I Destroy the Empire

Chapter 3: Are you scared?

The moon was bright and offered just enough light to make the shadows of Lord Valgus’s estate look like claws.

Outside its 15-foot perimeter wall, a guard yawned and stretched his arms. He was halfway through a second yawn when a shadow detached itself from the larger darkness of the wall.

The guard’s eyes widened. The shadow was massive, a solid black shape of impossible bulk.

“Who’s th—”

THWACK.

The sound was a dull, wet pop, like a melon dropped on stone.

Boudica ‘Bo’ Ironside, a mountain of a man, lowered the armoured fist that had just caved in the guard's helmet. He caught his body before it slumped and silently dragged him into the bushes. Fast and efficient.

Bo gave two sharp raps on the stone. All clear.

Deeper inside the compound, in the barracks near the stables, the real filth of Valgus's operation was sleeping. A dozen hardened bandits and a slaver crew he used for his dirty work, were snoring in their cots.

A pale, ethereal-looking girl, Lyra Ashwood, slipped through their unlocked door like a phantom.

She didn't draw a weapon. She didn't need to.

Her eyes closed, and the temperature in the room went down. The shadows in the corners thickened, coalescing, rising up behind her. A massive, spectral form of a warrior that was composed of pure darkness and malice, formed at her back with its empty sockets glowing with a violet light that matched Lyra's own.

Just as the wraith, her Echo, raised its spectral blades, one bandit stumbled in from the latrine. He froze, his eyes bulging at the sight of the girl and the shadow-demon. He opened his mouth to shout.

He never made a sound.

A tendril of pure, liquid shadow shot from the Echo's hand, faster than a striking snake. It didn't just cover his mouth, it forced its way inside, solidifying down his throat, choking him instantly.

Lyra just watched, her expression blank, as the man’s eyes rolled back.

Then, the Echo turned to the eleven sleeping men.

Not a single bandit woke up. Not a single scream was uttered. Ten seconds later, Lyra and her Echo were gone, leaving only the sudden, cold silence of a dozen severed souls.

At the main manor, a man, clad in light armour designed for flexibility stood. Pyralis Cinderfall, his silver hair like a beacon in the dark, crouched by the ornate balcony door. Elara flanked him like a shadow.

He drew his Flammard called 'King's Folly', its edges catching the faint moonlight. He held it high, ready to make a grand, dramatic entrance. Taking a deep breath, he prepared his monologue.

I am the ghost of your sins, Valgus. I am the cinder from the fire you—

A sharp, impatient voice snapped inside his head. He forgot about the mental link he and Elara shared.

<Shut up and pick the lock, you drama queen. Bo just knocked out the last patrol. We're on the clock.>

Pyralis’s heroic pose deflated. He sheathed his sword with a pout.

“Fucking rude,” he muttered under his breath.

Elara just rolled her eyes, her lockpicks already in hand. Click. Snick. Thump. The heavy door swung open.

“Showoff,” Pyralis grumbled, stalking in behind her.

The main hall was dark, the moonlight painting sterile white squares on the marble floor. It was too quiet.

“Not very hospitable, is he?” Pyralis whispered, his voice echoing slightly. “Not even a servant to offer us a drink.”

<Shut up. I hear two. Around the corner. Heavy armor, light steps. House guard,> Elara’s voice sent in his mind.

Pyralis grinned. "Finally."

He stepped out from behind a pillar, right into the centre of the hall. “Gentlemen!” he called out. “Awful night for a patrol, isn’t it?”

Two guards in polished breastplates, bearing Valgus’s crest, rounded the corner. They saw Pyralis, his silver hair glowing, and shouted, drawing their swords.

“Intruder! Kill him!”

They charged.

Pyralis didn't move. He just raised his left hand, his expression one of pure, flirty boredom.

The first guard was ten feet away when his own sword was ripped from his grasp. He looked at his empty hand, confused. He looked up just in time to see his own longsword hovering in the air... before it shot forward and buried itself, hilt-deep, in his partner’s chest.

The man gurgled, looking down at the blade, before collapsing.

The now-unarmed guard just stood there, mouth open, his mind completely broken by what he’d just seen.

Pyralis looked at him with a bright and devious smile and asked in a terrifying tone.

"Are you scared?"