Prologue
The Vulture
“Do you understand now?” the peculiar man asked. “Do you see what it will take to work by my side?”
The man slid a dagger across the desk, offering it to The Vulture. The dagger was clear, made of iridescent crystal. It was engraved with markings The Vulture didn’t recognize, indicating it belonged to a language lost in time.
The Vulture gripped it in their hand, inspecting the blade that radiated overwhelming power, even now. Even when its power had faded and transferred to the barrier of Tevye.
“I will do what we bargained for,” the Vulture replied, narrowing their eyes at the man. “Make sure he is there at midnight.”
The man nodded, cruelty in his eyes. “Done.”
The Vulture stood and stuffed the crystal blade in their bag with a determined look in their eyes. Their suspicions were confirmed. Whether they liked it or not, they knew what they had to do.
Who they had to kill first.
Chapter 1
Sun and Moon will always find each other in every life. Their souls are tied, where one goes, so does the other.
—The book of Tevye
Taryn
“Please,” the Elven male begged. “I won’t tell a soul!”
His frail body writhed under Taryn’s grip, a weak attempt to fight off his attack. Taryn’s hand tightened around the male's neck, then loosened as he took a step back. He unsheathed a knife from his belt.
“No,” Taryn agreed. “You won’t.”
Before the male could respond, Taryn slid the dagger across his throat. Blood gushed out of the wound, leaving a pained gurgle in place of the words the male attempted to say. An empty silence followed in its wake.
Gods. This had to be Taryn’s tenth kill of the week. His Guildmaster had sent him on a damned rampage. Of course, Eryx didn’t divulge why he needed these people killed. His Guildmaster always gave vague answers, muttering that these people owed him a debt after stealing his drugs. Taryn didn’t believe it. There was something else going on. Something… sinister.
What am I even doing with my life?The point had become unclear over the years. Taryn’s body went numb as he willed the thought to pass. He snatched the bundle of salaroses on the counter and stuffed them into his cloak pocket. They were peculiar plants, onyx roses that had more use than vanity. They could get you high. They could be used in spells. They could be extracted for their poison. It was why Eryx needed them.
Taryn turned to leave. He stopped mid-step, looking back at the lifeless body, stifling any emotions that threatened to surface. No need for suchuselessfeelings. He walked up to the body and closed the eyelids, sending the male to rest. It was the least he could do. It wasallhe could do.
Gravel crunched under Taryn’s boots as he exited the flat onto the cobblestone street of Luciena. He veered right, pulling his cloak hood over his head. The dirty, brisk air bit his face, while a rat scurried from Taryn’s footsteps, hiding away in the hole of a broken-down building nearby. Random shouting echoed into the alleyways of the slum, the usual civilian semantics bringing this area to life. The smell of urine and beer wafted up to his nose, blending into a familiar scent that belonged to none other than the city’s poverty-stricken outer ring.
Taryn took in the slanted buildings surrounding him and frowned. Despite all the money the Luciens had in their coffers, they still refused to help repair this side of the city. Civilians took it upon themselves to make their own repairs, using shoddy handiwork to repair holes in the buildings with patched metal or scraps of wood. It had been this way for as long as Taryn had lived on this continent.
Looking overhead, he deduced it was around midnight due to the moon’s position. Had he really been out that long?
He fastened his black handkerchief over the bridge of his nose and began his trek back to Lonskeep. Apart from his glowing silver eyes, Taryn blended into the darkness thanks to his black leather ensemble.
“Spare me,” a voice croaked from below. Taryn glanced at a Human man sitting against the stone wall, a tin cup in his hand. Wrinkles lined his face, an unkempt gray beard reaching down to the ground. Taryn hesitated, looking around to make sure there weren’t any city guards who would recognize him. He crouched before the old man, pulled out some change, and dropped them in the cup.
The man looked at him, the tin cup wobbling in his trembling hand. The scent of anguish and fear from the Human wafted up to Taryn’s nose. He rested a hand on the man’s arm and murmured a blessing in the Runean language. Taryn moved on. He couldn’t stay in the city for long without risking capture.
Taryn thought of the homeless man as he walked toward the outer wall. He had seen himself in the man, recognizing that sunken look of hopelessness all too well. He bit back a feeling of shame as old memories resurfaced. Images of his childhood flashed in his mind – hisgrandmother’s sunken cheeks in her last days, the sun blaring down on him as he begged on the streets after her passing.
Taryn grimaced, shutting the memories out. He wasn’t that person anymore. That life no longer belonged to him.
His ears pricked beneath his hood at the sound of footsteps trailing him on the rooftops above. Taryn fought the instinct to grab the hilt of his broadswords. He wanted whoever followed him to think he would be taken by surprise when they revealed themselves. He turned down another alleyway, careful to distance himself from the main street.
Amateurs.
