A full week had passed since Kael had given him the warning.


    "Wait a week. If I’m not there by then, leave the city."


    Kael had not returned.


    Raine knew what that meant. He had waited long enough.


    The Red Ember  was quieter tonight. The usual din of drunken arguments and clinking tankards had been reduced to a low murmur. Even the air felt heavier, as if the city itself was holding its breath.


    He had tried to convince himself that no one was coming—that the Arcanum had bigger threats to deal with.


    But that was a lie.


    The two mercenaries from before still sat in the common room, just as they had for days.


    They weren’t drinking heavily. They weren’t talking much.


    And they were still watching him.


    Not openly. Not directly. But in small, subtle ways—the way their shoulders were angled, how they never let their backs fully turn away from him.


    They had never left.


    They had been waiting for him to make his move.


    Raine exhaled through his nose. It had taken him days to fully accept it.


    The moment they had arrived at the Red Ember, they had made a show of being his long-lost uncles, acting like concerned family wanting to take him back home.


    At first, it had seemed plausible. They had spoken just enough about his past to sound convincing. But over time, the cracks had started to show.


    They had claimed to hate the Arcanum—yet they asked too many questions about it.


    They had acted like they had no idea what the test was for—yet they knew exactly how the selection process worked.


    They had lied to him, and they had done it well.


    And now, they were done pretending.


    Leora slid into the seat across from him, her eyes flicking toward the mercenaries before settling on him.


    "You’re actually leaving this time," she muttered.


    Raine kept his expression neutral. "I said I would."


    "You said that three days ago."


    "They weren’t as close three days ago," he said, voice low. "They’ve stopped pretending."


    Leora’s fingers tapped lightly against the table. A habit he’d noticed when she was weighing an idea she didn’t like. "They’re pushing you to leave first."


    "I know," Raine murmured. "They want me outside. Off neutral ground."


    She exhaled sharply. "They’ll expect you to take the back door."This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    "That’s why I won’t," he said.


    "The front’s worse. They’ll be waiting there too."


    "I figured."


    Leora’s lips pressed into a thin line. "The alley behind the kitchens is your best shot. But they might already have men waiting there too."


    Raine nodded. He had already assumed as much.


    One of the mercenaries stood, stretching as if he were just another traveler shaking off fatigue.


    Too casual to be real.


    Leora muttered a curse under her breath. "They’re moving now. If you don’t go soon, they might try to corner you in here instead."


    Raine made his decision.


    He stood, pushing his chair back.


    Leora exhaled through her nose. "I''ll handle it."


    Before he could stop her, she grabbed a half-full tankard from a nearby table and hurled it straight into the mercenary’s head.


    The crash of metal against bone sent the entire tavern into chaos.


    Raine moved.


    He pushed past the bar, slipping through the kitchen doors before anyone could react. The cooks barely looked up, too used to tavern brawls to care.


    He shoved open the side door, stepping into the dark alley—


    And stopped cold.


    The same mercenary who had been watching him for days was standing against the alley wall, arms crossed.


    "You’re predictable," the man said with a grin.


    A shift in the shadows behind him.


    Raine whipped around—the other mercenary had closed off the exit behind him.


    A trap.


    Of course.


    The first mercenary shook his head, his fake concern now completely gone. "You should’ve come with us earlier, boy. Would’ve been easier that way."


    Raine’s fists clenched. "You lied to me."


    The man smirked. "And you let us. That’s the funny part."


    Raine didn’t argue. He had known something was off for days—but he had ignored it, hoping he was wrong.


    "You’ve been running long enough," the mercenary said. "Come quietly, and this doesn’t have to be painful."


    Raine’s jaw tightened.


    They could have tried to grab him before. They could have gone after him in the tavern.


    But they hadn’t.


    Which meant they weren’t just bounty hunters looking for a payday.


    They had orders.


    The second mercenary, the one behind him, pulled something from his belt—a length of chain.


    "You don’t have to make this difficult," the first mercenary said. "Just hand over whatever little power you’ve got, and maybe we let you keep your hands."


    The threat was casual, but Raine knew it wasn’t an idle one.


    He needed to move now.


    He stepped back, shifting his weight—


    Then the air rippled.


    The alley darkened unnaturally, as if the night itself had thickened.


    A quiet whisper cut through the air—words Raine didn’t understand, but felt in his bones.


    The mercenaries froze.


    A heartbeat later, the darkness exploded outward.


    Both men collapsed instantly, bodies slamming into the walls as if an invisible force had struck them.


    A gust of wind sent dust spiraling through the alley—


    And Kael stepped forward.


    His black robes barely moved, his expression as calm as ever.


    "You were supposed to wait," he said.


    Raine’s pulse was still racing. "You didn’t come."


    Kael exhaled, shaking his head. "And now I had to clean up this mess." He glanced at the two mercenaries—both of them motionless, barely breathing. "Sloppy work, but effective enough."


    Raine swallowed hard. "What do we do now?"


    Kael gave him a knowing look.


    "We leave."


    No more warnings. No more waiting.


    It was time to run.