Then I'll be on my way."

Zulekha sighed, feigning disappointment. "You're no fun. Fine, I'll tell you. In one week, the imperial knights will arrive in the village."

Sylas narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

Zulekha leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head. "The Orphanage of Faith is under suspicion for harboring a demon. But the timing might be off—the source of the information is... unreliable."

Sylas' jaw tightened. Demon, those don't even exist.

"You got anything else?"

Zulekha smirked, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "I think this much is worth the Ahora medicine."

Sylas' stare turned cold. "I'm not here to play games."

Zulekha hesitated. Then, with a nervous chuckle, he tapped the wooden table. "Fine. Up north, in the Ruins, there are artifacts. Ethereal ones. Said to grant immense power. Even King Zephyr supposedly used one."

Sylas scoffed, his skepticism evident. "How many times do I have to say this? I don't believe in that supernatural bullshit."

Zulekha shrugged. "That's what I thought, too. But the intel was solid. I saw a demonstration. Objects moving without touch. Thoughts being read. It's real, Sylas. And it's the only way for people like us to get strong."

Sylas' expression didn't change. "Cheap tricks don't convince me."

Zulekha sighed, slumping in his chair. "I just wanted a acquaintance to know, that's all."

Before Sylas could respond, a loud crash echoed from outside.

His heart clenched. Wrong timing.

He spun toward the entrance. Kael stood over a bloodied boy, fists clenched. The kid groaned, barely conscious.

Sylas's voice was sharp. "Kael, what the hell?"

Kael wiped a smear of blood from his cheek. "He talked shit about my mother. I knocked some sense into this freak."

Sylas's gaze hardened. "enough. We're done here. Return the vial."

Zulekha scowled, but tossed the vial back. Sylas caught it mid-air, his fingers brushing the cool glass.

What a waste of time, muttered sylas,

A voice from the back of the room pierced the tension.

"He's lying! We never said anything about his mother!"

Figures shifted in the shadows, eyes glinting with malice. The atmosphere thickened, charged with imminent violence.

Sylas moved fast. He leaned in and whispered to Kael, "Plan B."

Kael didn't need another word.

Zulekha's face twisted into a snarl. "Catch those bastards!"

The room erupted into chaos.

Sylas spun on his heel, dashing toward the alley. Behind him, the pounding of boots echoed. Kael was already ahead, his movements swift and fluid, scaling the darkened rooftops.

Sylas kept low, ducking through side streets, narrowly avoiding hands that reached for him.

"Split up!" Kael's voice rang out from above.

Sylas veered right. Two men followed, cursing as they struggled to keep up. He glanced over his shoulder, his pulse quickening. He was close—just a few more blocks.

He rounded a corner, seizing a loose barrel and hurling it behind him. It crashed into his pursuers, sending them tumbling, swearing in frustration.

Kael, ever the acrobat, leaped from one rooftop to the next. Someone tried to climb after him, but Kael twisted mid-air and kicked the man off the edge with deadly precision.

The orphanage was close. Just a few more moments.

Sylas breathed in, eyes focused on the familiar gates.

Kael sprinted through the gates, boots skimming the dirt as he raced past the barrels stacked near the entrance.

Sylas wasn't far behind, adrenaline pushing him to the limits. Just a few steps more.

He reached the gates and stopped, turning to see the others closing in. No time left.

"Kael, now!" Sylas shouted.

Without hesitation, Kael kicked the barrels, sending them tumbling down the street. Sylas dropped to the ground, flattening himself as the barrels rolled past him, crashing into the men who were hot on their trail. The sound of splintering wood filled the air.

The men struggled to recover, but before they could regain their footing, Sylas dashed past them, through the gates, and slammed them shut behind him.

BANG! The pursuers slammed into the gates, fists pounding on the sturdy wood. But the beams held.

Inside, the orphanage was quiet. Flickering lanterns cast long, eerie shadows on the wooden walls. The orphans stared at them, wide-eyed, frozen between fear and curiosity.

Then, a sharp voice broke the silence.

"What the hell did you two do?"

A nun stood before them, arms crossed, her usually warm gaze now sharpened with suspicion.

Sylas, panting and sweating, ran a hand through his damp hair. He stepped forward, his movements deliberate. Without a word, he pulled out the small vial and placed it in her hand—the Ahora medicine.

He smirked, voice rough with exhaustion but laced with defiance. "I did some dirty work."

The nun's fingers closed around the vial, her expression unreadable. The silence stretched on, thick with the weight of his words. Outside, the pounding on the gates grew louder, more desperate.

After what felt like an eternity, she spoke, her voice quieter this time. "You're going to get yourselves killed."

Kael, still catching his breath, muttered, "Not if we get stronger first."

Sylas met her gaze, his smirk fading slightly. "Not if we prove we're better."

She stared at him, her expression unreadable, a storm brewing behind her eyes. Then, without a word, she turned, gesturing for Sylas to follow. He hesitated only for a moment, sensing the weight in her silence, the shadow in her gaze. Whatever she had remembered, it wasn't good.