The butler led them through the seemingly endless corridors of the mansion. Each turn, each hallway, was as grand as the last, decorated with unique paintings, golden accents, and tall windows that let in enough sunlight to bathe the place in an ethereal glow. Five minutes passed, but it felt like much longer.
Renn groaned in frustration. "I should've started mapping this place the second we stepped out of that room. I have no clue how to get back now."
Nick smirked. "You, admitting you're lost? Now that's something new."
Renn rolled his eyes. "It's not my fault this place is designed like a damn labyrinth."
Finally, they reached the exit. The butler, with a practiced elegance, pulled open the massive doors, revealing the outside world beyond the mansion's walls. The cool breeze hit them instantly. The golden hues of the late afternoon sun bathed the streets in a warm glow, making the grand architecture of the Crimson Citadel look almost unreal.
"Thank you," they all said in unison as they stepped out.
Nick stretched his arms. "We shouldn't go too far. The further we go, the more dangerous it gets. That's what Lady Kirith told me, at least."
Renn, on the other hand, was brimming with excitement. He eagerly flipped open his notebook, pulling a pencil from the pack. He handed the remaining supplies to Nick, who tucked them into his backpack.
"Time to get to work," Renn muttered to himself as he sketched the layout of the area. He meticulously mapped out the streets, the placement of trees, the towering structures. Flipping to the next page, he drew one of the nearby houses. His pencil glided across the paper with precision, each line placed with practiced skill.
"Wow, look at this!" Renn's voice was filled with excitement. "The architectural style here is ancient. The type of wood used in these houses is nearly extinct! Do you know how rare this is? And the roof? it's flawless! I've only heard stories about these designs; I've never even seen them, even in pictures!"
Nick and Elira weren't listening.
Elira grabbed Nick's hand, pointing toward a small group of people gathered near a rough stone wall beside a house. "Look, there's some people there. Let's go see what they're up to."
Nick hesitated. "I don't know… I'd rather not. I'll explore the surroundings."
Elira rolled her eyes. "Suit yourself." Without another word, she walked off.
Renn, still engrossed in his sketches, turned the page to show Nick. "Look at this!" he said proudly. When he looked up, however, he realized both Nick and Elira were gone. His shoulders slumped. "Oh…" He sighed before flipping back to his map and adding more detail, determined to make up for lost time.
Meanwhile, Elira approached the group. There were three of them, two boys and a girl, all leaning casually against the wall. The moment they noticed her, the girl's eyes flicked over Elira from head to toe. A quiet chuckle escaped her lips, and the boys joined in.
Elira, oblivious to the mocking tone, flashed them a friendly smile and waved. "Hey there!"
One of the boys, with dark reddish eyes that matched his hair, responded first. "Hey."
The other boy chuckled under his breath. He looked nearly identical to the first. Same hair color, same build, only his eyes were lighter.
Elira's eyes darted between them, confusion clear on her face. "Wait… are you guys twins?"
"No," they both said at the same time.
The girl smirked. "We're triplets."
Elira's face lit up. "Triplets?! That's so cool!"
"Yeah, sure," one of the boys said flatly. "What's it to you?"
Elira blinked at his tone, which made her feel awkward. "Nothing, it just seemed cool."
The second boy tilted his head. "So what are you doing around these parts, farmer girl?"
Elira stiffened. "Farmer girl?"
The girl leaned forward, her smirk widening. "Shouldn't you be back at your village milking douns?"
Elira's stomach twisted. "What? How did you—"
"It's not hard," one of the boys cut in.
"Dressed like that, it would be hard not to know," the other added.
She felt like a fool. Like a child being laughed at by the older kids. But she wouldn't let them see her falter. Her pride wouldn't allow it.
"And what's someone like you doing here, anyway?" the girl continued. "Selling your milk?"
Elira clenched her fists. An idea sparked. She straightened her posture, lifted her chin, and forced a smirk. "Oh, no reason. Just had a meeting with the king."
The triplets froze.
Elira crossed her arms, basking in their stunned expressions. "Yeah, he called me personally. Even gave me shelter at the royal palace."
The boy with the lighter eyes narrowed his gaze. "Why would the king want anything from you?"
"Was it for… special treatment?" the other boy sneered,
Elira kept her expression cool, raising a brow as if the comment hadn't fazed her. 'Funny, but no. If that's what the king wanted, he wouldn't need me. There are plenty of desperate, empty-headed girls lined up for that.' She let her gaze linger on the girl for a moment before continuing. 'Me? I was summoned for something far more valuable. I'm one of the best assassin spies in the lands.'"
Her voice was smooth and confident. A perfect lie wrapped in enough arrogance to make it believable. She could see the triplets hesitate, their previous smugness faltering for a second.
She had no idea where that came from, but damn, it sounded good. The words dripped with confidence, and for a moment, she almost believed them herself.
The girl's smirk faltered. Her eyes flickered with doubt, but she wasn't ready to back down yet. "How come I've never heard of you before, or even seen a single picture? I don't trust you a bit."
Elira let out a soft, amused scoff. "Wouldn't be a very good spy if people knew about me, now would I?" She took a slow step forward, her hand drifting toward the hilt of her sword. "But if you're that desperate for proof, I'd be happy to show you another way. If you dare."
She unsheathed her sword an inch, the metal glinting in the light. The symbols etched along the blade seemed to hum with a silent challenge. She looked down at it briefly, then back up.
Only to find the triplets already gone.
She let out a breath, sheathing her weapon again. "Yeah, that's what I thought." Looking up at the sky, she smirked to herself before turning away.
Meanwhile, Nick wandered through the streets, admiring the way the golden light of the late afternoon bathed the ancient architecture. The cobblestone roads stretched ahead in near-perfect symmetry, their worn surfaces whispering of history. Towering buildings, crafted with impossible precision, loomed over him, their intricate carvings and archways unlike anything he had ever seen. Even the air carried a strange sense of nostalgia, as if this place had existed for centuries untouched, preserved in its own world.
The distant chatter of townsfolk mixed with the rustling of leaves in the gentle wind, creating a rare moment of tranquility. Birds perched on high ledges, their songs carrying over the rooftops. Nick took in the peacefulness, letting his mind wander, almost forgetting the strange circumstances that had brought him here.
A scream shattered the stillness. It was sharp, raw, filled with panic.
Nick's heart leaped into his throat. Before he could even process what was happening, his body moved on instinct. His feet pounded against the cobblestone, his breath quickening as he sprinted toward the sound. Someone needed help.
The cry for help came again, growing louder, more desperate, sending a chill down Nick's spine. His breathing quickened as he pushed himself to run faster.
As he ran, the transformation of his surroundings became more and more jarring. The smooth, polished walls of the grand district gave way to unpainted surfaces, then cracked stone, then entire structures that looked as if they had been abandoned for decades. The windows, once pristine and glowing with candlelight, were now shattered or boarded up. Doors hung off their hinges, some barely attached by rusted nails.
Then, the houses stopped altogether. The road stretched ahead into a barren expanse, littered with remnants of a life that once thrived here. Wooden benches were scattered about, some broken beyond recognition. A few figures slumped against the walls, their clothes tattered, their gazes vacant. Some were lying down, motionless, while others sat hunched over.
No one reacted to the cries for help. No one even turned their head, as if this was normal.
Nick skidded to a stop, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his eyes locked onto the source of the noise.
A woman lay curled on the ground, her arms wrapped around her head in a feeble attempt to protect herself. Two men loomed over her, their boots slamming into her ribs, their faces twisted in satisfaction.
Nick's hands clenched into fists. He didn't think, he moved.
He didn't know why he was doing this. His body had moved before his mind had a chance to stop it. Everyone else was watching, looking away like this was something they had seen too many times before. But Nick couldn't stand there.
He slammed into one of the men, sending him stumbling backward, eyes wide with surprise. The second attacker turned, his expression twisting into fury as he lunged at Nick with a clenched fist. Nick barely dodged, feeling the rush of air as the punch sailed past his cheek.
The woman, bruised and barely able to move, took the chance to crawl away, dragging herself out of their reach. Nick's relief was brief, his attention snapped back to the two men, who had now fully turned their focus on him.
This was a fight he couldn't win.
One of the men stepped forward, slow and deliberate, a cruel smirk creeping onto his face. Nick's mind raced. His heart pounded against his ribs. He had to do something. Anything.
Without thinking, he ripped his backpack off his shoulders and hurled it at the nearest attacker. The bag smacked into the man's face, making him flinch, momentarily disoriented. That was all Nick needed. The moment the man lowered his arms, dropping the bag, Nick surged forward and swung his fist with everything he had.
His knuckles connected cleanly with the man's jaw, the force snapping his head to the side. The attacker staggered back, completely caught off guard, losing his balance. But Nick wasn't done. He didn't give himself time to hesitate, he pressed forward, hoping to keep the advantage.
Something heavy crashed into his back. The second man tackled him hard, knocking him off his feet and slamming him into the ground. Nick gasped, pain radiating through his ribs as the weight bore down on him. His backpack had spilled open beside him. Pens and pencils rolled across the dirt. His hand shot forward, grasping for whatever he could. His fingers closed around a single pen. It wasn't a knife. It wasn't a weapon. But it was all he had.
Summoning what little strength he had left, he pushed off the ground, twisting to face his attacker. The man was sneering down at him, but something in Nick's eyes must have caught his attention, because his expression shifted. Warier now.
He clenched the pen tight, his breath ragged, and braced himself for whatever came next.
The man looming over him sneered, slowly reached into his coat.
Nick's breath caught when he saw the glint of steel, a knife.
His mind screamed at him to run, but his legs stayed rooted in place. The man let the blade dangle lazily at his side, rolling his wrist as if he had all the time in the world. He took a slow step forward, his smirk widening.
"Not so tough now, huh?"
Nick tightened his grip on the pen, sweat slicking his palm. This was bad, really bad. He had never been in a real fight before, not like this. A schoolyard scuffle? Sure. A staged sparring match? Maybe. But a fight where a man was willing to kill him without hesitation?
Was this worth the risk?
Before he could even think, the man lunged. The blade flashed, cutting through the air with terrifying speed. Nick stumbled back, narrowly avoiding the stab, but his heart slammed against his ribs, panic taking hold. He had no weapon. No real way to fight back. What was he supposed to do against a knife?
Desperate, he struck out. The pen in his hand darted toward the man's face, a feeble attempt at an attack. But the man was faster. He caught Nick's wrist with ease, his grip iron-tight.
A cruel grin flickered across his face before he drove a boot into Nick's stomach.
Pain exploded in his gut. The force sent him sprawling onto the hard ground, the impact rattling his bones. His vision wavered. The world spun. For a moment, all he could do was gasp, struggling to pull air back into his lungs.
He forced himself up, planting a hand against the dirt, blinking away the haze clouding his mind. When he looked up, the man was watching him, amused, like a predator toying with its prey.
Neither of them moved. The air between them felt thick, suffocating.
The man charged again.
No—he tried to.
Something shoved him forward, his body lurching unexpectedly. His face twisted in confusion, but before he could recover, Nick's instincts kicked in. He surged upward, gripping the pen like a dagger, and drove it into the man's neck.
The moment the tip pierced flesh, everything slowed. A wet, strangled gasp left the man's lips. His eyes widened in shock, hands flying to his throat as blood poured between his fingers. He stumbled sideways, choking, collapsing onto his knees before crumpling to the ground. His body twitched, his breath coming in shallow, gurgling rasps.
Nick stood frozen, his chest heaving. His fingers trembled around the blood-slicked pen, his mind struggling to process what had happened.
He saw her. The woman.
She was barely standing now. Her body swayed, her bruised face contorted in pain, but she was the one who had shoved the man forward, enough to give Nick the opening he needed.
They locked eyes.