I hit the forest floor hard. The impact rattled my teeth and sent a fresh jolt of agony through my cracked ribs. The smell of damp rot and ozone filled my nostrils. This was the Death-Mist, the place where the kingdom threw its trash to be eaten by the things that didn't exist in the light."Move, peasant," a voice barked from above.I looked up through the haze. A squad of royal guards stood at the edge of the ravine, their silver armor gleaming even in the gloom. They had dragged me here like a carcass."You’re really doing this?" I coughed, spitting a glob of blood onto the roots of a blackened tree. "Ten years of service, and you drop me in a kennel?""Service?" The lead guard, a man I’d shared drinks with last month, sneered. "You’re a stain on the uniform, Jack. Malakor was right. A commoner thinking he’s a knight is a sickness. This is the cure.""Give me a sword at least," I rasped, reaching out. "Give me a fair shake against the hounds."The guard laughed, reaching into his b

The sound of snapping twigs and the arrogant hum of mana-batteries cut through the silence of the clearing. They weren’t even trying to be quiet. Why would they? To them, I was just a carcass waiting to be tallied."Check the ravine," a voice commanded. It was Julian. I’d broken his chin in the trials, but clearly, the royal healers had been busy. "Malakor wants a finger or a tooth. Something to show the King that the 'error' has been erased.""I hope the hounds left enough of him for us to have some fun," another voice chimed in. Marcus. He sounded bored. "It’s a waste of a good afternoon, hunting a man with no mana."I stood behind a veil of thick mist, less than ten feet from them. Thanks to the Null-Pattern, I was a hole in the world. They looked right at the space I occupied and saw nothing but fog."You find it yet?" Julian shouted."Nothing but dead hounds," a third knight called out, his voice trembling. "Julian... something’s wrong. These beasts didn't just die. They look lik

The black tide of serpents hit me like a physical wave, but the moment my fingers locked around the hilt at the bottom of the well, the world slowed down. It was cold. Bone-chillingly cold."Jack! The fire head! Look up!" Silas’s scream echoed from the rim above.I looked up just as the Hydra’s central head—the one that had exploded into serpents—reconstituted itself into a gargantuan maw of liquid flame. It wasn't just fire; it was compressed mana, white and screaming.“Burn, little thief,” a voice hissed in the back of my skull. It wasn't the beast. It was a lingering magical imprint—Malakor’s signature.The Hydra lunged. I didn't have time to pull the blade from the muck. I reached out with my left hand, my fingers splayed. My chest felt like it was being ripped open from the inside out."Void... Grasp," I mouthed.The white flame didn't hit me. It hit an invisible wall of pure hunger. The fire bent, twisting in mid-air, spiraling into the center of my palm."What are you doing?" S

The Siphon-Engine groaned one last time and died, its internal crystals shattered by the sheer pressure of my presence. Malakor was gone—a phantom projection, a taunt—but the tax collector’s main camp sat just over the next ridge, glowing with the arrogant warmth of stolen mana-lamps."You’re going in there? Alone?" Silas asked, his straw feet crunching on the dead grass. "They have a battalion of Red-Cloaks, Jack. They’ll see you coming from a mile away.""Let them see," I said. My voice didn't sound like mine anymore. It was a hollow vibration, a low frequency that made Silas’s burlap chest rattle."You're not listening. They have high-tier illumination spells. You can't use that Null-Pattern trick if the whole camp is glowing like a second sun."I looked at the Black-Iron core pulsing beneath my skin. The golden crown on my arm was gone, drowned in an ink-black sea of veins. "I’m not going to hide, Silas. I’m going to turn out the lights."I walked toward the perimeter. Two guards

The white-haired assassin didn't lunge. She didn't strike. She simply stood there on the precipice, watching the Inquisitors descend like spiders on silken threads."You're making a mistake, Jack," she called down, her voice cutting through the whistling wind."I’ve been making those all week," I spat, my fingers tightening around the Star-Steel hilt. The shadow-blade hissed, hungry for the white light of the Holy Seals. "You want to talk, or are you just here to watch your friends die?""They aren't my friends," she said, leaping from the cliff. She landed silently between me and the lead Inquisitor. "And if you kill them now, you'll never get inside the capital gates."The lead Inquisitor skidded to a halt, his hands flickering with holy fire. "Lady Lyra? What is the meaning of this? Move aside! The bounty on this Void-creature is royal decree!""The decree is a lie, Castor," Lyra said, her back to me. "And you're a fool if you think Malakor is going to pay you in anything but a sha