"What the hell do you mean, they AREN'T DEAD!" A man with long fiery red hair and a scruffy beard yelled. He tapped his long fingernails on the wooden table in front of him. It appeared to be a repetitive action as there was a small dent in the table where he had slowly worn out the wood."They escaped. The monsters were too large, it made them slow. They couldn't kill two of those bloody so-called warriors." This man's voice was smooth and deep, rolling off his tongue. He oozed confidence and strength, hidden under a black cloak that covered his features. He was calm compared to the other's rage."So why weren't they in the Kingdom? Why weren't they burned with it?" The man with the scruffy beard yelled, his voice raspy and scratched."A number of the citizens managed to escape. The princess has grown powerful, she is able to use a large amount of her power so quickly.""It won't last forever, raw magic isn't as all-powerful as she thinks. Her powe
Rhae had surveyed the camp a few times on the back of Diavel. He seemed agitated but wouldn't talk to her about what he had seen behind Aynyra's tent. Since then, neither of them had spotted anything unusual. Even Ambrose's Fae senses hadn't picked anything up.Rhae decided that it was enough and flew back down into the camp to sit outside of Aynyra's tent, keeping watch until she woke up."Did Diavel say anything else about what he saw?" Ambrose asked, climbing off his Draekon to sit beside her. Rhae ran her fingers through her dirty and matted hair, trying to pull it away from her face. "No, he has refused to talk to me since," Rhae whispered staring at Diavel, whose head was snapping around at the smallest sounds, searching the treeline for movement. "He needs to rest, but I don't think he will now that there might be a threat.""You need rest too, and a bath," Ambrose chuckled, covering his nose. "So do you!" Rhae laughed, lightly shoving Ambrose. Ambrose stood and held out his
Rhae stormed through the camp, straight for Aynyra's tent. Ambrose left her feeling hot and her skin sticky. His presence always made her feel strange like there were butterflies flapping their delicate wings along the lining of her stomach. She thought that she could vomit at the feeling and maybe it would go away.But Aynyra came first, so she shook her head and took a deep breath before stepping into the darkness of the tent.Aynyra was sat up on the bedroll, staring blankly at the entrance to the tent. Her long ears and canines had turned back to human features, and her face was sickly, clouded by dark circles that hung low under her eyes.Even in Rhae's presence in the tent, Aynyra didn't blink. She merely stared, lips slightly agape and grey in colour."Aynyra?" Rhae whispered, kneeling down in front of Aynyra. She gently reached out and grasped Aynyra's cold, dead fingers. Rhae grimaced at the cold that seeped from her usually warm skin.Rhae bent to the side and picked up the
Smouldering tobacco lay waste to the once pristine air, swirling through the darkened room. Echoes of heels clapping the wooden surface hammered into the ears of every member of the Henla Guild. Glasses clinked, and the pungent scent of alcohol filled Rhaenyx Maltalor’s nose. She pushed her way through the crowds to the bar, picked up a metal mug, leaned against the cobble bench, and pushed a piece of paper towards Kaia, the bartender. On it was the name of Malakai Hamirez. Besides his name, his fingerprint, with blood for ink. Kaia took the paper and stashed it under the counter. “Still sitting at the top, I don’t know why you take continuous jobs, it’s not like anyone could beat you anyway.” She grinned pulling out a bottle of liquor, filling up Rhaenyx’s mug once again with that sickly toxin. “And I don’t know why I continue to drink this poison.” “You drink it because I make it Rhae,” Kaia retorted. “Got any more work for me?” Rhae swallowed the c
Rhae darted through alleyways, making her way upstairs between two houses. Soon she reached the open air, a small hill with one Akiara tree. The tree held golden Akihyra, translating to ‘Sun fruit’, forever in abundance no matter how many were taken. An Anera bush, ‘Sin flower’, grew from the base of the tree circling around it. Rhaenyx inspected the tree, recalling their names and translations from her lessons. When training to be an assassin, you are taught the ancient language so that you can pass messages onto other members of the guild without comprehension from any interception. She walked over to the tree, stretched up, and plucked one ripe Akihyra from the tree. She bit into the fruit, a calm feeling washing over her body. The fruit acted like an anaesthetic for the wound, pushing away all pain. Rhae leant down, ripped the wood from her leg and watch the fruit work its magic. It stitched the muscle together, like threads pulling th
Later, Rhaenyx awoke in a dimly lit guild house. The building was barely maintained, and the walls were black. Rot grew on the timbers in every damp corner. A torch sat on the table next to her. She tried to move her arms and legs, only to be thwarted by ropes strapping her to a rusted metal chair. A bucket of golden liquid sat a few feet away, resembling the extract of an Akihyra fruit. “Ah, the princess has awoken. Or well, soon to be queen if she follows her orders.” The man from earlier stepped out of the shadows. He was clean this time as if he freshly bathed. No dirt stuck to his face, and his hair was neatly pulled back into a bun. “The name is Tariar, Icran Tariar, and I’m the leader of this rogue guild, Dynamere. Of course, we named it after our benefactor. Dynamere Raenaleous stepped out from the shadows, grinning. “Nice to meet you Rhaenyx. I’ve always wanted to meet the one I’d eventually beat into the dirt.” She pulled out a small knife
Rhae was hauled to her feet and dragged up rotten wooden stairs to the top floor of the guild house. They came to a metal door, covered in rust. The roof leaked water as if a storm had rolled in. Rhae heard the thunderclap overhead, realising that Icran went out in the storm. A rogue soldier stepped forwards and pulled out a key, unlocking the iron door. Before Rhae could ponder Icran for long, she was dragged into the room, awoken by the door slamming behind her. She slowly stood up, staring at the rope that tied her fists together. She walked around the room, examining every object, looking for a way to cut the rope. A metal bed lay in the far corner, with only a dirty mattress sitting on top. A small pot sat in another corner, likely a chamber pot. Rhae had only one blanket to keep her warm on her bed. The windows were barred, yet there was no glass to prevent the wind and rain from surging into the room. The walls around the windows were growing mould, and a small puddle sat bel
Kaia was locked in a basement, though the room was decorated beautifully, and fit for a noble, she needed to escape. Her head pounded, and sweat beaded on her forehead. She had to save Rhae from making a mistake, a mistake that would change her life. Being an assassin was warranted, but being a plain murderer, she would be hung for that. Kaia slammed her fist on the door screaming at the top of her lungs until her throat scratched and her head ached. She felt the blood rise in her throat as she hoarsely coughed up a few drops. She fell to the floor, heavily sobbing into her arms. All morning she could only hear Rhae’s screams. Kaia let herself get captured, she made a mistake and Rhae had to pay for it. She clutched her arms, clawing at her skin with her fingernails. Recalling the events of the day, she ripped the skin on her arms. Kaia stepped out the back of the guild house to burn a herb, and inhale the smoke. She leaned against the walls of the house staring towards