BLADE OF THE FALLEN

Chapter 3 – The Mark of the Blade

The moment the runes flared, the night cracked open, Crimson light tore through the narrow market street, painting the faces of merchants, beggars, and soldiers alike. The air itself seemed to warp, bending away from the sword as if afraid to touch it.

The Inquisitors stopped mid-step, not from hesitation, but from the shockwave that blasted out from the blade, sending crates and stalls tumbling, scattering the crowd like leaves in a storm.

Yes, the goddess breathed in his mind, her voice trembling with something between pleasure and rage. This is how they remember me. Axel’s grip tightened. “They’ll remember us as murderers if I swing this here”

Then give them a reason to run instead, The first Inquisitor charged, his visor glowing like ice. Axel barely moved before the sword pulled him into motion, one swing, and the man’s shield split clean in half, the pieces tumbling to the cobblestones.

The soldiers behind him faltered, the glow in their visors flickering, Kael’s voice cut through the chaos. “We need to move!”

She shoved past him, hurling a clay sphere to the ground. It exploded in a bloom of smoke, thick and choking. Axel felt her hand grip his arm and yank him sideways into an alley, the crowd’s screams still ringing in his ears.

They ran, the narrow streets twisting in endless turns until the shouts faded behind them. Axel’s pulse was still hammering, the sword warm in his grip, as if it had just fed on the fear of an entire city.

Kael rounded on him the moment they stopped in a shadowed courtyard. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”

Axel glared back. “Kept us alive.”

“You’ve done more than that,” she hissed. “Every pair of eyes in that market will talk by morning. By sunrise, your face will be on every bounty board from here to the border.”

Good, the goddess said, the smile in her voice audible. Let them come, Axel ignored her. “So what now?”

Kael paced, running a hand through her wet braid. “Now, we find someone who can get you out of the city before the gates close. Someone who owes me a favor… or at least hates the Inquisitors enough to help.”

The favor turned out to live above a gambling den.

The climb up the narrow, creaking stairs smelled of spilled ale and smoke. Kael knocked twice on a warped door, waited, then knocked three more times. A latch scraped, and the door swung open to reveal a stocky man with tattoos winding up his neck.

“Kael,” he said slowly. “Didn’t think I’d see you again without a knife in my ribs.”

“Missed the opportunity,” she replied flatly, pushing past him.

Axel stepped inside, eyes scanning the dim, cluttered room. Maps covered the walls, most of them marked with routes and symbols he didn’t recognize.

“This him?” the man asked, looking Axel up and down. “The one carrying it?”

Kael didn’t answer, but her glance toward the sword was enough, The man whistled low. “You’re either the unluckiest bastard alive… or the last hope for a whole lot of dead men.”

Axel opened his mouth to ask what that meant, but the goddess cut him off, This one reeks of blood and lies. Don’t turn your back on him.

“Can you get us out or not?” Kael demanded.

The man’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I can. But not for free.”

Axel crossed his arms. “Name it.”

The man’s smile widened just a fraction. “There’s a shipment the Inquisitors seized last week. My shipment. You get it back, I get you through the gates. Simple.”

Kael muttered something under her breath, but Axel caught the edge of it - trap. Do it, the goddess whispered. We need allies. Even treacherous ones.

A crash echoed from the street below, the sharp splinter of wood, followed by shouts, The man cursed. “They’re here.”

Kael grabbed Axel’s arm. “We’re leaving. Now.”

No, the goddess snapped. We’re fighting. “They’ll block the stairs,” Kael said, already moving toward the window. “We won’t make it out the front.”

Axel hesitated at the window’s edge. The street outside was a drop into darkness, too far to see the bottom, Jump, the goddess said again, a familiar hunger in her voice.

“Last time you said that, I almost drowned.”

Last time you survived, The door behind them slammed open, Axel didn’t wait. He leapt, The fall ended in a crash of barrels, the stench of fermenting fruit washing over him. He rolled to his feet, sword ready, and froze. The street wasn’t empty.

Dozens of armored figures stood at the far end, their visors glowing that same icy blue. But this time, there was someone standing in front of them, a tall figure in white and gold armor, face hidden by a hood, but with a presence so sharp it felt like a blade against Axel’s throat.

The figure lifted a hand, and every soldier behind them stopped. “Axel,” they said, their voice calm and certain. “You don’t know me yet. But I know you. And I know the sword you carry.”

The goddess’s voice, for the first time since he’d met her, was cold and sharp. Run.