Epiphany

Bodies. The streets were lined with them, but not as many as I expected.

This wasn't a slaughter but a transition.

My breath was steady, but only because I forced it to be. The irony stink clung to the air, mixing with the acrid smoke curling from shattered buildings. Somewhere in the distance, steel clashed against steel. But it was further now. Less chaotic.

Rowan moved beside me, his steps careful but quick. Reinforcement magic still hummed around his limbs, a quiet glow beneath the filth and ash that clung to him.

I wasn't afraid. That would have been easier.

Fear is a reaction, but more than that, it is a limiter. It forces hesitation, makes people second-guess, narrows their focus to survival alone. Fear reduces a person to their most basic instincts—fight, flee, or freeze. And when those instincts take over, rationality is lost. Decisions become desperate. Predictable. Easy to control.

The city had been burning, but now the flames weren't spreading. The streets had been filled with chaos, but now the screaming had dulled. The enemy had come in force, yet they weren't hunting down every last defender, weren't tearing through homes without reason.

We continued running, the sound of our feet pounding against the cracked streets echoing.

Rowan's voice broke through the silence. "I can't help but think… this isn't how it should be. People shouldn't be forced into this kind of chaos. Not like this."

I glanced at him, his expression soft, eyes filled with concern. It wasn't the usual cold logic I was used to.

"I know. But it's happening. And we have to deal with it," I said, my voice tight with the weight of the situation.

Rowan nodded but didn't seem entirely convinced. "I've been to battles before. I know how cruel it can get. But... seeing it happen suddenly to the innocent like this—it feels wrong."

His expression softened further, but there was a quiet steel behind his gaze.

"You're right," I said, glancing back at him. "It feels wrong, but we can't fix that right now."

Rowan's lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes darkening for a moment. "I just wish there was a way to stop this pain without causing more of it. If one's life can save five others, But…" He trailed off, the weight of the thought settling on him.

His voice dropped, more to himself than to me. "I've seen what's worth fighting for. And if it comes down to it… I'd rather give everythi—" 

I lifted a hand cutting him off.

Rowan stopped mid-sentence, his body tensing at my sudden gesture. His eyes followed my gaze as I pressed myself against the wall and peered around the corner.

Down the street, marching in perfect formation, were enemy soldiers. Their armor gleamed under the dim torchlight, weapons ready at their sides.

I focused more on the marching soldiers and saw that they were surrounding a person.

There was a figure with a green cloak that cast shadow over their features, hiding their identity. They were around a head taller than me and were moving deliberate but cautious with their hands in their sleeves.

I gestured Rowan to follow me and ran quietly around the narrow alleys until I could see the soldiers from a different angle.

Rowan stood behind me. "What happened" He asked, concern obvious in his tone and expression.

"That person in the cloak must be someone important, they're being escorted to that cart over there." I looked at the horseless cart with artifacts, Rowan following my gaze. It was one of the creations Raevaryn has. "They're obviously trying to hide their identity from which can only be us Velmerans." I continued. "They must be someone who could be recognized by normal civilians if they're trying so hard."

Rowan's brows were lifted slightly in surprise but the tensions in his features instantly changed to be firmer. A slight nod of agreement followed

The cloaked figure moved without hesitation, stepping toward the cart as the soldiers adjusted their formation around him. One of them pulled the door open, and for a brief moment, I caught a glimpse of the inside—dimly lit, lined with polished metal, and reinforced with artifacts. 

I shifted my focus back to the figure. Just as he placed a foot onto the step, he turned slightly to the side. His hood still concealed most of his face, but I could see his lips moving, speaking to someone standing just outside my view.

I frowned. Another person?

Rowan must have caught my tension. "What is it?" he whispered.

"There's someone else," I muttered back. I tried to shift for a better angle, all I could see was a partial silhouette, obscured by the soldiers. Slightly taller than the cloaked figure, their stance was rigid—military, maybe.

The cloaked man nodded once, then stepped fully inside. The door clicked shut, and within seconds, the cart hummed to life.

I clenched my jaw.

It moved smoothly at first, rolling forward without any visible force. Then, in an instant, it surged ahead, the artifacts built into its structure flaring faintly.

"Fast," I murmured. Too fast. If we lost sight of it now, we'd never catch up.

Rowan exhaled sharply. "Are we following?"

I barely heard him. My attention was still locked on the last glimpse of the cloaked figure. Now that he was inside, I could see more of him, I knew.

That was Veyren Dallis, one of Velmera's Ministerial Council Members. A man with direct influence over the city's military. I know him from when dad and I went to a meeting, I was just tagging along then.

Rowan's long sigh behind my took my attention. "That explains how the enemy infiltrated." He said with a long frown, his eyebrows knit together. 

"Do you know who the other person is?" I asked.

Rowan shook his head at first, but his eyes lingered on the second figure. Then his frown deepened, and his lips parted slightly, as if in reluctant recognition.

"…Varik Kael," he said, voice low. "He was one of Raevaryn's top generals during their war against Solmara."

I turned to him, waiting. Rowan's gaze didn't leave the figure.

"They called him 'The Butcher.' I don't know the full story, but he was the one leading the worst of their battles. If he's here…" Rowan exhaled sharply. "This isn't just about taking the city. There's something more."

I glanced back toward the cart, already speeding away down the street. My mind raced through the possibilities. A high-ranking Velmeran official and a notorious Raevaryn general—together.

The implications were too many to count.

I clenched my jaw, my mind shifting from observation to action. This is something planned far deeper than what we'd seen on the surface. And if we stood here doing nothing, we'd be left in the dark.

I took a breath, steadying myself.

"We follow," I said.

Rowan turned to me sharply. "Julian, that cart is moving fast. Even if we knew where it was heading—"

"I don't plan on chasing it," I cut in. "But we're not just going to stand here, either."

His expression wavered between concern and understanding.

"If Veyren Dallis is involved, this war was lost before it even began," I continued. "We need to know how deep this goes. And that means we find someone who does."

Rowan's lips pressed into a thin line. Then, he nodded.

I turned away from the street, my mind already sifting through the city's layout.

We moved swiftly through the backstreets, keeping low, keeping quiet. The alleys twisted and narrowed, the shadows pressing against us as we ran.

The distant echoes of marching boots and the occasional flare of torchlight forced us to slow our pace at times, but we never stopped.

I kept my focus ahead, my mind mapping the streets even as my body worked on instinct. The cart was moving toward the inner districts—toward the government quarter, most likely. If we cut through the lower markets, we might get ahead of it.

Rowan ran beside me, his footfalls quiet despite his heavier frame. He was good at this—better than I would have expected for someone training to be a knight.

A sharp whistle rang out in the distance.

We both skidded to a stop, pressing ourselves against the damp stone wall of a nearby building. I glanced at Rowan. He met my eyes, silent, waiting.

Another whistle. Closer this time. A signal.

The enemy was coordinating.

I peeked around the corner. A group of soldiers had stopped at a crossroad up ahead. They were scanning the area, their posture tense, alert.

I shifted back, exhaling through my nose. "We need a different route."

Rowan nodded, already scanning the nearby structures. "Over there," he whispered, pointing toward a narrow passage between two buildings. "Might be a tight fit, but it gets us around them."

I didn't hesitate. We slipped through the gap, the rough stone scraping against our clothes. The space was barely wide enough for us to move single file, but it opened into a small courtyard after a few steps.

Rowan exhaled in relief. "This place is a maze."

"That's what keeps us alive," I muttered, already moving again.

The cart that was getting further away as we ran slowed down.

I grabbed Rowan's arm and pulled him back into the shadows of a ruined storefront. The street ahead was empty apart from the enemy soldiers, their armor catching the glow of nearby lanterns. The cart rolled to a stop at the edge of a narrow alleyway, hidden from most of the city's view. Too precise, too deliberate. This wasn't a random stop.

Rowan pressed his back against the wall beside me, barely breathing. I could feel his tension through the slight shift of his posture, but his voice remained steady. "Why are they stopping?"

"I don't know," I murmured, watching closely.

The driver stepped down, moving to the side as two soldiers approached the back. A low clank echoed as they unlocked the reinforced doors. Then, out stepped Veyren Dallis, his green cloak shifting as he adjusted it over his shoulders. My jaw clenched as I watched the familiar authority in his posture.

Behind him, another figure emerged.

His body was well built—broad, powerful, every muscle forged for battle. His sheer size alone made him imposing, the way he carried himself with utmost confidence.

Under the dim torchlight, I could make out the jagged scars that traced across his forearms and the side of his neck. His armor was practical, reinforced but worn, dark metal dulled from use.

His face was as unyielding as the rest of him. A heavy brow shadowed cold, calculating eyes. His jaw was set firm, his mouth a thin, unmovable line.

This wasn't a man who needed to prove his strength. It was already evident in the way he stood.

The two politicians went into a half ruined building with dim light. Two guards stood at the door and three other were at each side of the building. 

I pressed myself against the opposide building and gestured toward a single guard doing his patrol.

Without wasting any time Rowan reinforced his body, jumped on the wall and took out the guard with just one sudden hit to the back of the head.

I crossed the road without being seen as Rowan carried the unconscious body to the dark alley.

I pressed myself against the wall, Rowan mirroring my movement just behind me. We were close enough now that the low murmurs between Dallis and Varik almost reached us, but the wind carried their words away before I could make sense of them.

I shifted slightly, trying to find a better angle. If we could just get a little closer—

A sharp crunch broke through the night air.

I stilled. So did Rowan.

Bootsteps.

My pulse slowed, mind sharpening as I counted the movement. Two, maybe three soldiers, patrolling the area. They weren't close yet, but the path they were taking would lead them straight to us.

Rowan's breath was steady, his body tense beside me.

I met his gaze and motioned subtly toward the alley branching off to our left. If we moved fast enough, we could hide before they saw us.

Before we could take the first step, a flicker of light washed over the corner of the alley—

Torchlight.

I turned my head just slightly and saw them. Three enemy soldiers. 

Rowan and I hid behind the wall of the building with nowhere to go at this dead end.

"Enemies!" A soldier screamed and a whistle along with a bright red light in the alley.

Damn it.