Chapter 1
Kaelith — The Night of the Bear Attack
That bear wasn't normal.
It should have been hibernating. Even at night, even injured—nothing that size should have been roaming this deep into the woods.
I knew exactly where I'd left the body.
When I returned, blood was foaming from its mouth, bubbling from the wounds I'd already given it. I felt a brief flicker of pity. Whatever had dragged it from its den must have been desperate—or powerful.
I followed the trail back to the cave.
And froze.
"Footprints?"
Human. Seven of them.
That made no sense.
Moving a full-grown bear would've required armor, weapons, and coordination. This wasn't some village hunting party. I crouched lower, scanning—
Snap.
I spun.
Whatever made that sound was heavy.
Lucky for me, the moon was full. Silver light flooded the clearing just as a single man stepped into view, his armor glinting faintly.
I moved.
In a breath, I was above the cave entrance.
As he approached, I heard him mutter, "Where did he—"
I dropped.
We hit the ground hard. He screamed in pain, but he'd live. For now.
"Who are you," I asked, pinning him, "and why are you hunting me?"
He laughed.
"Oh, how lost you are, Twenty-Four."
My jaw tightened.
"And how," I said calmly, "do you know that?"
I gripped the metal bracer on his arm.
The metal warped, sharpened, and pushed inward. He howled as it pierced flesh, blood spilling freely.
"Then you know what I can do," I said. "Still don't feel like talking?"
His hand twitched toward his mouth.
"For the Khan," he choked—and bit down.
Foam spilled instantly.
"Death to the Twenty-Five," he gargled before going limp.
Dead.
I cursed under my breath.
They knew who we were. What we were. And they were organized.
I turned and ran.
Nyra.
I needed to get back to Nyra.
The day before visiting the father
I didn't know where she'd gone. Normally, that would've mattered.
Today, something else did.
I perched on a nearby rooftop, my eyes fixed on Nyra's café. She wouldn't notice me if she was home—and she couldn't. Not with what I need to do.
A cloaked figure passed the café.
Once.
Twice.
Five times.
"You've passed that one too many times," I muttered.
I dropped silently and followed.
The figure turned down an alley. I rounded it fast—gone.
"You'll need better than that if you're planning to jump me."
I turned.
Sword drawn.
The blade flicked. 6 more figures emerged from the shadows.
I smiled.
"Now that's more like it."
Steel rang out. That was our music.
They outnumbered me, but their movements were wrong—too fast, too strong. Not normal humans.
One misstep was all I needed.
I sliced one cleanly, grabbed his chest armor, and crushed it inward. The metal folded, compressing his lungs. He gasped, slowed, panicked.
The others tried to separate me.
They failed.
I cut an arm—not fatally. I needed answers.
They retreated, abandoning him.
"Twenty-Four," the wounded man laughed weakly. "You're just as good as they say."
"Why her?" I demanded. "Why Nyra?"
"She's the new candidate," he said. "We will rob the Twenty-Five of the future."
He began making odd movements in his mouth.
Not this time.
I shoved my fingers into his mouth and ripped out a small capsule.
Poison?
He screamed in frustration—
—and a dagger buried itself in his skull.
I spun.
The original cloaked figure stood on a rooftop, then vanished.
I dropped the body, pocketing the capsule.
Nyra had to be protected.
Two Hours Before the Raid on Elos
"Well," I thought from inside the dungeon, "that couldn't have gone worse."
What mattered was that Nyra was safe.
Roland sat across from me.
"If you keep staring, your eyes will stop working."
"This is all your fault," he growled. "You're a plague."
I chuckled, the chains rattling softly.
"You have no idea how deep that hole goes."
The door screeched open.
Lord Smug himself.
"Restrain him to the chair."
I didn't resist.
Not yet.
Once bound, I noticed his arm—still limp.
He noticed my smile.
Smack.
I didn't move.
"I've taken harder hits from little girls."
Smack.
Still nothing.
"You broke my arm!" he screamed.
Smack.
"And I enjoyed it."
He grabbed a wooden club.
"I'll beat you, kill you, and send what's left to her."
A guard burst in.
"My lord! Rimor's banners—they're heading to the port!"
The color drained from his face.
"All guards are to be returned to the capital.".
"But sir the people—.".
"NOWWW!". He screams
He turned back to me.
"Now, where were we—"
I raised my hands, and wiggled my fingers.
"Me kicking your ass."
Chaos erupted.
I shifted the metal—chains loose, not broken. Guards rushed me.
Child's play.
I bound one guard to the other, fusing metal to limbs, and leaving them screaming in a tangled mess of limbs.
The lord backed away, wet fear pooling beneath him.
"You're a monster."
I smiled.
"I'm Twenty-Four."
I broke his other arm, his screams of pain music to my ear, I took the keys, and locked him in, morphing the lock beyond repair.
"Change," I told him, warping the lock shut. "Or I'll come back and finish this."
I freed Roland.
"I do this for her," I said. "Run. Be ready. When I'm done with what needs to be done, she'll need you."
"What are you going to do to her?" he spat.
"Everything," I said.
"And nothing."
I ran.
Escape
The city was chaotic. They knew the enemy was coming but nobody would warn the port. All of them are so selfish.
I stole a horse, cut the straps, and rode hard.
The gates closed ahead of me.
"Please work," I whispered.
I stood atop the saddle and leapt.
Hands hit iron.
Please form.
The metal warped just enough.
I rolled through, my skin scraped raw, and didn't stop running.
My comrades used to mock my sprint training.
This was why.
I need my gear.
I need to reach her.
Please.
Just stay alive until I get there