Chapter 28: Shadows in the Firelight

The embers of burning homes crackled in the distance, casting an eerie glow against the night sky. The eastern quarter of Velmire had become a war zone, though few would name it as such. It wasn't a clash of armies, not yet—but blood had been spilled, and the streets reeked of fear.

Aedric, crouched low behind a crumbling wall, steadied his breath. The distant shouts of Gorran's enforcers echoed through the alleys, their boots thudding against cobblestone as they continued their brutal purge. The people of the slums weren't fighters, not most of them. But tonight, many would die like warriors, whether they had wanted to or not.

Lirian knelt beside him, eyes sharp as she scanned the street ahead. "They're closing in," she whispered. "We need to move."

Varen, positioned slightly behind them, clutched a dagger in each hand. "If Dorn is anywhere near here, he's already in the thick of it."

Aedric exhaled slowly. "Then we find him before he gets himself killed."

The three moved swiftly through the alley, staying in the shadows, careful to avoid the roving enforcers. The slums were alive with movement—people running, others hiding, some carrying what little they could as they fled deeper into the city's labyrinth.

Aedric knew this chaos was exactly what Gorran wanted. Terror was the real weapon. If the people were too afraid to fight back, the rebellion would end before it ever had a chance to begin.

"Over there," Lirian hissed, pulling Aedric to a stop.

Across the street, near a collapsed building, a group of enforcers had gathered. Four men stood over a pile of rubble, torches casting flickering shadows over the debris. Someone was buried beneath it.

Aedric's heart clenched. Dorn.

The enforcers muttered to each other, their voices laced with cruel amusement. One of them kicked at the rubble, eliciting a muffled groan from below.

"He's still alive," one of them chuckled. "Tough bastard."

Another enforcer crouched down, gripping the edge of a wooden beam. "Should we pull him out?"

The first one shrugged. "Why bother? He'll bleed out by morning."

Aedric didn't wait.

He moved like a shadow, silent, swift. Before the enforcers could react, his blade was already in motion. The first fell with a gurgled cry, blood spilling onto the stones.

Lirian was right behind him, cutting down the second before he could even reach for his weapon.

Varen handled the third with brutal efficiency, a dagger slicing across the man's throat in a quick, practiced motion.

The fourth tried to run. He made it three steps before Lirian's knife buried itself in his back.

The street fell silent once more.

Aedric wasted no time. He dropped to his knees, pushing debris aside, hands searching for signs of life.

"Dorn," he called, voice low but urgent.

A cough answered him. Then a weak, breathless chuckle. "Took you long enough."

Aedric and Varen worked quickly, pulling the rubble away until Dorn's bruised, dust-covered face emerged. His lip was split, one of his arms bent at an awkward angle, and blood stained the fabric of his torn tunic. But he was alive.

"Can you move?" Aedric asked.

Dorn winced as he shifted. "Not well."

"We don't have a choice," Lirian said. "Gorran's men will notice their friends are missing soon."

Varen knelt beside Dorn, looping an arm under his good shoulder. "Come on, up you go."

Dorn groaned but didn't argue. He was strong, always had been, but even he had limits. And tonight had pushed him past them.

"Let's get out of here," Aedric said.

The four of them moved as quickly as Dorn's injuries would allow. Every shadow felt like a pair of watching eyes. Every distant sound made Aedric's muscles tense. They had to get back to the hideout. They had to regroup.

Because if tonight had shown them anything, it was that this war had truly begun.

---

By the time they reached the hideout, Dorn was barely conscious. He had lost more blood than he let on.

Tessa was waiting inside, a makeshift bandage around her arm—a fresh wound, but not life-threatening. Her eyes widened when she saw Dorn's state.

"Damn it," she muttered, rushing to help lower him onto a cot.

"He'll live," Lirian said, though her tone held little relief.

Tessa knelt beside Dorn, inspecting his wounds. "He's lucky. I saw what they were doing out there."

Aedric sat on the edge of the table, rubbing a hand over his face. "We saved a few. But not enough."

Varen leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "We can't fight like this forever. Gorran's men aren't just enforcing—they're exterminating."

Lirian exhaled. "And they're not done. He's making sure no one dares stand against him again."

Aedric looked at each of them, seeing the exhaustion, the anger, the weight of the night pressing down on them. This wasn't just another skirmish.

Tonight had been a message.

But messages could be sent both ways.

"We hit back," Aedric said.

Tessa looked up. "We just barely got out of there. You really think we're ready for that?"

Aedric met her gaze. "If we don't, Gorran wins. He'll burn half the city to make sure of it."

A silence fell over the room. They all knew the truth of his words.

Lirian broke the quiet first. "So what's the plan?"

Aedric looked toward the window, where the glow of distant fires still burned against the night. The city was bleeding.

And he wasn't going to let it die.

"We start by making Gorran bleed."