The rain never stopped in Valoria anymore. It whispered across broken rooftops and hissed against the ruins of the southern wards, a city breathing through its scars.Mira pulled her cloak tighter as she stepped over a shattered archway, boots crunching on glass. “Check the perimeter,” she ordered softly. “No light, no sound. We move like ghosts.”Two young rebels nodded, fading into the mist. Their faces were too young for war, but then again, war never asked permission.Lyra emerged from the shadows beside her, her expression grim. “This is the third patrol we’ve lost this week.”Mira didn’t look at her. “The Circle’s purges are tightening. We’re running out of places to hide.”“Then maybe it’s time we stop hiding.” Lyra’s tone was sharp. “Every night, someone’s striking back, taking out enforcers, destroying supply convoys. Maybe we should find whoever’s doing it.”Mira’s gaze lifted. “You think I haven’t tried?”Lyra crossed her arms. “You think it’s him, don’t you?”The silence b

The Circle’s northern bastion burned like a wound in the night.A fortress of silver stone and divine wards, it loomed over Valoria’s skyline, its towers flickering with holy fire that never dimmed. But tonight, the light trembled.Terry stood at the edge of the outer wall, cloak soaked in rain, sword pulsing faintly at his side. The city stretched beneath him, half-swallowed in mist.He whispered to himself, “Corvin… you better have known what you were doing.” The sword responded, its voice silken and familiar.“He knew nothing of destiny. Only failure. You, however.”Terry cut it off. “are not my destiny.” He leapt.Lightning flashed as he soared across the chasm, landing soundlessly on the upper ramparts. The guards never saw him. One touch to their armor and the sigils deactivated; one strike from the flat of his blade and they collapsed, drained but alive.He moved like a ghost, silent, precise, merciful only by choice.Inside the tower, white corridors gleamed with sterile light