Anvindr stood behind the boy with the crossbow, arms crossed, a confident grin on his face.

  “Rise and shine, Tiago, meet my friend Ettrian Virzana, 3rd son of the noble Baserman Virzana.”

  Ettrian remains silent, and he stares sharply at Tiago, seeming to make up his mind, he turned to Anvindr quickly,

  “With a mana signature this unique, finding her wouldn’t be a struggle, however-”

  “Well, that is fantastic news, isn’t it?” Anvindr hollers,

  “You didn’t let me finish, it will take far too long to differentiate the two.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Ettrian sighs deeply, turning back to Tiago. His voice is slightly annoyed at his colleagues' lack of understanding. From the angle he stands, the height difference between Ettrian and Anvindr is clear; Anvindr dwarfs Ettrian.

  “You’re a twin, aren’t you?”

  Tiago returned a puzzled expression.

  “Yes…” he answered sheepishly,

  “You’ll learn this in the academy one day I’m sure, but the way tracking magic works is picking up the small identifying factors between a person's mana signature and latching onto it like a hook,” Ettrian draws a small line in the shape of a fishing hook in the air, “from there I just follow the line.”

  Anvindr makes a disgruntled noise. Tiago frowns at the knight, and he responds to Ettrian, slightly puzzled.

  “So, if her signature is like mine, can’t you just hook on to it?”

  Ettrian sighs again, shaking his head.

  “It's not like yours, it's identical, the magical line can’t differentiate between you and your sister.”

  Tiago's head drooped,

  “Keep your head up, kid. What I can do is locate your father, from there he can definitely help us. I haven’t a clue why Anvindr wanted us to take your kidnappers on our own anyway.”

  Anvindr huffed,

  “You think I can’t handle a couple of miscreants from the shallows?”

  “That pride will be the death of you.” Ettrian retorted, glaring back at Anvindr,

  “What is a knight without his pride?”

  Etrian's eyes roll.

  “We don’t have time for this," Tiago complained. “Track my father down quickly. The ones who took my sister have probably already left town.”

  Tiago pulled himself from the chair, his muscles flexing, and felt rejuvenated; the fatigue built up from the last few months of training had dulled. What an addictive feeling, similar to the lull from morphine, but his mind was clear. He makes a mental note that addiction is possible if he isn’t careful.

  “Why are you in such a hurry to die, kid?”

  “It’s not like that,” Tiago responded sharply.

  “I see what Anvindr likes about you,” Ettrian chuckles, brushing past Anvindr as he pulls the door open to exit the infirmary. Anvindr follows behind him, gesturing for Tiago to follow.

  Tiago jogs two steps behind the teen knight as they walk through the hallways, which are now mostly empty except for a few more studious knights, who diligently skim through books. The evening light shines as they head towards the front gate, where a tall, lean man in a black coat stands, a menacing aura surrounding him. Tiago instantly recognizes him as an experienced fighter.

  “Where are you boys heading, and who’s the kid?” His voice was rough and serious.

  “We are helping the kid home. It's located by the shallows. He got roughed up, and we are helping him out.” Anvindr drops his arm around Tiago's shoulder. The heavyweight pushes him down slightly. Tiago steadies himself and fakes a smile.

  “Well, you better be back by curfew,” the man says, staring at Tiago as if taking in every meticulous detail of the boy. “You know what happens otherwise.” Anvindr nods profusely, using his arm around Tiago's shoulder to pull him through the front gate. He pushes the gate open with his other arm; Ettrian follows closely behind.

  Tiago cups his mouth, whispering to Anvindr as they leave the school.

  “Who is he?”

  “The chief instructor, a real stickler for rules.”

  Anvindr pulls his arm off Tiago as they head further into the city, in the complete opposite direction of the shallows and the school. Ettrian walks ahead of the two, reaching into his pockets a small orb-shaped device in his palm, turning his palm upwards, he closes his eyes.

  “Signature locate,” he moves his other hand over the top of the sphere in a circular motion.

  “Target, thread link”, he turns to Tiago, the hand he had used for the palm motion now facing outwards, facing Tiago. The sphere glows in a line across its centre, rotating in opposite directions on each side of the line before a golden light in the form of a thread begins to flow outwards down the pathway ahead and deeper into the city.

  “Whoever your father was meeting dragged him to the other side of the city.” Ettrian states, opening his eyes again.

  “I am sure that was intentional…” Tiago's words are bitter. In his mind, he was also partially blaming his father for negligence. Maybe situations like this aren’t as common in this world, but there was a severe oversight. The other way to think about it is that his father meant this as a test of capability; if that’s the case, he failed spectacularly. He bites his lip angrily.

  “Calm down,” Anvindr pats his back gently, “You’ve got some of the highest-rated knights in the academy helping you.”

  Tiago settles himself. It was unlike him to be emotional about failing missions. He had failed missions before, sometimes costing many lives, but they were never family. It was never personal. His eyebrows furrowed. This was personal.

  They travelled for half an hour, then an hour. Tiago noticed the environment getting more lavish the further into the city they went, even noticing a sign for ‘The Million Pavilion', the inn his mother had initially wanted to stay in.

  The golden light grew brighter the closer they became, the thread illuminating the streets as the sun set slowly behind, casting shadows as street lamps began igniting around them. ‘I pray it isn’t too late’, Tiago thought. In most hostage situations like this, they would have had ample time to relocate. He remembers the knight at the city entrance with the emblem of the sun at its centre. He did seem capable; if the others are as perceptive as he is, there could be a chance they can’t smuggle people out so easily.

  The torch's light made a slight humming noise as the trio rounded a final corner. The street led to a large two-story manor at the end of the street, with red sigils of a blood drop, fangs over the top and bottom hanging from the windows, and curtains drawn from the front side.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  The golden thread fades suddenly, and Ettrian tilts his head peculiarly.

  “Strange, someone detected the mana attachment and severed the connection.”

  “Why would they wait until we arrive to do that?” Tiago asks,

  “I’d like to say it was because my magic was undetectable until now, but I doubt it.”

  Anvindr draws his long sword, gesturing for the two to get behind him as they continue to walk down the street. Tiago follows suit, and Ettrian grasps his crossbow, putting two fingers at its point. He whispers, “Mana Create: Arrow.” A blue arrow forms in the weapon's rail, and he keenly checks his surroundings.

  Silence filled the street. None of the neighboring buildings to the manor have lights or any signs of life. Tiago had seen these kinds of traps in Afghanistan in special ops. In this situation, a few variables could be true.

  Like Ettrian, rangers could be waiting for our safety distance to be too considerable to avoid damage or entrapment. He glances over the rooftops, but there are no signs of life. They have just reached the halfway point and should have long been attacked. Additionally, his father is in the building; if he can get his attention somehow, that’s all he needs.

  Suddenly, the silence is broken by footsteps, at least four pairs coming from behind. The lamp's light illuminates their shadows.

  “He was heavily injured. How could he have made it this far?” A man's voice, in his early twenties at least.

  “The boss said he got help from some brats at the academy.” Tiago's blood starts to boil hearing the familiar tone from the second voice,

  Anvindr steps back to face the assailants, Ettrian dashes behind him, and readies his weapon. Tiago’s breathing becomes erratic; he doesn’t move a muscle.

  “Behind me!” calls Anvindr to Tiago,

  The men round the corner, three he didn’t recognize, but one man stood with an eyepatch, his clothes more torn than he had seen earlier, but all his wounds had already healed.

  “Dargor…” Tiago seethed,

  “Tiago, if this is one of the kidnappers, you do not stand a chance.”

  Tiago's palms open as two white blades of mana slowly form. Dargor, noticing him, a slight smirk appears on his face, and he slowly raises his hands above his head.

  “Look, kid, you’ve caused enough trouble for me today.” He gestures to his torn armor and garments, “I am long done underestimating you brats, so I have come with a deal.”

  “He will do no such thing,” Anvidr interjects, stepping into stance, his right leg forward, and sword held from waist height, facing his immediate foes.

  “Stay out of this brat, we’ll get to you next, alright.”

  The other assailants draw their blades hidden beneath large hoods that partially cover their faces, faceless pawns.

  Dargor lowers his hands and gestures to Tiago, “Listen up, kid. Your sister is still in the city. Our contract only needs one of you, but the other is too much trouble, so I came to offer a replacement deal.”

  Tiago inspected his situation closely. His eyes darted quickly to Ettrian and Anvindr behind him. Anvindr's vision was locked onto Dargor and the three other men. His eyes were serious, but Tiago could sense a wariness. Ettrian, noticing Tiago's hesitation, signaled him quickly to run for the building.

  Tiago clears his mind, and all he needs is his father to fix this situation. However, he mentioned his sister being troublesome, does that mean she escaped?

  Tiago shifts his feet slightly. The mana daggers in his hands disappear as his concentration changes. He intends to make a dash for the entrance of the Manor.

  Dargor sees right through him. Without hesitating, he stamps hard on his right leg. A tremor can be felt, and then a small rock rips from the ground below Tiago's feet, but it’s too slow.

  Tiago pivots quickly, dashing backwards. In reaction, Dargor lunges forward, the hooded men following in pursuit. The gangster repeatedly stamps the ground while sprinting towards Tiago. The young boy grits his teeth as jagged slabs of rock jut out at every place he steps as he rushes for the manor. They'll pierce right into him if he hesitates for even a moment. Dargor clearly had no intention of delivering him unharmed.

  He feels a shift under his foot,

  “Gotcha!” Dargor shouts.

  ‘Impossible’, Tiago thought. Was he testing for his running speed this whole time?

  He feels a yank on the collar of his undershirt as the rock that should have pierced right through his leg misses by a narrow margin. Tiago spine tingles at the sensation of being ragdolled. As Anvindr tightens his grip on his modified chest piece, he missiles Tiago towards the house with a massive heave.

  He twists his body midair, launching himself off his hands onto the ground. He uses the momentum to continue his dash towards the Manor. Tiago glances behind himself, witnessing Anvindr stand his ground before the men, two of whom leap ahead of Dargor, swords arcing diagonally onto the knight. However, despite being older, they were hardly bigger than Anvindr, who uses his foes momentum to shift parallel to the slashing attack coming from his left, using the length of his sword to parry the blade of the other.

  The movement leaves an opening for Ettrian, who leaps adjacent to the men, firing his crossbow. The man can barely react, moving very slightly, the arrow pierces straight through his shoulder, narrowly avoiding being pierced straight through his chest.

  Ettrian rolls to his side, grabbing a steel dagger from an ankle sheath during his movement.

  The hooded man on Anvindr's left follows through his initial attack with a horizontal slash. In response, Anvindr steps into the attack, minimizing the effective attack window, and quickly returns with a strong parry that completely breaks open the man's guard.

  Anvindr brings his blade high, preparing to finish him off, but the third hooded man ducks from behind his unguarded ally, thrusting the point of his blade into Anvindr's chest, managing to find itself sliding into one of the small chinks in the chest piece that is unprotected, piercing his ribs.

  Tiago's eyes widen, but his attention is forced to shift to Dargor, who rushes past Tiago's two defenders, barreling straight for him.

  The distance made was enough. He made it to the entrance of the manor. Striding up several stairs, he finds two bright red doors with jet black handles. He pulled with all his might, but it barely budged. He peered through the small gap between the doors, searching for a lock mechanism.

  He notices a glimmer in the air. Was this the presence of magic?

  Tiago summons as large a blade as he can muster, but focuses on making it as thin as possible. A long white rapier appears in his hands. He raises it above his head, slicing straight through the narrow gap. The blade shatters to its hilt, then disappears suddenly.

  Turning again, Dargor is no more than a few steps behind him. The man slams his leg down once more. Tiago can feel the tremor move beneath his feet, and he springs into the air.

  Dargor laughs, drawing his blade from its sheath.

  In that instance, Tiago summons another blade of mana, thicker this time, resembling Anvindr’s long sword in both hands. Mid-air, he twirls, mana accumulates inside his mana blade, as he attempts to recreate Ein Sof's first martial art, which he had trained so many times before.

  ‘Gyrating Spirit Blade’.

  Dargor slashes upwards with his sword, but the blade shatters, as Tiago slashes down in a 180-degree arc vertically from the middle of the door to meet Dargor’s blade midspin. The idea behind the martial art connects mana to one's momentum mid spin, the circuit of magic linked finished by the weapons slash, the intention, a slash with precise power and energy.

  The door bursts from its bottom, cracks tear in the ground to where Dargors raised the hilt of his sword, the blade now shattered into pieces.

  Tiago lands two feet crouched inwards, catching himself from falling over. The mana blade reduced to shards from the attack. He turns, bolting inside. Tiago is immediately greeted by red hallways adorned with portraits and paintings of red-haired people he has never seen before. Oil lamps softly illuminate the hallway, and notably, a large staircase at its back with a vibrant red carpet laid upon it.

  Tiago opened his mouth, breathing deeply, preparing to scream, “Father help!”,

  His voice echoes through the hallway. Loud creaking in the floorboards can be heard, as a shadow illuminates itself at the top of the stairs, but Dargor grabs hold of him from behind before he can react.

  “You’ve done it now, kid.”

  Tiago resists as much as possible, but Dargor slams his head into the ground with inhuman strength. Blood drips from Tiago's nose.

  Dargor quickly turns, sprinting out the door, a disoriented Tiago in tow.

  Through blurred eyes, he sees Anvindr, blood dripping out of his mouth, his sword drawn to what appeared to be the final hooded man, who was clutching his side, his sword in the other hand.

  Ettrian lay unconscious on the ground, a pool of blood forming below him, but the other two hooded men lay next to him, lacerations all across their bodies.

  “Don’t you worry, Tiago, once I’ve delivered you, we’ll get our payback on those kids.”

  Dargor snickers to himself,

  Anvindr notices him out of the corner of his eye,

  “Put him dow-” His voice sputters as blood spits from his mouth.

  He falls to one knee, the last hooded man takes the opportunity to strike, dashing forward, Tiago closes his eyes, not wanting to see the teens' untimely death.

  A blood-curdling scream is heard, but it is not a sound that Anvindr would make. Tiago opens his eyes again.

  A white blade of mana several times the width of Anvindr's blade pierces the hooded man's chest, then turns and tears the man in two with a gurgling nose. The body drops, and a muscular, tall, angry man stands behind it.

  Dargor stops in his tracks, cursing under his breath.

  Tiago can feel mana reverberating in the air, his vision focusing.

  “Put my son down,” the man huffed, his rage can be felt in his sheer presence, but it's controlled.

  “Do it…Now”