Glittering in Silverlight, the webs awaited them, longing for their embrace. What would await them should they enter, Liron didn't know, but he was certain he would never leave this room again.
Jean hissed, steam erupting out of his ears. "I can't believe it. None of you move an inch. It's a Fran assassin."
"Who?" Gabriella asked, a kitchen knife in each hand. The rest hang at her hip, bound to her by the cloth she had carried them in.
"It's an assassin clan. They serve House Urach. Out of all the assassins at their disposal, they are the best. Rarn Urach married their former head, binding them to him. All Fran assassins have an ice-based Gates and use spiderwebs as their Conduit. It's their symbol."
"Wait, isn't that a good thing?" Liron asked. "You sound like you know them well. If they all use the same things, can't we use that against them?"
"No, you fool! Just because they use the same Conduit doesn't mean they operate the same. Every Fran assassin has to create spells unique to them. All knowledge on them is a trap, making you believe that you can predict them. You can't."
"Oh my," Gabriella said. "I knew you would lead me to my heart's desire, but I thought I would have to prove myself patient. This assassin sounds like a worthy opponent."
"Shut your fucking mouth!" Jean said, struggling to keep his voice low. "The fact that we're still breathing means the assassin doesn't know we're aware of them. As soon as they do, we will die. We have to consider our next step carefully. We have no chance against the assassin. With Angin and Zonis, we might…"
Gabriella threw one kitchen knife at a web string, triggering the trap. A gust of freezing wind slammed into them as ice spikes erupted from the webs. Within a heartbeat, the room was devoured, crushed in a maw filled with fangs of ice. Winter itself couldn't create such cold. The spikes resembled Amor's enlarged needles but dwarfed them in size. One alone would tear through Liron's body, impaling it without resistance. Between the spikes, Liron saw the frozen remnants of the room. He could have wriggled through the ice, but there wasn't much left unharmed. The spell had pierced all, destroying all that had belonged to him.
Jean blinked, remaining calm. His voice revealed the truth, each word trembling. "Gabriella… what was that?"
"I wanted to know what the Wizard can do," she said. "Now we know."
"And the Fran assassin knows that we are aware of them. We have lost our only advantage."
Gabriella raised her head, managing to look down at the taller man. "Good. It is below me to fight with anything but a disadvantage. What value would my win have if victory was guaranteed."
The windows on each end of the floor were closed off, ice spikes blocking them from the outside. Exit by exit, the inn was cut off from the outside world, blocking all inside. The Silverlight was dampened through the ice, fractured, and lessened as it traveled through it. The inn turned a shade darker, making it harder to see.
Liron turned his knife into his black blade. He chewed on his lower lip, eyes darting from dark corner to the next. Was the assassin inside the inn or outside? If inside, where did they watch them from? If outside, how would they tell where they were? Each new question was like another stab to the gut, burning him up from the inside. He had tasted the fear of death already, but it was still as potent as before. He knew what fate could await him. Amor had shown him. He had taught Liron well.
Jean rolled his shoulders, casting off an unseen weight that plagued him. He gave up on something. Hope? Control? Sanity? Whatever he discarded, its loss didn't shock him. It freed him.
"Both of you," he said, "Stay behind me."
Jean held his hand in front of his face, and a mask appeared in it. It was a wooden one, having the grimace of an evil spirit carved into it. A white face with crimson eyes and an open mouth filled with crooked teeth. One meant to scare little children, bringing fairy tales to life when retelling them to an audience. A traveler once described such practice as theater.
The Homunculus put the mask on, its strings wrapping around his head on their own. Steam burst out from the mask, engulfing Jean's head. It formed a cloud around his neck, mimicking the mane of a lion. Nothing but the grimace of a ghost was visible among the steam, giving the mask a fitting body.
Jean leaned backwards, breathing in the steam. Half of it vanished inside of him, and his body started to glow, his skin gaining a red tone. Beside the steam, heat surrounded him too. Sweat ran down Liron's body by standing too close to him. The Homunculus took a single step, and cracks spread through the floor. His muscles appeared to expand, filled with new energy.
Liron and Gabriella shared their awe for the display. From the little he had seen of magic, he had never expected such an execution of Magic. Jean took another step, breaking through a web string. From the ceiling, spikes shot towards him. His conduit provided him the strength to withstand the attack, but Jean grunted as they rammed him, shielding his head with his arms.
His heat melted through the ice, weakening it. With a roar, he slapped them asunder, scattering their remnants all over the floor. The few people trapped inside with them called up to them, asking what happened up there. Neither bothered to reply, all eyes on Jean. He inched forward, another spike coming at him. He met it with his elbow, shattering the spell on impact. Its force drove him, though, and he had to take a step back.
His spells allowed him to endure the traps of the assassin, but Jean still hurt from them. And they hadn't learned anything about the spells used against them. Before Jean could try again, Gabriella decided to contribute in her own way. She reached into their room, breaking off frozen pieces of a robe that hung near the door. She threw them around them, most in front of Jean. But as the Homunculus tried to walk towards one of the icy fabric shreds, another spell struck him in the side, hitting him hard.
"Hmm," Gabriella said, deep in thought. "So the assassin can tell us apart from objects. They will not trigger a trap unless they hit them directly? Or have they changed something now that their initial attempt had failed?"
"It's not just that," Liron said. "Why do it like this? Why not just activate everything all at once? We would be hit. But no, instead it's piece by piece. Why?"
Another call from below reached them, demanding to know what's happening.
"Of fucking course," Liron breathed. "They must only want to kill us and keep the rest… or someone else alive. The assassin can't kill the people down there. Or only one of them. That's it!"
Jean released the steam, gathering around his head again. "That means they are under the assassin's protection," he said, his voice distorted through the mask. "Perhaps an accomplice."
Liron nodded. "No idea how, but maybe that's how the assassin gets a read on us. We need to…"
Gabriella leaped over the railing, no word wasted on her companions. Like a cat, she landed on the floor below, rolling on the ground with natural grace. She activated several traps, frozen fangs biting into the ground behind her, touching nothing but her clothes. She never stopped, one moment of hesitation meaning certain death. Jumping off the railing again, Gabriella landed on a table, kicking off the mug that stood there.
Before the man sitting at the table could say anything, Gabriella was behind him, a blur as she moved. A knife pressed against the man's neck, she held him close.
"Dear assassin," she said, "it is a pleasure making your acquaintance. My name is Gabriella Simon. Remember the name. It will haunt your last, short moments of life that I grant you. I demand combat. Show yourself."
No answer. Gabriella looked around, tapping her foot. With her free hand, she stabbed her hostage in the side. The knife didn't go deep, but the man squeaked, begging for mercy. Having seen her descent, the remaining men stumbled backwards, talking to Gabriella, trying to negotiate a peaceful solution. She twisted the knife, her hostage crying in response.
"Ups, wrong man, then," she said, letting go of her hostage. He collapsed to the ground, holding his bleeding side.
Gabriella sprinted towards the nearest man, having to dodge several spikes until she reached him. She walked around with him, activating no trap. "Ah, so this is your man?" she asked. "No?"
Again, her bloody knife indulged in human flesh, but no response. Gabriella sighed, turning towards the next man. But before she could take a single step, ice erupted from unseen webs, blocking off her way.
"So, that's him."
Gabriella's smile was an innocent one. Pure and light on the eye. "Liron, Jean, I think I have discovered how the assassin's Magic works. We are surrounded by countless strings, too thin to see. I've felt a faint touch when running, snapping as I brushed against them. This is how they follow our movements. This is also how they prevent their spells from activating when I was close to those who they don't want to die."
Jean grunted, all he was willing to give. "My dear Jean, thank you. Now, please, make use of your cursed Magic and come down here to help me."
Gabriella was right. At first, when she leaped into action, Liron thought her to be mad. A mind shrouded, suffocating all sensible thought. A beast driven by her desire, with her instincts having gone silent. But he was mistaken. Gabriella was in control of herself, analyzing and studying her surroundings. Her eyes were clear.
But she was delusional. She was convinced of her victory, something written in the stars that only she could read.
The onslaught on Jean had all come from above. The ice blocking off the windows made it difficult to see, but there they were. All attached to the ceiling, the same strings as in their rooms. Any lower, and they would have died once they entered this floor, as they were supposed to in their room. Whoever the assassin was, they only wanted them dead. They had constructed the trap inside the inn to ensure they could minimize the harm done to others or the person they had to protect. Only now, after having survived the initial ambush, did they alter their traps, ensuring these spells would activate through these invisible strings.
Liron performed several haus, each flowing into the next one. Practice had borne fruit, but they lacked the masterful execution he had witnessed with Lance. His edge-alignment was off. With a blade of steel, he wouldn't have cut. His slashes had the appearance of a hau but functioned as the strikes of a club.
But his blade wasn't made of steel.
As his sword cleaved through the air, Liron sensed it, as minute as Gabriella had described it. His Conduit cut through strings, hundreds of them with each attack. Spikes rammed down where his blade had destroyed the invisible strings. It had missed him, but the cold emitting from it kissed his face. He was close enough to respond in kind.
One mistake, and he would fall victim to the trap, no matter his understanding of it. He needed to increase the range of his attack. Replaying all that Angin and Jean had told him of Magic, he knew that his Gate and Conduit had to become one, working as a unit. Amor had turned his fire into string and into the metal that formed his needles. He hadn't found a use for his embers yet, but he had learned to materialize his smoke into a blade. It would cut all it came into contact with. But the smoke he could shoot forward did little besides blinding his opponent. Angin had said that improving as a Wizard meant the sacrifice of certain spells in favor of strengthening the remaining ones. Jean had told him that as a Wizard, he had to choose a path and stick to it.
Liron held his blade high, performing a downward hau. But he combined the slash with his smoke cloud, sending them out of the sword. Doing the two at the same time worsened both. He had not had the time to master either. While his attack suffered, his idea had worked. Instead of mere smoke coming off the blade, it gained the sword's edge. It erupted from his Conduit, shooting forward, taking the form of a crescent.
His smoke severed through all, slamming into the wall, leaving behind a deep slit. After losing its momentum, the smoke hovered in the air, waiting for its next command. Liron sensed a connection to the smoke, but he didn't know what to do with it. Following his spell, pillars of ice stomped on the ground, visible proof of his attack's arc.
Liron cleaved through the ice spike in front of him, sending a smoke sickle forward. The embers aided him in slicing through the ice, but he struggled nonetheless. For the first time, something offered resistance to his blade. But it failed to stop him. In response to his spells, ice claimed the space in front of him. He continued, firing spell after spell until no more traps could trigger. His sickles sliced through the spikes, slashing through the ones at the beginning of its trajectory with ease. The ones at the end, though, failed, scaring them deeply.
Having outwitted the assassin's trap, Liron had improved his Conduit. Yet he felt not victorious. He leaned against the railing, his head spinning. With each spell, he had to force the smoke into form, twisting it into an extension of his hau. The smoke was still just smoke. Unlike Amor's fire thread, it hadn't gained the blade's edge as an essential part of itself. Its lack of momentum spoke of Liron's lack of control. His new spell was an unknown, a foreign thing he had to get used to.
Only once it became a natural part of him could he utilize it to its full potential. Emma's lute play had sounded horrible when she practiced a new song. Crooked and with no rhythm. Her fingers had always adjusted, training immortalizing the song into them. Then, and only then, did it sound like music one would want to listen to.
Jean had done his training, breathing in his steam. His body glowed with energy, hotter than a raging fire. As Gabriella did before, Jean jumped over the railing. He shared none of her grace, slamming into the ice wall blocking her way without cushioning himself. The ice shattered, as did the floor. Broken wood was flung into the air. Half his body had gone through the ground, his torso sticking out.
The impact hadn't affected the Homunculus, and he climbed upwards. The man once shielded by the spell didn't attempt to flee. He fell to his knees, praying to Jean as if he was Harras Himself. Desperate words on deaf ears, Jean grabbed him by the collar, pulling him close. The man cried from his heat. He would be fried like a pig above a fire if Jean didn't let go of him.
"Assassin," Jean said. "We have your accomplice. Show yourself, and we might show mercy to him."
Liron eradicated the webs leading to the stairs. He was unwilling to imitate either of them, his legs trembling from the thought alone. He allowed himself to grin, but as he did so, he noticed it. The window next to him, through the ice, he saw a silhouette, their appearance fractured through the spell. They pressed their back against the ice, humming something to themselves.
Liron failed to make out anything clear, but as they stopped, he heard their words, directed at him.
"You forced me to do this," the assassin said, their voice more a whisper when it reached his ears. "I didn't want to do this. This is on you."
The assassin flicked a finger, activating all traps at once.