Behind him, guards shouted curses as they struggled to keep pace. Gael grinned despite himself. He'd always had luck on his side, but today felt different—today it felt like daring fate itself. The roof beneath him was treacherously slick from morning mist, tiles threatening to send him tumbling into the bustling market below. He lunged across a gap between buildings, wind slicing past him, nearly snatching away his breath as his ribs struck the ledge. A desperate hand caught the lip of the roof, fingers white-knuckled, pulling him back up to safety.
He didn't pause to breathe—he couldn't afford to. Boots thundered louder behind him, curses growing clearer, closer. The guards' shadows lengthened, creeping nearer. Gael spun on his heel, standing his ground at the rooftop’s edge, breathing raggedly as his pursuers burst into view.
Their eyes were angry, chests heaving, weapons drawn. Gael smiled bitterly and raised a hand, revealing the small, glittering gem he'd taken from their employer. He tossed it once in the air, catching it deftly as if it were a mere copper coin.
"Seems your master’s quite attached to this trinket," Gael taunted, voice light even as his pulse thundered.
The lead guard stepped cautiously forward, gaze locked on the gem. “You’ve got nowhere to run, boy. Hand it over, and maybe you'll leave here alive.”
“Funny," Gael said softly, voice edged with bitter amusement. "I was just thinking the same thing.”
He stepped backward, off the edge.
Wind surged past him, a thrilling rush that tugged at his hair and cloak. For a heartbeat, time froze, the sky stretching endlessly above. He tossed the gem into the air with practiced ease, sending it soaring high above the guards’ heads.
Lukas huffed as he rounded the corner, Lukas nearly bowled over a startled vendor, sending a spray of colorful vegetables flying. 'Sorry! Friend’s about to die!'" He shouted, not slowing down as he raced ahead. His gaze flicked upward, tracking Gael's desperate sprint and the guards in pursuit. The rooftops of Jesarin were a chaotic maze of slick glass and treacherous footing, casting fractured rainbows that danced on the streets below.
Each step was a roll of the dice, sending shattered tiles spiraling downward in glittering trails. Lukas gritted his teeth as a shard shattered at his feet, scattering colored splinters across the cobblestones.
"You better not die on me this time, you reckless idiot," Lukas shouted, his voice lost among the clamor of Jesarin’s streets. He turned another corner sharply, skidding to a halt as the alley ended abruptly.His pulse hammered against his ribs like a trapped animal as he looked up. High above, Gael stood dangerously close to the rooftop’s edge, guards approaching quickly.
Then Lukas saw Gael shift—recognized the familiar posture. "Not again," he muttered, already moving.
His heart pounded painfully in his chest as Gael stepped off the roof, the air around him seeming to stretch and blur. Lukas sprinted forward, dodging crates and scattered debris littering the alley, his breath tight in his throat. Every muscle tensed as he tried to judge the landing, to anticipate disaster or hope.
A shadow hurtled toward him, and Lukas braced himself. A sudden gust of wind whipped through the alley, rattling nearby shutters. Then another, each slowing Gael’s deadly fall—but still not enough.
At the last instant, a final surge of essence softened Gael's descent, but the impact still knocked the breath from them both as Lukas lunged to break his friend's fall.
"You absolute lunatic," Lukas gasped, gripping Gael's arm tightly. "What if that hadn’t worked?"
Gael chuckled breathlessly, shaking his tingling fingers. "Then you'd be scraping me off the stones, wouldn't you?" Despite the humor, Lukas didn't miss the way Gael's hands trembled.
"You're heavier than you look," Lukas grumbled, pushing Gael upright and catching his breath. Sweat slicked his cropped dark hair, his stocky frame heaving as adrenaline faded into relief. "Let’s not do that again soon, yeah?"
Gael rolled smoothly to his feet, brushing dirt off his coat with practiced ease. "And you're softer than you look. Thanks for the save." He clasped Lukas’s forearm, a knowing grin flickering between them.
"Next time, a heads up would be nice," Lukas shot back, though there was no real heat behind his words. Gael’s reckless confidence was exactly why they survived, even if it was also the reason Lukas was convinced he'd have gray hairs before his Choosing Day.
Before they could fully recover, heavy boots landed nearby, making both boys freeze. A guard had made his way down, face flushed crimson with effort and sword already half-drawn.
"You damned brats," he growled, eyes narrowing sharply. "Ores is going to have our heads for this."
Gael's smile didn't falter as he slipped the gem into his coat pocket. Ignoring the guard entirely, he turned toward the alley behind him. "I'll find us an escape route—you handle him."
Lukas nodded, already stepping forward with fists raised. Sparks crackled faintly around his knuckles, illuminating his determined features, the sharp angles of his face framed by tension and anticipation. "Finally, something I'm actually good at," he muttered, a low incantation murmuring past his lips.
The guard lunged, blade swinging in a vicious arc. Lukas dodged fluidly, essence-infused energy snapping around his legs, each step crackling with electricity. He jabbed swiftly at the guard’s ribs, the shock of lightning making the man stagger and grunt in pain. Another desperate swing came, easily avoided as Lukas moved again, fists flashing rapidly. His second strike caught the guard in the side, followed swiftly by a charged uppercut that sent him sprawling onto the cobblestones, sword clattering uselessly to the side.
"Not bad," Gael said, his tone teasing as he searched the stone wall for a hidden passage. "But I would've done it in two."
Lukas glanced behind him, spotting the second guard rounding the corner, face twisted with rage. "Keep dreaming. Just hurry and get us out of here," he retorted, tightening the wrappings around his knuckles. "We've got more company."
"So we're sticking to the plan, then?" Gael quipped, his fingers finding the subtle outline of a hidden exit.
"Your plans are the literal worst," Lukas grumbled, positioning himself protectively behind Gael. "But they've gotten us this far."
Gael pushed open the concealed door, slipping through with Lukas close behind, fists still raised and sparking. Together they vanished into Jesarin’s twisting alleys, the guards' shouts fading behind them, leaving only Gael’s bright, reckless laughter echoing off the stones, and the gem safe in their grasp.
Nearly an hour later, hearts still racing and breath coming in ragged bursts, Lukas and Gael ducked behind a tattered sheet hanging loosely from the side of a building. Beneath it, hidden from casual view, was a narrow opening just large enough for them to squeeze through. Gael grumbled under his breath about Lukas's annoyingly broad shoulders as they wedged through the cramped passage, carefully descending the hidden stairs until the sounds of Jesarin faded behind them.
They emerged into what their small crew affectionately called their "hideout." In truth, it was little more than a forgotten corner buried in Jesarin’s foundations, strategically placed just beyond the reach of rival gangs. Not much—but safer than anywhere else they'd found.
The hideout opened into two surprisingly spacious chambers, completely isolated from the building above. Despite months of searching, the group had yet to discover an entry point into the structure overhead, leaving the hideout’s true origins a tantalizing mystery.
The first room, smaller and warmer, served as their living quarters. A chaotic yet inviting patchwork of mismatched fabrics sprawled across the floor—cloth mattresses, worn pillows, and blankets stitched from scavenged materials formed a messy mosaic of comfort. Bags and cloaks lay scattered in corners, each item marking the presence of another orphan carving a fragile home from nothing. The room smelled faintly of musty fabric and the familiar warmth of shared lives.
The second room, into which Gael and Lukas now stepped, was stark and purposeful by comparison. Its walls were covered in crudely drawn maps, edges curled from age and constant handling. Pins and charcoal lines tracked rival gangs and potential marks—each careful marking a testimony to their uncertain survival. A long oak desk dominated the center, scarred and stained from years of use. It was cluttered with knives, half-assembled contraptions, and heaps of paper bearing diagrams, scribbled plans, and notes written hastily in charcoal.
Usually, the hideout buzzed with whispered schemes or quiet laughter—but today it was strangely subdued. The moment they brushed aside the threadbare tapestry serving as their door, their ears caught the faint, rhythmic hum of something mechanical, softly filling the silence.
Vess didn't even glance up. She sat hunched over a small, pear-sized device resting atop the workbench in the far corner, her fingers carefully tracing silver runes etched into its surface. Dim lamp light flickered across its metal casing, revealing intricate carvings that pulsed faintly with stored energy.
"Took your sweet time," she muttered dryly, eyes never leaving her work. "Figured you'd finally run out of luck."
Lukas wiped the sweat from his brow. "Almost. He thought falling off a roof was a solid strategy," he said, jabbing a thumb toward Gael.
Vess snorted, not bothering to look up. "And let me guess—you just stood there and watched?"
"I caught him!" Lukas protested.
"Barely," Gael added.
Vess sighed, fingers pausing above the delicate runes as she finally raised her head. Her sharp gaze swept over them—dirty clothes, scuffed boots, and the lingering glow of adrenaline in their eyes. Then, her eyes fell upon the gem glinting softly in Gael’s palm.
The device on the table was instantly forgotten.
"Wait." She slid off the bench, stepping forward slowly. "You—you actually pulled it off?" Her voice lowered to a reverent whisper as she hesitated, fingertips hovering near the gem’s eerie green glow. "Please tell me this isn't what I think it is."
Gael flashed a mischievous grin. "Depends. If you mean the rare artifact currently missing from Madam Ores' collection, then congrats—you're officially sharper than her hired help." He chuckled lightly, tossing the gem in his palm. "They’re not gonna be thrilled when they realize I tossed them a fake."
Vess exhaled sharply, fingers pressing into her temples as though fending off a headache. "You just stole from the most dangerous woman in Jesarin," she murmured, shaking her head in disbelief. "And she doesn't rely on common guards—those men were likely just hired muscle from the seller. If her real knight had been there—"
She cut off abruptly, the air in the room growing tense.
Lukas shifted uneasily, voice dropping low. "Lurras Thorne, you mean."
Vess's expression hardened, her eyes cold. "Yes. Thorne." Her jaw tightened, voice becoming flat, distant. "If he'd caught you, you wouldn't have even had time to scream."
Gael’s grin faltered slightly, a brief shadow crossing his features. The knight’s ruthless reputation was whispered throughout the undercity—an unspoken warning to those like them. For Vess especially, the name carried more weight, more bitterness, than any of them wanted to acknowledge.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Gael exhaled, rolling the gem between his fingers once more. "Well, good thing he wasn't there, huh?"
But the silence that followed told them all how close they'd truly come.
Gael raised an eyebrow, turning the gem slowly between his fingers. "Just how rich is this lady, anyway? I didn't know someone could personally afford a Magi-Knight."
Vess rolled her eyes, her voice edged with impatience. "She's rich enough to make the Warlord look modest. But Lurras doesn't serve her for coin—it's loyalty that binds him."
Gael's confident grin slipped, just slightly, but he quickly masked it with a casual shrug. "Well, lucky us, he wasn't around today. And if he ever shows up, we'll handle him like we handle everything—"
"By punching him, grabbing his stuff, and running for our lives?" Lukas interrupted dryly, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.
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"I was going to say with the style and grace of the Traveler himself," Gael shot back smoothly, his grin returning. "But yeah, sure, your plan works too."
Vess groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose, but there was a flicker of anxiety beneath her usual mask of annoyance. "Both of you are frighteningly effective at getting on my nerves," she said, voice tense. Her dark amber eyes lingered on the gem a moment too long. Vess didn’t scare easily—in three years, Gael had seen genuine fear in her eyes only once—but now there was something wary in her expression. Something brittle.
She stepped closer, her movements slow and deliberate as she studied the artifact. Her oversized black jumper hung loosely around her slender frame, swaying gently with each step. The straight, jet-black strands of her hair brushed softly against her cheeks as she tilted her head, inspecting the glowing surface. Along her left side, faint essence burns shimmered softly, reacting subtly to the gem’s eerie pulse.
The gem felt oddly heavy in Gael's palm, unnaturally dense for its size. Within its glassy depths, veins of emerald light writhed and coiled, alive and restless. When lamplight struck its polished surface, the glow didn't merely reflect—it shifted, like something trapped within, testing the boundaries of its cage. Vess reached out cautiously, her fingertips hovering just above the artifact. The air surrounding it felt charged, tense.
For a brief instant, silence overtook the room, broken only by the quiet hum of the essence censor still lying forgotten on the workbench. Vess exhaled softly, breaking the tension.
"Do you two have any idea what sort of trouble you've invited by stealing this?" she asked quietly, though admiration crept subtly into her voice. "This isn't some ordinary power source—it's dangerous."
Gael leaned casually against the table, his usual bravado easily slipping back into place. He brushed a stray lock of his curly, shoulder-length hair from his deep green eyes, his bushy eyebrows lifting in challenge. ""Danger’s the whole point, isn't it?" Gael shot back, smile edged with something wild and hungry. "Besides, weren't you the one complaining that the censor needed a stronger power source?”
Vess rolled her eyes, a familiar tension settling between her brows. "I didn't mean this," she said, gesturing sharply toward the gem. "I'm not even sure what this thing does, let alone if it can safely power anything." Her fingers hovered just above the artifact again, a hesitation that made Gael’s chest tighten uncomfortably. "Did either of you bother finding out anything about it before you snatched it?"
Lukas offered a shrug, his face as inscrutable as ever. "It's valuable. It has a shit-ton of essence inside. Seemed like enough."
Vess let out a humorless laugh. "Great. It's official then—Lukas is in charge of planning all our future heists. Under his brilliant leadership, we'll never run short on dangerous, mysterious artifacts to nearly die over."
Lukas scowled, but Gael’s laughter broke through the tension, warm and infectious. He clapped Lukas on the shoulder, eyes bright. "A visionary!" he declared grandly. At that, Lukas finally cracked a reluctant smile, his sour expression melting away.
"You know what they say about essence-dense objects, don't you?" Gael continued, wagging his eyebrows dramatically. But the joke fell flat as both Lukas and Vess stared at him, unimpressed.
He sighed dramatically, holding up his hands in defeat. "Fine. You two are hopeless." With a casual toss, he sent the gem spinning toward Vess, who snatched it from the air with a swift, worried motion, holding it tightly as if it might suddenly escape.
Gael met her eyes, his voice softer but still edged with challenge. "Figure out whatever you need to about that thing, Vess. Let's at least make sure the damn rock was worth the trouble it cost us."
Vess nodded slowly, gaze fixed on the strange, pulsing gem in her palm. As silence settled back over the hideout, an uneasy feeling coiled in her chest.
Whatever they’d stolen, whatever secrets it held—she had a sinking feeling they'd just invited a storm they weren't ready for.
Vanessa had always loved a good problem. Something to pick apart, test, break before it broke her first. As a child, she'd spent hours hunched over puzzle boxes her father brought home from distant travels, small fingers tracing grooves and edges until the pieces clicked perfectly into place.
She missed the simplicity of those puzzles.
Now, as the gem pulsed faintly in her palm, she wondered if this one would be as easy to unravel.
The gemstone glimmered softly in the dim, flickering lantern light. Its surface was etched with carvings that shifted subtly beneath her gaze, as though resisting focus, slipping away each time she thought she understood their pattern. Vess turned it carefully in her hand, fingertips brushing over grooves that felt oddly warm—each one a whisper, a fragment of something ancient and powerful. A low hum filled the air around it, resonating gently in her chest, making her heart beat just a fraction quicker.
Gael and Lukas lingered nearby, their usual easy banter replaced by an uncharacteristic, nervous silence. Gael shifted his weight restlessly from one foot to the other, arms crossed tightly, a gesture he always adopted when hiding his worry. Lukas leaned forward slightly, sharp eyes flicking from Vess to the gemstone and back again. They relied on her for moments like these—when raw cunning or physical might wasn't enough, and something subtler was required.
Time fell away as she studied the artifact. Its carvings spiraled inward like roots seeking soil, their delicate, precise lines clearly too intricate for any modern gem-cutter. The gemstone's faint pulse quickened at her careful touch, as if it recognized her scrutiny, responding to the attention. She closed her eyes, letting the slow rhythm of its energy guide her thoughts. This was not just a gem, she realized—it was something living. Something very, very old. But what exactly?
Her gaze drifted to the essence censor she'd been tinkering with, its dull runes still inert and lifeless. An impulse tugged at her, quiet but insistent. She placed the gemstone beside it, holding her breath.
For a heartbeat, nothing changed.
Then, in an instant, the censor's runes flared brilliantly to life, a soft, ethereal glow racing along each carved line like lightning captured in metal. The air rippled faintly, stirred by an invisible breeze that brushed gently across her skin. Vess blinked, her mind suddenly alight with questions.
The gem was supplying essence directly into the censor. But how? That shouldn't have been possible—not without direct manipulation. Yet here it was, impossible and undeniable, humming softly with raw, boundless energy.
She met Gael and Lukas's eyes. Their faces mirrored her surprise, their expressions caught between awe and unease. They all knew one thing without saying it aloud:
Whatever they'd just stolen, it was far more than they had bargained for.
Gael let out a low whistle, breaking the tense silence. "Would you look at that—it is a power source, after all."
Vess shook her head slowly, her voice hushed with wonder. "This much essence, stored in something this small... I've never even heard of anything like it."
Lukas, ever practical, was already moving. He grabbed the nearest rune-etched object—a small handheld lighter Vess often carried, its fire runes making it useless to anyone without her affinity—and thrust it into her hand. "Here. Let's see what else this thing can do."
She hesitated, fingers tightening around the gemstone, the familiar weight of the lighter oddly heavy in her other palm. She glanced toward Gael and Lukas, both watching her with expectant, eager faces. How could she explain a force she barely understood herself? Yet the gem hummed softly, as if urging her forward. Taking a slow breath, she brought it closer to the lighter, bracing herself for—
Nothing.
The lighter sat inert, its runes dark, silent. Only when Vess fed a flicker of her own essence into the device did it sputter awake, clicking gears spinning to life, a steady flame rising at its tip.
Lukas scratched his head lazily. "Well, that was anticlimactic."
"Air runes," Gael interjected proudly, crossing his arms with a self-satisfied smirk. "It supplies air essence, nothing else. That's why it powered the censor but not the lighter."
"Exactly," Vess said, turning the gemstone over in her hand, her eyes thoughtful. "But it didn't just power the censor—it activated all nine runes instantly. That kind of surge would usually drain it in seconds." Her breath caught, heart skipping as she realized the censor still glowed steadily, its runes blazing bright as ever. Minutes had passed, yet its power hadn't dimmed at all.
A shiver ran down her spine. An artifact like this didn't just change the game—it rewrote every rule they'd ever known.
"This thing's a damn miracle," Gael murmured, awe softening his usual cocky tone.
Before they could say another word, hurried footsteps echoed from the hideout's entrance. Lander ducked inside, face flushed and breathing hard, his eyes widening at the glowing gem and the censor radiating essence like a miniature sun. "What the hell's going on in here?" he demanded, his voice caught somewhere between excitement and alarm. "Is that—?"
Gael's grin stretched ear-to-ear. "Yep. We've officially got ourselves a power source."
Vess quickly filled him in, the words tumbling faster than usual, betraying her excitement despite her attempt at composure. Even as she spoke, each member of the crew couldn't help but imagine the implications. Wealth. Influence. Opportunity. Any one of those things would change their lives forever.
"This changes everything," Lander breathed, awe seeping into his voice. "If we can figure out how to harness this properly—"
"Then we're unstoppable," Gael finished for him, eyes alight with ambition.
"I was thinking richer than a warlord," Lukas interjected, leaning casually against the wall with crossed arms. "But please, enlighten us about this 'unstoppable' part."
Gael turned toward Lukas, eyes glinting with mischief. "Powering runes is valuable, sure. With the right buyer, we're set for life—Pelumian villas and all." He leaned in, his voice dropping conspiratorially. "But imagine an air magi with infinite essence at their disposal. That's not just wealth—it's real power." He let the words hang in the air, allowing the gravity to settle over the room before continuing.
"And wouldn't you know it?" he added, a sly smile spreading across his face—the kind that usually meant trouble was close behind. "I happen to know just the guy for the job."
Gael carefully drew aside the tattered sheet, peering into the empty alley. The streets were quiet—too quiet, the usual hum of Jesarin's nightlife replaced by an uneasy stillness. Even the air felt heavier, as though the shadows themselves were holding their breath.
He shook off the creeping paranoia. Staying cautious was one thing, but letting fear freeze him in place would only get them caught faster.
"Coast is clear," he whispered, motioning for the others to follow.
Yet as Gael stepped forward, a faint metallic clink echoed from deeper within the darkness. His body stiffened, fingers tightening around the gem in his pocket. "Did you hear that?"
Lukas glanced around uneasily, brow furrowing. "It's probably nothing. Let's move before someone actually does show up."
"Good advice," came a voice, cool and amused, from everywhere and nowhere at once.
The air shifted—a prickle at the back of Gael’s neck, a warning he’d learned never to ignore. He spun around, already reaching for the essence within him, but it was too late.
A massive figure stepped calmly from the shadows, silver runeplate armor gleaming ominously beneath the pale moonlight. Before Gael could shout a warning, a gauntleted fist caught Lukas square in the chest, slamming him into the alley wall with a crack that echoed painfully through the silence.
Gael thrust a hand forward instinctively, fingers white-knuckled around the gemstone. The air coiled tight, compressed, then exploded outward—a concussive wave of wind hurling dust, shattered stone, and debris at their attacker.
Yet the knight barely flinched. His blade whispered free, slicing effortlessly through Gael’s surge of air. With a flick of his wrist, he redirected the force into the brick wall, shattering stone and kicking up another choking cloud of dust.
Gael didn't even have time to register shock before the rebound slammed into him, hurling him backward. Pain flared hot through his ribs as he crashed to the cobblestones, ears ringing, vision blurred.
"Ah, good. You have the Catalyst," the knight remarked casually, approaching Gael with a relaxed gait, as though this were no more than an evening stroll.
Gael could barely move as the man bent down, armored fingers plucking the glowing gem effortlessly from his coat pocket.
Across the alley, Vess had already scrambled into motion. Her rune-etched lighter flickered with life as she poured every ounce of essence she had into it. The runes flared a violent crimson, air shimmering from the sheer intensity of heat gathering around her.
The knight raised an eyebrow, seemingly impressed as he pressed one metal sabaton down onto Gael’s chest, pinning him painfully against the ground. Gael coughed, fighting for air, struggling uselessly beneath the crushing weight.
Vess’s eyes burned with desperation and fury. She thrust out a trembling hand, fire erupting in a brilliant torrent of flame.
“Falorn Hirath!” she screamed, the words raw with defiance and rage. The flames roared, coiling into a blazing spear aimed directly at the knight.
He didn’t flinch—didn't even move. With infuriating calm, he murmured her incantation backward, voice dripping with quiet power.
“Htarih Nrolaf.”
The flames flickered violently, then dissolved, crumbling into a blackened, empty nothingness. Vess fell forward, knees buckling beneath her. Her body hit the cobblestones hard, essence completely drained, her breaths ragged and broken.
"Essence withdrawal isn't very pleasant, is it Vanessa?" the knight observed softly. He flexed his gauntlet, tendrils of shadow dripping from his fingertips, dissolving slowly into the night air.
Across the alley, Lukas groaned, forcing himself upright. One arm pressed tight against his ribs, his breath rattling painfully, but determination flashed in his pale eyes. He staggered forward anyway, hands lifting slowly into his brawler’s stance, crackles of lightning sparking weakly along his knuckles.
The knight tilted his head thoughtfully, appraising Lukas as though sizing up an opponent worthy of respect. After a moment’s pause, he gave the smallest nod—a silent challenge.
Lukas didn’t hesitate, lunging forward to face it.
And Lukas—bold, stubborn, impossibly reckless Lukas—did exactly what Gael knew he would.
Without a second thought, he charged headlong at the knight, fists crackling faintly with spent essence and a wild grin plastered across his face. In any other moment, Gael might have found it inspiring. Right now, he was too busy struggling just to breathe, each gasp scraping painfully against his ribs.
The knight barely shifted stance, boot still pinning Gael firmly to the cobblestones. Lukas’s swing missed entirely, sending him stumbling forward off-balance. With casual precision, the knight brought his sword’s hilt down in a swift, calculated arc, catching Lukas across the temple with a sickening thunk.
Lukas crumpled mid-step, his momentum carrying him forward until he collapsed into an unconscious heap next to Vess.
"Well," the knight murmured, turning slowly to survey the scene. "You're full of surprises. I'll give you that."
He crouched, runeplate armor creaking softly as he regarded them. Gael lay gasping, the crushing weight on his chest making each breath torture. Vess sprawled beside him, fingers trembling, eyes blazing with frustration she couldn’t voice. And Lukas lay motionless, breathing shallow.
The knight sighed, almost regretful, as though this were merely an inconvenience in his evening stroll. Here's the offer," he said calmly, turning the gem slowly in his fingers like a gambler’s prize. "And I'd consider it carefully." "You three can come willingly. Madam Ores has a keen eye for...unique talent. You’ve shown enough to pique her interest." He shrugged, rising smoothly, hand resting casually on his sword’s pommel. "Or you could try your luck against me again."
Gael coughed, chest spasming, vision swimming as he forced out a ragged whisper. "Not...much of a choice, is it?"
"More than you deserve," the knight replied evenly. "Now get up. If you can walk, follow. If not..." He gestured vaguely to the shadows pressing in around them, leaving the threat unspoken. "Well, I wouldn't recommend staying here."
Vess groaned, forcing herself shakily onto her elbows. Her muscles quivered from essence depletion, but she fixed the knight with a look of pure defiance. "You're not exactly selling this."
The knight’s lips quirked slightly, voice dry. "I'm not here to sell it."
Gael struggled upright, ribs protesting every movement. Before he could even check on Lukas, the knight had already hoisted their unconscious friend effortlessly over one armored shoulder. Lukas’s head lolled loosely, a thin stream of drool dripping onto polished runeplate.
Gael had heard countless rumors of runeplate armor—stories about strength, speed, agility—but seeing it first hand was different. It was both captivating and terrifying, power tempered by unnerving grace. A chill of fascination crept down Gael’s spine, momentarily overpowering his fear.
The knight regarded them silently, his expression unreadable, then turned away, heavy footsteps echoing in the stillness. "Keep up," he called back softly, voice ringing like a command. "Madam Ores doesn’t appreciate delays."
Which of our three protagonists of Act 1 do you like the most so far?