The Blades in the Halls

The first blade came for her throat.

Elara ducked, rolled, and slashed upward in a fluid motion she didn't remember learning—but her body did. The glyph burned hot, reacting to danger like a second heartbeat.

The assassin—a former Shadow Court wraith—stumbled back, hissing as silverlight cut through his cloak.

Moriah was already engaged with two others in the corridor outside Elara's chambers. Screams and spellfire filled the air.

Nathan was still recovering, so Elara fought alone.

She pushed off the wall, driving her blade into the assassin's gut, then turned to face another. This one wore no mask.

"You're heresy," the woman spat. "You carry power meant for gods."

Elara's expression hardened. "Then bow."

She drove her heel into the woman's chest, sending her crashing through a rune-shielded window.

Silence returned—briefly.

Then came the fourth assassin.

But Aldric was there.

He arrived like thunder, his magic exploding in the hall, shadows impaling the attacker through every limb. Elara watched, breathless.

"You knew," she said.

"I was told," he replied.

"Daevos?"

He nodded once.

Moriah limped over. "That wasn't the whole faction."

"No," Elara agreed. "It was just a warning."

She turned toward the Court's inner halls.

"It's time we answer it."