Trapped And Unmasked

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The staircase was narrow, winding, and old—its stones slick with damp and worn by generations of booted feet. Mira and Valron ascended in silence, their stolen uniforms fitting just well enough to fool a passing glance. But they kept their heads down, walking with the stiff posture of trained palace guards.

Every corner held risk. Every glance from another soldier could be suspicion. Mira tightened her jaw with each step, her hand never far from the hilt of her concealed dagger. Valron walked beside her, steady, casual, masking his tension behind a practiced grunt and slow pace.

As they emerged into the lower levels of the palace proper, the air changed—richer, perfumed with oils and burning incense. The corridors were marble-tiled and lined with golden sconces. Footsteps echoed faintly in the grand space.

"Keep your eyes down," Valron muttered under his breath. "We're just another patrol."

"Don't have to like it," Mira whispered back.

They passed several groups of guards, nodding curtly, moving with purpose. Each encounter made Mira's stomach knot tighter. It was too smooth. Too quiet.

Then, from an archway ahead, voices drifted.

"…Queen says to hold formation. The intruders are already in the trap. She wants them alive—for now."

"Alive?" another voice snorted. "That won't last long. One of them's the flame wielder. The Prime."

Mira's breath caught. She reached for her blade.

Valron's hand stopped her wrist. "Not yet," he whispered.

Her eyes flashed. "They're talking about Asteria."

"I know. Let's get closer."

They approached the group of guards, who were gathered around a small table, half-armored and relaxed. Valron took the lead.

"Orders just came from the east wing," he said, his voice gruff. "Anything updated here?"

The lead guard frowned. "East wing? I thought it was on lockdown."

Mira stepped forward, feigning irritation. "We were told the intruders were near the tower. You stationed here for backup or what?"

The guards looked at one another.

One of the guards turned. "You two new?"

Mira shrugged. "Posted here last moon."

Another guard narrowed his eyes. "What outpost did you say you were from again?"

Valron didn't hesitate. "East gate barracks."

"Funny," the man replied. "East gate doesn't recruit from the outer ranks."

They'd blown it.

The guard's hand went to his sword.

Valron spun first, slamming his fist into the closest guard's face. Mira ducked low, sweeping the legs from another before driving her elbow into his ribs.

Steel clanged against marble as chaos broke out.

Mira slashed a blade across one attacker's thigh, sending him crashing into a pillar. Valron grappled with two at once, parrying blows with the shaft of his spear, teeth gritted.

"They know now!" Mira shouted.

Valron shoved a guard aside. "Then we stop asking questions."

They fought their way backward toward a branching corridor, blades flashing, blood spattering across the pristine floor.

Somewhere above them, the trap was already sprung.

And they were running out of time.

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In the tower chamber, Cain and Asteria stood back-to-back, eyes on the ring of advancing guards.

Cain nodded once. "On my mark."

Asteria didn't speak—he didn't need to. Fire shimmered across his gloves. Wind spun faintly at his feet.

"Now."

Cain ducked and drove his stone blade through one attacker's leg, sweeping another off his feet with a shifting pulse of earth. Asteria spun with wind at his heels, launching a wave of heat that bent around two incoming spears and melted the tips mid-air.

They moved like they'd trained for this moment all their lives.

Fire licked across the floor. Air cracked in blasts of pressure. Cain's control over stone shifted the terrain, causing enemies to stumble as Asteria bombarded them with wind and fire in perfect sync. Though rough and imperfect, Asteria's command over his elements was growing—flashes of brilliance between moments of chaos.

The chamber burned with elemental fury.

They cleared the last guard with a combined strike—Cain pinning him to the wall with a stone spike as Asteria disarmed him with a flaming arc.

They cleared the room.

Then the doors burst open.

Dozens more flooded in—elite guards in full enchanted armor. Their formation was flawless. Their magic stronger.

Asteria raised his fists again.

Cain grabbed his arm. "We can't win this one. Not like this."

They dropped their weapons.

The guards stepped aside.

And then… she entered.

The Queen.

She did not walk—she glided. Her cloak of black and ember flickered like live flame. Her crown shimmered with etched firelight. Wind gathered around her, bending the very air to her desire. It caressed her like a servant, rippling through her silver hair. The torches flared brighter at her presence.

She was regal. Imposing. Terrifying.

Power radiated from her like a storm contained in flesh.

The guards bowed. Even the flames on the wall dimmed before her.

She walked up to Asteria, her eyes cold and curious.

"So… this is the new Prime?" she asked, her voice both silk and steel. "A child with borrowed gifts."

Asteria stood tall. "Where is Seri?"

The Queen tilted her head. "Where she belongs. Where I can keep her safe—from fools like you."

Asteria's voice didn't waver. "Let her go. Or face me."

Cain's eyes widened. "Asteria, don't—"

But the Queen raised her hand, and the floor trembled.

"You dare challenge me?" she laughed. "Test your stolen Prime powers against a true master of the elements?"

"I'm not afraid," Asteria said.

"Then come," she whispered.

Asteria's fists ignited. "Let's end it."

He launched forward, flames bursting from his boots.

The Queen raised one hand.

Wind slammed into him like a giant's palm, flinging him into a pillar. Before he could recover, flame washed over him—not from his own body, but hers. His fire dimmed in her presence, curling away from her superiority.

She walked toward him, unhurried.

Cain intervened, summoning twin slabs of stone to crash against her from either side. She turned with a flick of her wrist. A whirl of fire exploded outward, shattering the stone and sending Cain skidding across the marble.

They attacked again.

Cain tried to lock her movement with a rising wall of earth. She melted it with a breath of heat.

Asteria conjured wind and fire in tandem—a cyclone of searing heat meant to burn and blind. The Queen raised both hands, and the air around her collapsed in an instant, snuffing out his assault like a candle in a storm.

She moved like the elements bent to her will—as if she didn't control them, but was them. Wind swept around her like loyal hounds. Flame bowed at her feet.

"You challenge me," she said, her voice rising like thunder. "With borrowed power. With trembling hands."

Asteria rose slowly, blood in his mouth. "You're afraid of what I'll become."

The Queen's smile faded.

Then she struck.

Wind slammed them both into the walls, then fire curled around their limbs—hot enough to scald, but not to kill. Cain gasped, barely conscious. Asteria groaned, clutching his ribs.

"You are not a Prime," she hissed, standing above him. "You're a child playing dress-up in divine robes."

And then—

A flash of light from the corridor.

Smoke.

A blast of force hit the Queen's flank, not strong enough to harm—but enough to distract. Cain opened his eyes and grabbed Asteria's arm.

"Now."

Using the last of his strength, Cain shattered the floor beneath them. The stone caved in, and they fell—through wooden supports, broken beams, and tangled cords—crashing into a forgotten level of the tower below.

They rolled through ash and dust, coughing, broken, bloodied, but alive.

Asteria groaned. "That… could've gone better."

Cain spat blood. "She was… holding back."

They lay there in silence, the Queen's wrath echoing above them like a god's breath.

But they had escaped.

Barely.

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