Myras clung stubbornly to the mountainside, its jagged streets and weathered buildings testaments to the determination of its people. The city’s location, nestled at the base of sheer cliffs, ensured it was only accessible by footpaths winding through rocky terrain. For generations, miners had carved their fortunes from the surrounding stone, their work making Myras a thriving hub for trade. Yet, for all its resilience, the city held no defense against what Zerutod knew was coming.

The Order of the Ashen Serpent had taken root in the shadows of Myras, and the Festival of Lanterns had become their target. In less than a week, the city’s winding streets would flood with visitors, merchants, and revelers. It was the perfect stage for chaos, and Zerutod had heard the whispers in the marketplace: the Order planned to abduct Aeliana, whose healing magic had become a prize too valuable for them to ignore.

His boots clicked against the uneven cobblestones as he navigated the streets toward the barracks. The morning was crisp, the air carrying the metallic tang of the forges mixed with the earthy scent of freshly hewn stone. Aeliana had spent the morning preparing for the festival, her enthusiasm unshaken by the looming threat. Zerutod envied her optimism. She saw the festival as an escape from the struggles of daily life. He saw it as a battlefield waiting to erupt.

The barracks loomed ahead, its squat stone walls as unyielding as the captain who ruled them. Captain Calista was a figure of sharp contrasts: her armor gleamed even as her expression remained hard, her reputation for fairness matched only by her ruthlessness in battle. If anyone could lend him the resources to protect Aeliana, it was her.

Inside the barracks, the scent of oiled leather and steel filled the air. Guards moved with disciplined efficiency, though their movements slowed as Zerutod entered. His katana and sightless eyes drew lingering glances, but none dared challenge him as he approached the central hall. A young guard intercepted him at the door.

“State your business,” she said, her tone hesitant but firm.

“I need to speak with Captain Calista,” Zerutod replied. “It’s urgent.”

The guard nodded and disappeared into the hall. Moments later, a tall woman clad in polished armor emerged, her green eyes scrutinizing him with measured intensity. “Zerutod, the blind Rune Knight. What brings you to my barracks?”

“The Order of the Ashen Serpent,” Zerutod said, his voice even. “They’re planning to strike during the Festival of Lanterns. Their target is Aeliana, a healer with rare magic. If they succeed, they’ll use her powers for their gain. The city will suffer if we don’t act.”

Calista’s gaze darkened. “The Order has been a ghost for months. Whispers and shadows. What proof do you have?”

“I’ve heard it from trusted informants,” he said. “The festival’s crowds will give them cover to strike. If we don’t act now, it will be too late.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ll assign a detail to monitor her, but I won’t jeopardize the entire festival for one person.”

Zerutod’s jaw tightened. “If you protect her, you protect the city. The Order’s strength grows with every success. If they take Aeliana, it won’t end there.”

Calista studied him for a long moment before nodding. “I’ll consider it. But if this spirals into chaos, it’s on your head.”

“You won’t regret it,” he said, inclining his head.

As he stepped back into the bustling streets of Myras, Zerutod’s thoughts churned. Calista’s tentative support was a start, but it wouldn’t be enough. The Order’s reach extended far beyond what even the guard could manage. For Aeliana’s sake, he needed to plan, to anticipate every move, and to prepare for sacrifices—whatever the cost.

The Festival of Lanterns was Myras’s pride, a dazzling display of ingenuity and culture amidst its rocky terrain. But this year, the festival carried a dark undercurrent. Zerutod stood at the edge of the central square, listening to the laughter of workers stringing lanterns and children chasing each other through the uneven streets. To them, the festival was a moment of joy. To Zerutod, it was a powder keg waiting to explode.

He turned toward the barracks, the rhythmic clinking of his boots echoing on the cobblestones. The guards, under Captain Calista’s command, were preparing for the festival with military precision. Zerutod hoped that precision would extend to the defenses he was planning. His pace quickened as he reached the barracks entrance, the smell of oiled steel and leather wafting out as he stepped inside.

Calista was waiting for him in the strategy room, her green eyes scanning a map of the city. Lanterns were pinned at key points, marking the festival’s main attractions and the routes that would draw the most foot traffic. She barely looked up as Zerutod approached.

“If you’ve come to tell me the Order’s already in the city, don’t bother,” she said. “I’ve heard the same rumors you have. They’ll strike during the festival. The question is where and how.”

“The central square,” Zerutod said without hesitation. “The crowd gives them cover, and it’s where Aeliana will be. If we’re going to protect her, we need to funnel them away from the crowds.”

Calista raised an eyebrow. “Funnel them? You make it sound like herding cattle. People aren’t as predictable as you think.”

“That’s why we set traps,” Zerutod said, stepping closer to the map. “The alleys leading to the square are perfect chokepoints. We block the obvious routes and force them into dead ends. Then, we neutralize them before they can regroup.”

Calista folded her arms. “And what happens when civilians get caught in your traps? You’re not the one who’ll have to explain casualties to the Merchant’s Council.”

Zerutod’s jaw tightened. “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“Bold claim,” Calista said, her tone icy. “But bold doesn’t always mean smart.”

“We don’t have the luxury of playing it safe,” Zerutod shot back. “If the Order succeeds, they’ll take Aeliana and use her magic to strengthen their grip on this region. Is that a risk you’re willing to take?”

The room fell silent, the tension between them heavy. Finally, Calista sighed, her posture softening slightly. “I’ll give you the men you need to block the alleys,” she said. “But any collateral damage is on you, Zerutod. This isn’t just your fight, no matter how much it feels like it.”

“Noted,” Zerutod said curtly. He turned to leave but stopped as Calista spoke again.

“You might want to talk to your friend,” she said. “She was here earlier. Said something about not wanting to hide while others fought for her.”

Zerutod felt a jolt of frustration but masked it as he exited the room. Outside, the streets of Myras seemed brighter, almost mocking in their cheerfulness. He made his way to Aeliana’s temporary booth, where she was organizing supplies for the festival. Her golden eyes lit up when she saw him.

“There you are,” she said, a hint of exasperation in her voice. “Calista told me you were planning defenses. What’s the plan?”

“The plan is for you to stay out of harm’s way,” Zerutod said, his tone firm. “The more visible you are, the more dangerous this becomes.”

Aeliana frowned, her hands on her hips. “I’m not some helpless child, Zerutod. I can fight. I want to help.”

“You’re helping by staying alive,” Zerutod replied sharply. “If you’re out there, you’re a target. I can’t protect you if you won’t listen.”

Aeliana’s expression softened, but her frustration remained. “You’ve always done so much for me,” she said. “But don’t let your fear for my safety make you forget who you are. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

Zerutod didn’t respond. He couldn’t. The weight of her words pressed down on him as he turned away, his mind already racing with strategies and contingencies. The traps would work. They had to.

As he walked back to his quarters, Raigaloth’s voice slithered into his thoughts. “Sacrifices are inevitable. You know this. The more you hesitate, the closer the Order comes to claiming what is theirs.”

Zerutod clenched his fists. The line between necessary sacrifice and reckless abandon was growing thinner, and he was starting to wonder how long he could stay on the right side of it.

He returned to the narrow alley where his allies awaited him. Captain Calista stood with her arms crossed, her polished armor reflecting the faint glow of the lanterns above. Aeliana sat on a low stone ledge nearby, her face set with determination. Several others—local guards and a few trusted informants—were scattered around the alley, their muted conversations halting as Zerutod approached.

“The traps are set,” he announced, keeping his voice steady. “Guards will block these chokepoints during the festival. The alleys leading to the central square will funnel anyone suspicious into positions where we can intercept them.”

Calista stepped forward, her expression skeptical. “And the civilians? You can’t guarantee their safety if the Order fights back in the middle of a crowded festival.”

“That’s why the diversions are in place,” Zerutod replied, his voice firm. “Smoke bombs and sound traps will drive the crowds away from danger. The Order thrives in chaos. If we disrupt their element of surprise, we gain control.”

“And if that control slips?” Calista pressed. “What then?”

Zerutod met her gaze, unflinching. “Then we eliminate the threat, no matter what it takes.”

The weight of his words settled heavily over the group. Calista’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t argue further. Aeliana, however, stood abruptly.

“You can’t mean that,” she said, her voice trembling with anger. “There will be children there, families celebrating together. You can’t just decide they’re expendable.”

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt,” Zerutod said, his tone softening as he turned to her. “But if it’s a choice between a few and the entire city, I’ll make that call.”

“That’s not who you are,” Aeliana replied, stepping closer. “You’ve always been better than that. Don’t let fear turn you into someone else.”

Raigaloth’s voice slithered into Zerutod’s mind, cold and unwavering. “She’s naive. Sacrifices must be made. You know this. Why hesitate now?”

Zerutod clenched his fists, shoving the voice to the back of his thoughts. “This isn’t about fear,” he said sharply, his voice rising. “It’s about survival. If the Order gets their hands on you, Aeliana, everything we’ve done to protect this city will mean nothing.”

Aeliana’s gaze softened, though her frustration remained. “I just don’t want to see you lose yourself in this fight,” she said quietly.

Before Zerutod could respond, Calista interrupted. “Enough. We’ve got work to do,” she said. “The Order won’t wait for us to resolve our differences.”

The group dispersed, each ally heading to their assigned positions. Zerutod remained in the alley for a moment longer, his thoughts swirling. Aeliana’s words lingered, a quiet echo against the storm of Raigaloth’s influence.

He made his way to a secluded section of the festival route, where the cobblestones dipped into a natural bottleneck. This would be the Order’s most likely entry point. Zerutod crouched by a concealed trap, checking its mechanism. Smoke bombs and spiked barriers were hidden beneath crates and tarps, ready to spring at a moment’s notice.

As he worked, a low voice broke the silence behind him. “You’re going to lose her if you keep this up,” Calista said, her tone uncharacteristically soft.

“What do you want, Calista?” Zerutod asked without turning.

“To remind you that your allies aren’t your enemies,” she replied. “You’ve been pushing everyone away, including her. Whatever you’re carrying, you don’t have to do it alone.”

Zerutod straightened, his katana glinting faintly in the lantern light. “I don’t have time for lectures,” he said. “We’re on borrowed time as it is.”

Calista sighed, crossing her arms. “I hope you’re right about these traps,” she said. “Because if you’re not, we’ll have more than the Order to worry about.”

As she walked away, Zerutod exhaled slowly, his resolve hardening. The lines were drawn, and there was no turning back. The Order would come for Aeliana, and he would be ready.

Even if it meant sacrificing more than he had ever imagined.

The Festival of Lanterns had transformed Myras into a sea of vibrant colors and bustling crowds. Every street was draped with glowing lanterns that swayed in the cool mountain breeze, their light spilling across the cobblestones like a painter’s careless strokes. Vendors called out to passersby, offering sweets, trinkets, and charms said to bring good fortune for the year ahead. Yet, despite the lively atmosphere, Zerutod felt the weight of the impending confrontation pressing against his chest.

Perched on a rooftop overlooking the central square, Zerutod surveyed the scene below. His allies were scattered throughout the crowd, blending in seamlessly with the revelers. Guards stood watch at the entrances to the square, while Calista and her contingent patrolled the perimeter. Aeliana was stationed near her booth, her presence drawing attention from festival-goers eager for her healing charms. Zerutod’s jaw tightened at the sight of her exposed position.

“She should’ve stayed hidden,” he muttered to himself, his hand resting on the hilt of his katana.

Raigaloth’s voice coiled in his mind, smooth and insistent. “She doesn’t understand what’s at stake. Weakness will always resist necessity. You know what must be done.”

“I know,” Zerutod replied under his breath. “I just need more time.”

The Order’s strike would come soon—of that, he was certain. He had seen the signs: shadowy figures slipping through the alleys, whispers among the festival workers, and the unnatural stillness that followed in their wake. Every instinct told him that the enemy was already here, waiting for the perfect moment to act.

A whistle from below broke his train of thought. Calista was signaling him from the ground, her armored form barely visible among the crowd. Zerutod descended quickly, his boots hitting the cobblestones with practiced silence.

“We’ve got movement in the west alley,” Calista said, her voice low. “Could be nothing, but it’s worth checking out. You coming?”

“Lead the way,” Zerutod replied, falling in step beside her.

They navigated the narrow streets, the noise of the festival fading behind them. The west alley was dimly lit, its shadows deepened by the high walls of the surrounding buildings. Zerutod’s senses sharpened, his awareness extending to every vibration and sound around him.

“Stay sharp,” Calista whispered, drawing her sword. “If they’re here, they won’t make it easy for us.”

They moved deeper into the alley, the faint scent of oil and metal mingling with the cool mountain air. Zerutod paused, his head tilting slightly as he felt a faint tremor beneath his feet—a subtle shift that didn’t match the rhythm of the city.

“They’re here,” he said, his voice barely audible.

As if on cue, a figure stepped from the shadows, their face obscured by a dark hood. “You’ve been busy, Zerutod,” the figure said, their voice laced with amusement. “But you can’t stop what’s coming.”

“We’ll see about that,” Zerutod replied, drawing his katana in a smooth motion.

The figure moved swiftly, a dagger flashing in the faint light. Calista intercepted the strike, her sword clashing against the blade with a resounding clang. Zerutod stepped forward, his katana slicing through the air as he joined the fray.

The alley erupted into chaos as more figures emerged from the shadows, their movements swift and coordinated. Zerutod’s time magic surged to the forefront, slowing the world around him just enough to anticipate their strikes. His katana cut through the air with precision, each swing a calculated response to the enemy’s attacks.

Calista fought beside him, her movements fluid and disciplined. “We’re outnumbered,” she said through gritted teeth. “We need to regroup.”

“Hold your ground,” Zerutod replied, his voice cold. “If we retreat now, they’ll slip into the crowd.”

The fight was brutal but brief. The Order’s agents fell back, retreating into the shadows as quickly as they had appeared. Zerutod lowered his katana, his breathing steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him.

“We need to warn the others,” Calista said, scanning the alley for any lingering threats. “This was just the beginning.”

“Go,” Zerutod said. “I’ll stay here and make sure they don’t double back.”

Calista hesitated but nodded, disappearing into the street. Zerutod remained in the alley, his katana still in hand. The faint echoes of the festival reached him, a reminder of the stakes.

Raigaloth’s voice returned, colder this time. “You hesitate too much. Sacrifice is inevitable. Delay, and she will be taken.”

Zerutod closed his eyes, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He had made his choice long ago—to protect Aeliana at any cost. But as the night deepened, the cost began to feel heavier than ever.

The central square of Myras pulsed with life, its vibrant decorations and joyful crowds masking the growing storm. Zerutod stood in the shadows of a nearby alley, his pale lavender eyes fixed ahead, though his senses were attuned to every vibration around him. Each footstep, each cheer, each rustle of fabric was a piece of the chaotic tapestry he had to control.

The Festival of Lanterns had reached its peak, the sky above the square illuminated by glowing orbs that floated like stars. Aeliana’s booth stood near the heart of the square, her warmth and grace drawing an endless stream of visitors. Zerutod clenched his fists as he watched her laugh with a young child offering her a flower. The simplicity of the moment made the looming threat feel all the more unbearable.

Raigaloth’s voice coiled in his mind. “The moment is near. They will come for her, and you are still unprepared. You need more power, Zerutod. You need me.”

“I’ll do what needs to be done,” Zerutod muttered under his breath. “But on my terms.”

“You cling to principles that will only bring ruin,” Raigaloth hissed. “When the time comes, will you choose her life or your ideals?”

Zerutod’s jaw tightened. He didn’t answer.

Across the square, Captain Calista moved through the crowd, her presence commanding attention despite the festival’s chaos. Her guards were stationed at key points, blending in with the revelers but ready to act at a moment’s notice. Zerutod had to admit, her discipline and tactical mind were assets he couldn’t afford to lose.

She spotted him in the shadows and approached, her expression as sharp as the blade at her hip. “They’re here,” she said, her voice low but certain. “My scouts spotted movement in the east alleys. They’re closing in.”

“How many?” Zerutod asked, already running through his mental map of the square.

“Enough to cause a scene,” Calista replied. “They’re not subtle. If we engage them here, civilians will get hurt.”

“We can’t let them reach Aeliana,” Zerutod said firmly. “The traps are set. We’ll force them into the alleys and take them out before they get close.”

Calista hesitated, her eyes narrowing. “And if the traps fail? You’ve planned for everything but the unexpected, Zerutod. What then?”

“They won’t fail,” Zerutod said, his voice cold. “They can’t.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded. “Fine. Let’s hope you’re right.”

The first sign of trouble came minutes later. A low rumble from the east alley sent a ripple through Zerutod’s senses. The Order’s agents moved quickly, their dark cloaks blending with the shadows as they spread through the alleys. Zerutod signaled to the guards stationed near the traps, his hand gripping the hilt of his katana.

The first trap sprung with a sharp hiss, smoke bombs exploding and filling the alley with dense, choking clouds. Shouts and the clang of steel echoed as the guards engaged the disoriented attackers. Zerutod moved like a shadow, his time magic slowing the world around him as he closed the distance to the fight.

His katana struck with precision, each blow calculated to disable rather than kill. But the Order’s agents were skilled, their movements unnervingly coordinated. Zerutod ducked under a blade aimed for his throat, countering with a sharp slice that sent his attacker sprawling.

“Keep them contained!” Zerutod shouted to the guards. “Don’t let them reach the square!”

Through the haze of smoke, he felt it—a ripple of magic far stronger than the rest. One of the Order’s leaders had entered the fray. Zerutod turned, his senses locking onto the source of the disturbance. A figure emerged from the smoke, their aura crackling with dark energy.

“So, this is the infamous Rune Knight,” the figure said, their voice dripping with disdain. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

“And you’re underestimating me,” Zerutod replied, his katana at the ready.

The leader lunged, their magic swirling like a storm. Zerutod’s time magic flared as he dodged, countering with a swift strike that met a barrier of dark energy. The clash sent a shockwave through the alley, forcing nearby guards to stumble back.

The fight was brutal and unrelenting. Zerutod pushed his magic to its limits, the power of Raigaloth whispering temptations in his mind. Each time he slowed time, each time he struck with lethal intent, the voice grew louder.

“Do it,” Raigaloth urged. “Kill them. Show no mercy. It’s the only way.”

“No,” Zerutod growled, his voice a strained whisper. “Not yet.”

The leader’s assault intensified, their magic battering against Zerutod’s defenses. But just as they raised their hand for a final strike, a blade pierced through their chest from behind. Calista stood over them, her armor streaked with blood.

“You’re welcome,” she said, breathing heavily.

Zerutod didn’t respond immediately. The fight wasn’t over—the remaining agents were retreating, disappearing into the shadows as quickly as they had come. But the damage was done. The Order had tested their defenses, and while they had been repelled, Zerutod knew it was only the beginning.

As the smoke cleared, Aeliana appeared at the edge of the alley, her golden eyes wide with fear. “Are you okay?” she asked, rushing to Zerutod’s side.

“I’m fine,” he replied, though his hands trembled slightly as he sheathed his katana. “They won’t stop, Aeliana. This is just the start.”

Her hand rested on his arm, grounding him. “We’ll face it together,” she said softly. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

But as Zerutod looked into her trusting eyes, the weight of his choices pressed down on him. He knew the truth—if protecting her meant losing himself, then it was a price he was willing to pay.The central square of Myras pulsed with life, its vibrant decorations and joyful crowds masking the growing storm. Zerutod stood in the shadows of a nearby alley, his pale lavender eyes fixed ahead, though his senses were attuned to every vibration around him. Each footstep, each cheer, each rustle of fabric was a piece of the chaotic tapestry he had to control.

The Festival of Lanterns had reached its peak, the sky above the square illuminated by glowing orbs that floated like stars. Aeliana’s booth stood near the heart of the square, her warmth and grace drawing an endless stream of visitors. Zerutod clenched his fists as he watched her laugh with a young child offering her a flower. The simplicity of the moment made the looming threat feel all the more unbearable.

Raigaloth’s voice coiled in his mind. “The moment is near. They will come for her, and you are still unprepared. You need more power, Zerutod. You need me.”

“I’ll do what needs to be done,” Zerutod muttered under his breath. “But on my terms.”

“You cling to principles that will only bring ruin,” Raigaloth hissed. “When the time comes, will you choose her life or your ideals?”

Zerutod’s jaw tightened. He didn’t answer.

Across the square, Captain Calista moved through the crowd, her presence commanding attention despite the festival’s chaos. Her guards were stationed at key points, blending in with the revelers but ready to act at a moment’s notice. Zerutod had to admit, her discipline and tactical mind were assets he couldn’t afford to lose.

She spotted him in the shadows and approached, her expression as sharp as the blade at her hip. “They’re here,” she said, her voice low but certain. “My scouts spotted movement in the east alleys. They’re closing in.”

“How many?” Zerutod asked, already running through his mental map of the square.

“Enough to cause a scene,” Calista replied. “They’re not subtle. If we engage them here, civilians will get hurt.”

“We can’t let them reach Aeliana,” Zerutod said firmly. “The traps are set. We’ll force them into the alleys and take them out before they get close.”

Calista hesitated, her eyes narrowing. “And if the traps fail? You’ve planned for everything but the unexpected, Zerutod. What then?”

“They won’t fail,” Zerutod said, his voice cold. “They can’t.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded. “Fine. Let’s hope you’re right.”

The first sign of trouble came minutes later. A low rumble from the east alley sent a ripple through Zerutod’s senses. The Order’s agents moved quickly, their dark cloaks blending with the shadows as they spread through the alleys. Zerutod signaled to the guards stationed near the traps, his hand gripping the hilt of his katana.

The first trap sprung with a sharp hiss, smoke bombs exploding and filling the alley with dense, choking clouds. Shouts and the clang of steel echoed as the guards engaged the disoriented attackers. Zerutod moved like a shadow, his time magic slowing the world around him as he closed the distance to the fight.

His katana struck with precision, each blow calculated to disable rather than kill. But the Order’s agents were skilled, their movements unnervingly coordinated. Zerutod ducked under a blade aimed for his throat, countering with a sharp slice that sent his attacker sprawling.

“Keep them contained!” Zerutod shouted to the guards. “Don’t let them reach the square!”

Through the haze of smoke, he felt it—a ripple of magic far stronger than the rest. One of the Order’s leaders had entered the fray. Zerutod turned, his senses locking onto the source of the disturbance. A figure emerged from the smoke, their aura crackling with dark energy.

“So, this is the infamous Rune Knight,” the figure said, their voice dripping with disdain. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

“And you’re underestimating me,” Zerutod replied, his katana at the ready.

The leader lunged, their magic swirling like a storm. Zerutod’s time magic flared as he dodged, countering with a swift strike that met a barrier of dark energy. The clash sent a shockwave through the alley, forcing nearby guards to stumble back.

The fight was brutal and unrelenting. Zerutod pushed his magic to its limits, the power of Raigaloth whispering temptations in his mind. Each time he slowed time, each time he struck with lethal intent, the voice grew louder.

“Do it,” Raigaloth urged. “Kill them. Show no mercy. It’s the only way.”

“No,” Zerutod growled, his voice a strained whisper. “Not yet.”

The leader’s assault intensified, their magic battering against Zerutod’s defenses. But just as they raised their hand for a final strike, a blade pierced through their chest from behind. Calista stood over them, her armor streaked with blood.

“You’re welcome,” she said, breathing heavily.

Zerutod didn’t respond immediately. The fight wasn’t over—the remaining agents were retreating, disappearing into the shadows as quickly as they had come. But the damage was done. The Order had tested their defenses, and while they had been repelled, Zerutod knew it was only the beginning.

As the smoke cleared, Aeliana appeared at the edge of the alley, her golden eyes wide with fear. “Are you okay?” she asked, rushing to Zerutod’s side.

“I’m fine,” he replied, though his hands trembled slightly as he sheathed his katana. “They won’t stop, Aeliana. This is just the start.”

Her hand rested on his arm, grounding him. “We’ll face it together,” she said softly. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

But as Zerutod looked into her trusting eyes, the weight of his choices pressed down on him. He knew the truth—if protecting her meant losing himself, then it was a price he was willing to pay.