Of Flame, Sand, and Gold

Chapter 2

The city always grew quieter just before violence; a strange, breath-held stillness that settled across the rooftops like dust waiting to be stirred.

Kaelen felt it. The weight of it. Like the world was warning him: This is where the thread unravels.

He moved fast through Aru’Shenu’s back alleys, Saltana at his side, her pale dress kicking up ash and dirt with every hurried step. The wedding bell had already sounded — the wrong kind. Not celebration. Not a union. A warning.

They were late. Or maybe… just in time for trouble.

Saltana didn’t ask questions. She ran without stumbling, her eyes locked ahead, her hand still gripping his like she was afraid he’d vanish if she let go.

Then came the first sound; a footstep behind them. Just one. Precise. Calculated.

Kaelen stopped cold. “Run,” he said.

Saltana blinked. “What—”

“Run. Now.”

She turned without another word and darted into the nearest alley. Kaelen followed her, just long enough to catch a glimpse of a figure dropping from a rooftop behind them. 

Cloaked. 

Hooded. 

Armed.

This isn’t a warning anymore, Kaelen thought. This is a message… as the bells continued to vibrate throughout the town.

They turned a corner and stopped at a dead end. Cracked stone walls boxed them in, and Kaelen’s stomach turned. Trapped.

Saltana spun to him, breath shallow. “What do we do?” Kaelen scanned the alley. No exits. No balconies to climb. Just him, her, and the sound of boots approaching.

He didn’t answer. Not with words.

Kaelen stepped forward and slipped the small baton from his belt — a steel rod reinforced at each end, worn smooth by years of use. Not elegant. Not flashy. But it got the job done.

Two attackers emerged at the alley’s mouth. Their faces were hidden, but their body language said everything.

They weren’t here to scare him. They were here to end something.

Kaelen turned briefly to Saltana. “Get behind me. Stay down. Don’t move unless I say.”

She nodded, still clutching her dress like it might unravel under pressure. 

Kaelen stepped into the center of the alley. “I’m not in the mood for speeches,” he called out, voice steady. “So if you’re here to talk, now’s your chance.”

No answer. Just the hiss of steel sliding free from sheaths..Of course not.

The first one lunged; a sharp, clean strike aimed for Kaelen’s ribs. He ducked low, twisting, the baton meeting the blade with a sharp clang that echoed down the stone.

Pain jolted up his arm, but he didn’t stop. He spun and struck the attacker’s knee with a sharp jab. The man staggered — just long enough for Kaelen to land a hit across his mask.

The second attacker moved quicker, flanking him from the side. Kaelen tried to block, but the blade caught his thigh; shallow, but deep enough to burn.

He hissed through clenched teeth. Not fatal. Not yet.

He stepped back, dragging his leg slightly, blood already soaking through his trousers. Behind him, Saltana was frozen against the wall — pale, wide-eyed, and silent.

The second man came again, more confident this time. Kaelen met the attack with a brutal strike of his baton, shoving the blade off-angle. But the first attacker was already recovering.

He was going to lose. Not because he wasn’t good. He was. But these weren’t street thugs. They were trained. Synchronized. Efficient.

And he was bleeding. He braced for the next attack — one hand on his side, the other gripping the baton like it was the only thing keeping him standing.

Then: BOOM.

A crash of metal and stone. One attacker flew sideways like a ragdoll, slamming into the wall and crumpling with a grunt.

Kaelen blinked.

Someone stepped through the smoke — tall, wrapped in storm-colored armor, a massive hammer resting against one shoulder like it weighed nothing.

She walked toward him, unbothered, her presence slicing through the tension like lightning through silence.

Kaelen didn’t even need to see her face. “Of course it’s you,” he muttered. Amara Silein removed her helmet with a snap. 

Her expression screamed; BORED. “Still getting into trouble, I see.”

“I try to keep things interesting.”

Behind her, the second attacker scrambled to retreat, dragging the first one with him into the alley’s shadows. Amara didn’t follow. She didn’t need to. They knew better now.

Kaelen lowered his baton and leaned against the wall, breathing hard. Saltana crept forward. “Are they gone?”

“For now,” Amara said. “But not for long.”

Kaelen looked at her, eyes narrowing. “You’re not here by accident, are you?” Amara smiled faintly. “I’m never anywhere by accident.”

Kaelen knew that smile. It meant things were worse than he realized. He wiped the blood from his leg and tried to ignore how dizzy he suddenly felt. “If you’re here, that means something’s started.”

“It never stopped,” Amara said softly. “You were just pretending it had.”

Saltana looked between them, confused and visibly shaken. “Who are you people?”

Kaelen almost laughed, but the pain in his leg cut it short. “People with luck,” he muttered.

Amara stepped closer and offered her arm. “Come on, old flame. You’re bleeding on my city.”

Kaelen took it, his pride too exhausted to argue.

As they limped away into the deepening dusk, Saltana trailing uncertainty behind them, the wind stirred across the rooftops — and in the silence, the city watched.

It knew.

Something had returned.