Novels by Lucien

Soren moved first.Gerath barely blocked in time. The impact jarred his arms. He stepped back, reset his stance, and Soren was already there—pressing, striking, pivoting. Not faster than thought. Faster than reaction. Gerath had trained soldiers for decades. He knew what a fighter looked like when they were reading him. Soren wasn't just reading him. He was predicting him.Gerath feinted left. Soren didn't take the bait. He pivoted right, swept low, and Gerath had to throw himself backward to avoid the strike.They stopped. Both breathing hard. The field beyond Wall Iros was quiet except for the wind."You're getting faster," Gerath said."You're getting slower.""I'm getting old." Gerath wiped his brow. "There's a difference."Soren smiled.They went again.The second round lasted longer. Gerath wasn't holding back anymore. He was using everything—feints, footwork, the breath control he'd spent decades mastering. But Soren matched him. Strike for strike. Counter for counter. When Ger

The guild hall was bright.Torches lined the stone walls. Long tables stretched across the main floor, heavy with roasted meats and fresh bread and wine from the northern vineyards. Merchant families filled the room in their finest—wool and silk and silver buckles. The hum of conversation was constant. The air smelled of wax and perfume.The Vail family entered together.Rordan led. His back was straight. His dark tunic was pressed. He looked like a man who had spent his whole life preparing for this moment. Aldric walked beside him, stiff and pale, his hands clasped behind his back. Maren followed, beaming, her amber dress catching the torchlight. Bran came last—quiet, watchful, invisible the way he liked to be.Soren walked at the edge of them. The dark wool tunic his mother had laid out fit him well. Too well, perhaps. He had caught his reflection in the carriage window and barely recognized himself.Eyes turned as they entered. The Vail name was known. Rordan's reputation was know

The guild notice arrived at dawn.Soren heard the knock from his room. Three sharp raps against the front gate. Then Mira's footsteps in the hall. Then Maren's voice, low and quick, calling for Rordan.By the time Soren came downstairs, the letter was already on the dining table. Rordan stood over it. Maren was beside him. Bran and Aldric were in their usual seats, waiting.Rordan looked up. "The guild is hosting a pre-Tournament gathering. Three days from now. All sponsored competitors and their families are expected to attend."He read the letter aloud. Formal language. The Merchant Guild requested the honor of the Vail family's presence. Aldric would be introduced to guild officials. The family's attendance was expected.Rordan set the letter down. "We'll all attend. This is Aldric's introduction. The family must present itself well." His eyes moved to Soren. "All of us."Soren nodded. "Understood."Rordan studied him a moment longer. Then he folded the letter and tucked it into hi

Breakfast was quiet.Not the comfortable quiet of a family too tired to speak. Something else. Something that sat in the room like a fifth person no one wanted to acknowledge.Maren was talking. She had been talking since Soren sat down, filling the silence with observations about the weather and Mira's bread and how nice it was to have guests. "He was so polite," she said, stirring her tea. "Proper upbringing. You can always tell."Rordan didn't look up from his plate."Most young men of his age and status would be prideful. But he was composed. Respectful." She glanced at Soren. "How do you know him again?""We share a class.""That's all?""That's all."Maren nodded, but her eyes lingered on him a moment longer than they needed to. She knew there was more. She always knew. She just never pushed.Aldric was silent. He had been silent since the dinner. Since Rudeus had glanced at him across the table and said almost nothing. Since their father had looked at Soren with something that

The ache was gone.Soren opened his eyes to pale morning light. He flexed his fingers. Rotated his wrists. Nothing. There was no stiffness. No soreness. Yesterday Gerath had pushed him hard, beyond what he was used to. Breath control, halo discipline, muscles he didn't know he had screaming for rest. He should have woken up barely able to move.Instead he felt like he'd slept for over a week.He pressed his palm against his chest. The pulse answered. Surging. Steady. His halo had healed him while he slept. Again. Faster than before. He was getting used to it. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing.He swung his legs off the bed. The figure on the wall surfaced in his mind—dark against the fading sky, standing on the parapet. Watching. Then gone. He hadn't told anyone. Who would he tell? Gerath would want to investigate. Kael would make jokes to cover his unease.A knock at the door."Young master, I'm coming in now."Mira. Soren opened his mouth to respond but the door was already sw

Soren found Gerath before dawn.The garrison yard was empty. The first gray light was just brushing the top of Wall Aldric. Gerath stood near the equipment shed, a pack slung over his shoulder. He didn't seem surprised to see Soren. He didn't seem anything."You thought about my offer," Gerath said."I have.""And?"Soren met his eyes. "I'm in."Gerath nodded once. No smile. No congratulations. Just the nod of a man who had expected the answer and was already planning the work. "Good. We start now. Come on. We're not training here."The field was beyond Wall Iros.Soren had not been this far outside the city since the breach. Since Doran. The eastern gate was smaller than the western one—less traffic, fewer guards. Gerath nodded to the watchman and led Soren through. The gate closed behind them.The field stretched toward the treeline. Scarred earth. Trampled grass. The same field where Soren had watched Theron Antares kill a beast-type with a single throw. The morning mist hung low o

The woods were dangerous. The dead were always wandering.They moved in a tight formation, weapons raised. Amon took point, his rifle barking once as he dropped a twitching corpse in a snowbank. Thorne was right behind him, his hands shaking. Hunter flanked the group.Lucian walked in the center. He didn't carry a weapon. He didn't need one.A horde of the dead came out of the trees, their glassy eyes locking onto the group. There were more than a dozen."Contact!" Amon shouted.Gunfire erupted. It was controlled and vicious. Amon killed seven of them himself, his shots precise and unrelenting. But the dead didn't stop. They kept coming, a wave of grasping hands and snapping jaws.A scream tore through the line. A young man named Boras was pulled down, his throat torn open by a dead man. Then another. And another. By the time the horde was put down, four of their small group were dead or dying, ripped apart in the snow.Lucian watched them die. He didn't feel sorrow. He felt a cold. H

The woods were silent, save for the crunch of boots in the snow and the ragged, wet breathing of the men carrying him.Lucian couldn't feel his left arm. The bullet had torn through his shoulder, shattering bone and ripping muscle. The second bullet had gone into his side, just below the ribs. It felt like a hot iron was buried inside him, slowly burning its way out."Faster," one of the men grunted. It was Amon, one of his most loyal followers. "We have to get him to the camp.""He's bleeding out," another voice said. Thorne. He sounded terrified. "He's not going to make it.""Shut up," Amon snapped. "The Master doesn't die here."Lucian wanted to laugh. He wanted to tell them how wrong they were. He was just a man. Flesh and blood and bone. He bled just like everyone else.But he couldn't speak. His jaw was locked shut. His teeth were chattering, and not just from the freezing wind.They reached the camp—a small cluster of tents hidden deep in the tree line, several miles from the r

The floodlights cast long, harsh shadows across the yard as Jacob walked Victoria to the kitchen. Scarlett followed them, her arms wrapped around herself, her face pale and blank."Stay here," Jacob said.He went to the bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit. When he came back, Scarlett was sitting at the table, crying silently. The tears ran down her cheeks without a sound.Jacob knelt in front of Victoria. He opened the kit and pulled out a clean cloth and some antiseptic."Hold still," he said.He cleaned the bruise on her neck. It was ugly. A dark, purple line where the wrench had pressed against her skin. But the skin wasn't broken. She would heal."Does it hurt?" he asked."A little."He finished cleaning it and put a bandage over it. It wasn't necessary, but it made him feel like he was doing something useful."Thank you," Victoria said quietly.Jacob nodded. He stood up and looked at Scarlett.She was still crying. She hadn't stopped. She was staring at the table, her hands sh

Jacob walked back to the fortress.The snow crunched under his boots. The floodlights were still on, casting long, harsh shadows across the yard. The bodies of the dead men lay scattered in the snow.Terry followed behind him, his shotgun still raised. "I'll check the perimeter.""Good," Jacob said. "Make sure none of them doubled back. Although I doubt they would."Terry nodded and moved toward the fence line.Jacob walked into the main house. The power was still out inside. The hallways were pitch black. He pulled a flashlight from the gray space and clicked it on, the beam cutting through the dark.He walked to the safe room at the end of the hall. It was a reinforced steel door. He unlocked it and pulled it open.Victoria and Scarlett were huddled in the corner. Scarlett was shaking, her face pale. Victoria was standing in front of her, holding a heavy wrench in her hands, ready to swing.Scarlett ran to Jacob, throwing her arms around him. "I thought you were dead.""I'm not," he

Evelyn was running out of time.She knew the cult was out there. They had been camping in the woods around the ridge for what seemed like forever. They had dropped her off a mile away, told her to walk the rest of the distance. Make her seem helpless. Make her escape seem more believable. They had been waiting patiently for her to give the signal.The signal was the darkness.Evelyn was supposed to cut the power. The fortress would go dark, the security cameras would die, and the solar panels, if there were any would be useless under the thick, red tinged clouds. It was a perfect ambush.But her first attempt had failed.She had slipped out of the house two nights ago. The generator was at a reinforced concrete shed near the back of the property, a heavy exhaust pipe jutting from the roof. She had managed to get inside, managed to loosen the main fuel line. But a backup battery had kicked in, keeping the gate lights and the main fence humming. She had been lucky. No one had suspected

Celeste woke in a cold sweat.Julie was asleep beside her. On the floor. She'd refused to leave. She'd held her mother's hand until she couldn't keep her eyes open anymore.Sara was sitting across from them. The shotgun was across her knees. She hadn't slept.Celeste's face was pale. Her eyes were glassy. Cloudy. Almost like she had glaucoma. She was already turning.She sat up slowly. Sara's hand tightened on the shotgun."I'm sorry," Sara said."It's alright," Celeste replied. Her voice was thin. But calm. "You're only looking out for your people."She looked at Julie. Still asleep. Still holding her hand."Please watch her for me," Celeste said. "She's been through a lot already.""I will."Celeste nodded. Then she stood. Slowly. Carefully."Let's take this outside then."They stepped outside. The snow was falling. The fence was back up. The generator hummed. The world was quiet.Sara raised the shotgun. Her hands were shaking.Celeste was twitching now. Struggling. Her body was fi