Chapter 5: The Bait and the Blade

The boy wouldn't stop crying.

Kael leaned against the ship's storage room wall, arms crossed, watching Ryn huddle in his chains. The young spy's wrists were raw from rubbing against the iron, his Sunmark brand barely visible beneath grime and sweat.

Lirya crouched in front of him, her dagger tapping against her knee. "Your Church left you to die back there," she said softly. "Why stay loyal?"

Ryn sniffed, wiping his nose on his shoulder. "You don't understand—"

Kael's boot slammed into the crate beside the boy's head, making him flinch. "Then explain it."

The windcaller's apprentice trembled, his eyes darting between them. "They have my sister. In the Ironhold cells beneath Veldros Cathedral. If I don't report in every three days..." His voice broke.

Lirya exchanged a glance with Kael. The Ironhold was where the Church kept its most dangerous prisoners—and where they'd tortured countless Ruinmarked over the years.

Kael flexed his marked hand. The shadows coiled eagerly. "When were you supposed to check in?"

Ryn swallowed hard. "Yesterday."

Silence.

Then—

A scream tore through the ship.

Kael was moving before the sound faded, bursting onto the deck with his sword drawn. The night air reeked of blood. One of Dain's crew lay near the mast, his throat slit ear to ear.

At the rail stood Serath the Zealous, his golden armor streaked with seawater, his sunsteel blade dripping red.

Dain roared, charging with his cutlass high. Serath moved like lightning—parrying, twisting, and driving his blade straight through the captain's gut.

Kael saw red.

The Ruinmark exploded to life, darkness surging through his veins. He crossed the deck in three strides, his sword clashing against Serath's with enough force to spark.

The sword-saint's cold eyes gleamed. "The Abyss claims you tonight, Aranthor."

Kael didn't waste breath answering. He attacked, letting the mark's power fuel his rage. Their blades became a blur—steel ringing against steel as the crew scrambled away.

But Serath wasn't just fast. He was *precise*. Every strike aimed to kill, every movement calculated. A sunsteel slash grazed Kael's ribs, burning like holy fire.

Kael snarled and *pushed*.

Darkness erupted from his mark, slamming into Serath like a living thing. The templar skidded back, his armor scorched—but unharmed.

"Pathetic," Serath spat. "You don't even know how to use what you stole."

Lirya struck from behind, her daggers aiming for the gaps in Serath's armor. The templar twisted, barely avoiding the killing blow—but not fast enough to prevent her blade from slicing his cheek.

Blood welled.

For the first time, Serath looked surprised.

Then the ship lurched violently.

A massive wave crashed over the deck, nearly sweeping Kael off his feet. The old windcaller stood at the stern, her hands raised, her tattoos glowing blue. The sea itself answered her call, waves rising unnaturally high.

Serath hesitated—just for a heartbeat—then leapt overboard as a wall of water came crashing down.

The storm died as suddenly as it began.

Dain groaned where he lay, clutching his bleeding stomach. "That... really fucking hurts."

Kael's mark still pulsed with leftover rage. He turned toward the storage hold.

Ryn was gone.

---

**The Wraith's Kiss** limped into a hidden cove at dawn.

Dain lay belowdecks, his wound stitched but still grave. The old windcaller tended him, her blind eyes unreadable.

Lirya stood at the rail, scanning the rocky shore. "Ryn went overboard during the fight. Either he drowned, or..."

"Or Serath has him," Kael finished. His ribs ached where the sunsteel had cut him, the wound resisting his mark's healing.

Lirya's grip tightened on her dagger. "Then the Church knows everything. Our location. Our plans."

Kael looked down at his spreading Ruinmark. Veylan was gone. Their sanctuary destroyed. And now the Church's deadliest hunter was on their trail with fresh intelligence.

He made a decision.

"We don't run," he said. "We hunt *them*."

Lirya raised an eyebrow.

Kael's smile was all teeth. "Ryn said his sister was in Ironhold. If the Church is keeping children there..." He flexed his marked hand. "Then we rip the place apart."

Dain's weak chuckle carried from below. "Oh, this'll be good..."

***

The stench of sewage and rotting fish clung to the docks as Kael and Lirya slipped into Veldros under cover of darkness. The city loomed above them, its towering cathedral spires piercing the night sky like accusing fingers. Somewhere in those stone walls, Ryn's sister waited in chains.

Lirya adjusted the stolen guard's cloak around her shoulders. "Remember—we're not here to burn the place down."

Kael flexed his marked hand beneath his own disguise. The Ruinmark had spread past his elbow now, tendrils of inky black creeping toward his shoulder. It pulsed hungrily at the thought of what lay ahead. "No promises."

They moved through the back alleys, avoiding patrols. The Church had doubled its guards since their escape, templars marching through every major intersection in gleaming pairs.

Lirya stopped at a crumbling tavern near the city's underbelly. The sign above the door read *The Rusty Hook*, though most of the letters had faded. She knocked three times, paused, then twice more.

The door creaked open, revealing a hulking figure with a scarred face and milky blind eye.

Dain grinned weakly, his massive frame leaning on a crutch. "Took you long enough."

Kael blinked. "You're supposed to be recovering."

The smuggler captain stepped aside to let them enter. "And you're supposed to be dead. Yet here we all are."

The tavern's back room was crowded with rough-looking men and women—Dain's remaining crew, plus a dozen others Kael didn't recognize. A detailed map of the cathedral district covered the table, with tiny wooden markers showing guard rotations.

Lirya raised an eyebrow. "You've been busy."

Dain dropped into a chair with a pained grunt. "Turns out half the city's criminals hate the Church more than they fear them." He tapped the map. "Ironhold's here—beneath the cathedral's east wing. Three levels down, behind a sunsteel gate."

Kael studied the layout. "Guards?"

"Twenty templars on rotation. Plus whatever Sunmarked zealots they have lurking below." Dain leaned forward. "But here's the interesting part—they're moving prisoners tonight. Something big's happening."

Lirya frowned. "What kind of prisoners?"

"The kind they don't want people seeing." Dain produced a folded parchment—a guard schedule stolen from a drunken templar. "They've marked six for 'cleansing' at dawn."

Kael's mark flared in response to his spike of anger. "We go now."

---

The cathedral loomed like a great stone beast, its stained-glass windows dark. Kael counted eight guards at the main entrance, their polished armor reflecting torchlight.

Lirya pointed to a side passage—a drainage grate barely large enough for a child. "That's our way in."

Kael pried the rusted bars free with his enhanced strength, wincing as the metal shrieked. They slipped into the foul-smelling tunnel, crawling through muck and filth until it opened into a cellar.

The air here was thick with the scent of mildew and something sharper—fear.

Lirya moved silently to the door, pressing her ear against the wood. "Two guards outside. Arguing about the prisoner transfer."

Kael flexed his fingers. The Ruinmark's whispers grew louder.

She caught his wrist. "Not yet. We need to find the girl first."

They slipped into the corridor when the guards moved away, following Dain's directions deeper into the bowels of the cathedral. The lower they went, the colder it became, until their breath fogged in the air.

Then they heard the screams.

Kael's blood turned to ice. That wasn't an adult's cry—it was a child's.

They ran.

The Ironhold's gates stood open, revealing a nightmare. Templars dragged shackled figures from their cells—most barely more than skeletons. And there, in the center of the chamber, knelt a girl no older than twelve, her arms branded with fresh burns.

Ryn's sister.

A templar raised a glowing brand toward her face—

Kael stopped thinking.

The Ruinmark erupted.

Darkness exploded through the chamber, snuffing out torches and lanterns. Kael moved faster than humanly possible, his fist crushing the templar's throat before the man could scream.

Chaos erupted.

Lirya's daggers flashed in the gloom, cutting down guards before they could draw weapons. Kael became a shadow of death, his enhanced strength shattering armor and bone alike. The templars never stood a chance.

When the last body fell, Kael turned to the cowering girl. "We're here to take you to your brother."

Her eyes widened. "Ryn's alive?"

Lirya cut her bonds with a quick slash. "For now. We need to—"

A horn blast echoed through the tunnels.

Dain's voice crackled through the communication crystal in Lirya's pocket: "They know you're there! The whole garrison's coming!"

Kael grabbed the girl's hand. "Run."