I lifted it carefully, turning it in my hands. The metal was ancient yet untouched by time, its craftsmanship intricate and menacing.
“It looks so powerful…” I murmured, running my fingers over the finely etched sun on the handle. “Exquisite.”
“Let’s examine it later,” Roman said, his tone sharp with urgency. “We need to leave.”
A sudden, grating sound tore through the chamber.
My head snapped up.
The walls were shifting. Panels pivoting.
A yelp escaped my lips as I scrambled around the table, instinct screaming at me to flee.
Three figures emerged from the darkness between the moving panels, clad in black from head to toe, their faces obscured by shadowy masks.
One of them spoke, his voice a knife in the silence.
“The blade is not yours. It does not belong to you.”
“Nor does it belong to you,” I shot back. “You stole it.”
I hurled the Sun Dagger at Roman. “Here!”
He caught it seamlessly, shoving the dagger into his leather boot swiftly.
The cloaked figures advanced—silent, menacing—closing in.
We were surrounded.
Roman and I scrambled onto the table, snatching up daggers so quicklythat the blades clanged together in our hands. I dropped into a fighting stance, a snarl curling my lips as one of the attackers lunged at me.
Without breaking eye contact, I drove my heel down onto his outstretched hand. A sickening crunch echoed through the chamber as bones crunched beneath my foot.
He howled in agony but recovered fast, scrambling onto the table with a sweep of his boots, sending daggers skidding across the surface. Before I could react, he grabbed my arms and wrenched them behind my back.
I swung my head back, aiming for his nose—missed.
Roman moved in with a growl of contempt, tilting the candle holder until molten wax spilled like red-hot tears down the attacker’s face. The wax coated his eyes, searing into his skin and hardening into a grotesque ivory mask.
The man shrieked, thrashing, batting the candle from Roman’s hand. It struck the wall, tumbled to the floor, and snuffed out.
Darkness swallowed us whole.
A knife hissed through the air.
Roman grunted. A thud followed.
“What happened?” I whispered, pulse hammering.
The man let out a strangled gasp, then collapsed.
“I slit his throat,” Roman said.
A ragged breath from the dying man. “Raul is going to find you… He’ll torture you… then kill you with the poison…” His words faded into silence.
My heart pounded against my ribs. The dark was disorienting, swallowing sound and space alike.
“Where are you?” I murmured.
