Kyritus’s world slowed when the third knock came, followed by a blunt order: “We know you’re in there! If you don’t open up, we’ll assume you’re the enemy of the state!” He cringed at the thought, but he didn’t stop moving, lost in a state of higher senses. His eyes were sharp, and he was flooded with the smell of sour ale and rotting wood, two odors that his brain had learned to ignore. Every step matched his heartbeat, thudding in his heart like a tight drum.

It wasn’t just him—everyone was on edge. Tyran was hissing at him to hurry, Rokus was watching the door with a conflicted expression, and Tiber stood silently, pressed up against a wall with her hand on her mouth. For a moment, Kyritus hesitated—considering the consequences of going against the kingdom. Then adrenaline shot through his veins, and he found Tiber in his arms, moving toward the cellar through the kitchen.

“That’s enough,” a soldier outside said, “kick it down!”

Just as Kyritus and the group entered the kitchen and could smell the scent of charred metal and rancid soup, the door shot off its hinges, crashing into a table.

“Find them!”

Kyritus struggled to move through the kitchen. Tiber was seven, and while she was depressingly light, she was awkward to carry, so he bounced around. He gripped her tight. “I’m sorr—“

Suddenly, something yanked Tiber from his arms. Kyritus tried to scream, but a hand clamped down around his mouth, and Tyran whispered in his ear. “Keep quiet.” The noble lifted Kyritus’s head, allowing him to see Tiber sitting in Rokus’s arms. “Now move.”

Kyritus gulped and nodded. Then he weaved through the kitchen, leading them to a cellar where he kept his food. He fumbled with the lock as the soldiers flooded the tavern.

“Hurry up!” a soldier who was likely a commander yelled. Then, soldiers ran up the stairs and rushed behind the bar.

“Hurry!” Tyran hissed.

Kyritus opened the lock and opened the cellar door, leading them down the stairs into a dark, dank space that smelled of rotting vegetables. There were depressingly meager supplies, enough food for two days at most. Kyritus and Tiber lived day to day, but at the moment, another day might not come. So he activated a mana crystal and led them through the narrow space, Rokus crouching as he moved.

On the other end, there was an identical staircase and lock that he fumbled with as well, unlocking it carefully.

Suddenly, soldiers rushed into the kitchen. “There’s a cellar!”

“Hurry!” Tyran whispered.

Kyritus’s fingers felt slippery and cold under the rusted lock. But he unlatched it by virtue of his muscle memory and then opened the door. Light flooded in from the cobblestone access road—along with the sound of yelling soldiers. Their forces were half a street over, entering from the front, but they would hit the alley as soon as the commander determined that Kyritus was a suspect.

Hurry, hurry, hurry! Kyritus turned and saw Rokus duck a full head to get out of the cellar, followed by Tyran, who threw up his hood. Fuck, I don’t have a cloak.

It was over. Once he and Tiber were seen, they would be permanent enemies of the kingdom—assuming they weren’t already. Kyritus lost his tavern and only source of income. What would he do now? He couldn’t make ends meet as is; now, he had to fend for himself and Tiber as a wanted criminal. What would happen to Tiber if—

“Snap out of it,” Tyran said. “Move.”

Kyritus turned and saw Rokus moving through the access road with Tiber in his arms. Then he heard the inner door to the cellar bang open. “There’s a cellar!” a soldier yelled.

Kyritus acted, rushing past Rokus. “Follow me!”

The both compiled, with Rokus holding the rear and Tyran keeping at his side.

At the end of the alleyway, a commotion broke out as citizens clashed with soldiers in the confusion. Kyritus knew that there would be a confrontation, but—

“There’s an exit!” a soldier yelled from behind them. “Go after them!”

No time, Kyritus thought. It was either run into the street blindly, risking being seen by passing soldiers, or wait and be discovered by the soldiers swiftly moving through the cellar. Kyritus decided on the former, rushing into the road without thought. If he died, at least Rokus knew where not to go. Parents protect their children at the cost of their lives, and as the person who raised Tiber from infancy, he felt that bond. So he rushed right into the middle of the road—

—and ran straight into a soldier.

“Hey! Watch out where you’re….” It only took a jolted pause for the soldier to link the disturbance with citizens running from an alley. In an instant, the soldier grabbed their sword. “Wait! Hands up!”

Kyritus didn’t stop. He rushed past the soldier. But he didn’t make it far before the soldier closed the distance, grabbing Kyritus’s shoulder with an iron grip that made him yelp with pain. Then he whirled around involuntarily, coming face-to-face with the soldier. They were close enough for Kyritus to see the stubble on the man’s cheeks and the gold flakes in the man’s brown eyes.

“You’re not going anywhere,” the soldier said. “Come with—“

Suddenly, Kyrtius’s vision went red as hot liquid splashed his face, and then the man’s headless corpse dropped to the ground, providing rhythm to the head that bounced on the cobblestones.

“Keep running!” Tyran snapped, hiding his dagger in his cloak.

Primal fear triggered in Kyritus’s mind as Rokus passed him. Then he took off at a full sprint, ignoring the sound of soldiers screaming at them as he weaved through the streets, cutting off monta-drawn wagons and citizens bustling through the road.

“This way,” Kyritus said, cutting down another access road. “It’s a shortcut.” Rokus and Tyran followed suit, but it proved to be a bad decision.

“They’re up ahead!” a soldier called in the distance. “Send the signal!”

A mage shot a fireball over the access road, cutting it off with pinpoint precision above the group, leaving it suspended there as if to say, They’re there—right there.

“I’m not surprised they brought out the elites, but it’s rather inconvenient,” Tyran said. “Rokus, I know you don’t…. Rokus.”

Kyritus turned to Rokus and found that he had stopped, dropping Tiber in the alleyway.

“What are you doing?” Tyran asked. “Whether you like it or not, you’re part of—“

“I don’t care,” Rokus said. “I’m not here because I have to be, and I’m not going to fight my own.”

“Tell that to them.” Tyran pointed behind Rokus. A mage in a white and green cloak—the colors of a Royal Mage—swiftly cut into the access road, followed close behind by a group of soldiers. “Are you aware what a Royal Mage will do to—“

“I don’t care, now leave!”

Tyran clenched his jaw and turned to Kyritus. “Pick her up, we need to—“

Another group of soldiers ran into the other side of the alleyway, cutting them off on both sides.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Son of a whore!” Tyran said.

Sara stared blankly at the stone ceiling above her, drifting in and out of consciousness. She gauged the hours by the number of times soldiers unlocked her shackles to let her go to the bathroom, trying to figure out her schedule. But when a person’s all alone with no one to speak to, the mind plays tricks on them, bending space and time in strange ways. The time between breaks sometimes felt like ten minutes for the first—ten hours for the next. And through it all, she was hallucinating while awake, reliving memories. They always started out good, but then she’d focus on the cringe-worthy details, and it would spiral downward until she couldn’t remember anything good about it. Eventually, her mind would snap into the present, and then the true hell began:

Please be okay…. Once Sara admitted her doubt, it gripped her in a vice and twisted until she couldn’t breathe. Images of Kyritus in chains in her imagination made her limbs lock up, but the very real memory of Tiber being held hostage by Jason’s forces entered her mind.

Put the bow down! Jason’s soldier yelled, pressing a dagger to Tiber’s neck as Sara pointed the Bow of Rymac at him. We’re not stupid. You’ll kill us the second this girl’s free, so we will kill her if you even hint at killing us.

Sara pointed the arrow to the sky and released it.

Do you think we’ll look up? he snorted. You’re—

Suddenly, the mana arrow nose-dived behind him and then shot back toward Sara like a boomerang. He sensed it, but it was too late. The arrow hit the back of his skull, making it explode like a ripe watermelon—

—then the slaughter began. Within twenty seconds, Sara had killed the other soldiers.

The difference between then and now was that she was there and armed; now, she was in a cell fifty miles away from her family.

In a fit of frustration, Sara pulled against the chains until they were taut against the wall. Even with her energy drained, she could probably snap the chain and then overload the cuffs in an hour, even with the thin mana in the room. But then what? Slaughter her way free? Make it all for nothing? And then what? If Rokus was with Kyritus and Tiber, they would be moving from Helscope any moment now. In the worst-case scenario, they’d be dead.

Regret washed over her. History favors the bold—

—but history only writes about those who succeed.

Sara gritted her teeth. Please be okay….

“Yield.” The Royal Mage said, walking through the access road as soldiers flooded in from Kyritus’s back. Kyritus looked around, looking for somewhere to run. “Bad move,” the mage said.

A crushing wave of magical pressure flooded the alleyway, making Kyritus’s arms prickle with gooseflesh as he took a knee. Tiber screamed from severe mana exposure, clutching her little chest as she hit the ground wheezing. “Tiber!” Kyritus yelled, reaching for her, but the magical pressure increased, making him drop to the ground.

“Please….” Kyritus wheezed as Tiber cried, pale and seizing.

Rokus looked between Kyritus and Tiber before looking at the mage. “Stop. She has tyrexis!”

The Royal Mage didn’t release the pressure. “Tyrexis? How interesting. Are you the owner of….” He turned to a soldier, who pulled out a piece of parchment and listed the names of taverns.

“Grollens?” the soldier read. “Telko? Hestiafern?”

Kyritus knew what the soldiers were doing, but he was helpless to stop it. He wasn’t a liar or trained against interrogation. So his eyes widened at the mention of Hestiafern, and his body tensed.

“Thought so,” the Royal Mage said. “A tavern owner and a girl with tyrexis. Interesting.”

Kyritus’s blood boiled, listening to Tiber scream. The man got what he wanted, and he was still torturing his sister. What was worse was that Tyran was dead silent, and Rokus wasn’t moving. No one would help her. “Stop…” he begged.

“Silence.” The Royal Mage released even more pressure, dropping Tyran to his knees. “I want them in shackles—“

“You’re killing her!” Rokus suddenly snapped. “She’s just a fucking child!”

Sara took a deep breath, praying that Rokus was with Kyritus and Tiber. She could count on Tyran being there. If all the statues had notices on them, it proved that Tyran saw the writing on the wall, complied with her plan, and left the capital. Now, his entire life hinged on Sara’s success. He would help them, but Rokus… he was a different story. The man was her comrade, fighting with her during the Great War. He was a good man, putting service before everything—but his family. The world would burn before he put his family in danger, and that zealousness made him sensitive to protecting all children. That’s why she chose him. That said, the only blackmail she had on him was a severely low blow, and she tasked him with taking her family to safety before she became a traitor. Now, helping her was treason, and she didn’t know if he would protect them from his own soldiers. Still, if he was there and Tiber was threatened….

“Silence, you swine!” the Royal Mage demanded of Rokus. “These ‘children’ are wanted in connection to treason. Now yield, or I will kill you on the spot.” He released even more mana to suppress Rokus, making Tiber scream—

—and Rokus snapped.

He silent-casted a movement spell and then closed the distance with the Royal Mage in less than a second. Grabbing the man’s head, he slammed it into a wall multiple times. He just meant to knock the man out, but he snapped out of his ire-filled daze when the mage’s head exploded in his hands.

Rokus took deep breaths, trying to comprehend what he did. He wasn’t bothered by killing the Royal Mage. Those fuckers did whatever the fuck they wanted with impunity, and he should’ve cracked a few earlier. The fact that the man was torturing and killing a child made his death worth it, but….

“Ranker! Zenth formation!” The soldiers on both sides of him lifted their shields, creating a wall on each side, closing off the alleyway.

Rokus’s mouth contorted in anguish when he saw Edico’s battle formation used against him. These were his people. Royal Mages could get fucked, but these were his brethren. “Stay back!” he warned.

They didn’t. The soldiers took confident steps in unison, closing in on them like a vice twisting shut. What do I do…? he thought.

“Tiber….” Kyritus scrambled to his crying sister. Thick blue varicose veins webbed across her face as she wheezed. She had lost consciousness, and she was fighting for her life.

Rokus looked at the poor child with anger in his veins. These kids didn’t even know that woman’s name! But for whatever reason, Lady Reece decided they were “family” and tried to save the child’s life. Now, they were on their way to torture cells. It was fucked up. It was all so fucked up….

No. It was worse. This wasn’t what he signed up for. Rokus agreed to help the kids get to a safe house in Telsenlore—before Lady Reece was arrested and sent Lemora into an uproar. Now, just helping these kids was treason, and his family would also be in torture cells.

I’m sorry, Rokus thought, looking at his fellow soldiers. My family comes first. The air around him warped and bent as mana swirled around him. Tiber started crying out again. Sorry, little one. This will be over soon….

“Body Aura!” a soldier yelled, seeing Rokus’s body reinforce with an indomitable mana shield. “Into formati—“

Rokus charged like a wild animal before they could prepare, ramming his shoulder into the soldiers’ shields and sending them flying. “Pick her up and go!” Rokus yelled to Kyritus. Then he turned to Tyran. “And you! Stop holding back, or I’ll kill you!” Then he turned back to the soldiers, picking one up and throwing them into the others. A fallen soldier slashed his sword at him. Rokus pivoted and stomped on the man’s arm, making it crunch. Then he used his other leg to kick the man in the head, breaking his neck.

“We can’t move you brute!” Tyran yelled. Rokus turned and saw Kyritus grabbing his sister in his arms as Tyran brandished two daggers. Yet there was nowhere to go since there was a wall of soldiers getting up after Tyran’s wind spell.

“Gah!” Rokus punched a soldier in the face before turning back. He wanted to drive his thumbs into Tyran’s eyes, but there wasn’t time. Suddenly, more flares shot up over the alleyway, solidifying that fact. “Fine!”

Rokus barreled past Kyritus and Tyran, slamming through the soldiers blocking the two’s path. He used raw force to make it through, pushing, kicking, and punching a hole through them. “Now!”

Kyritus and Tyran flew down the path he had cleared.

“You’re on your own once you get out there!” Rokus yelled. “So don’t fuck it up!” He brandished his sword.

“Meet us at the—“

“Just fucking go!” Rokus turned back to his fellow soldiers, wrapping his blade in a sinister black aura. One of the soldier’s eyes widened. “W-Wait. Y-You’re Ro—“ Rokus sliced through the man’s skull in half before he finished speaking. One person identifying him could land his wife and son in torture chambers. He wouldn’t risk it on Lady Reece’s words, but he couldn’t help but remember them.

Do this, and I’ll ensure your family is never left unprotected again, she had said when she had tasked him with Kyritus and Tiber’s protection.

You just tried to blackmail me. Why would I ever trust you?

Because I’m trusting you with my family. You’re the only person that will know their location. You’ll hold that over me forever.

Lady Reece’s trust perplexed Rokus. Even though Edico had warned him that Lady Reece might know him from her visions or the future, her trust was far too great. But when she explained the stakes, he could finally see it—the pain and desperation in her eyes. She needed someone to protect her family.

And you’ll protect my family if I go? Rokus asked.

I have a safe house and two sycounts that will protect them with their lives.

Then why don’t you have them do this?

Because I don’t trust them.

But you trust me?

Lady Reece fell silent and then asked, Will you do it?

Is it optional?

She fell silent again.

Send your guy, I’ll decide then, Rokus said. That was a few months ago. Then King Escar arrested Lady Reece and Edico (the latter's arrest being the deciding factor of his participation), Tyran showed up, and all hell broke loose. Now, he was in an alleyway, committing treason, killing his own people, worrying about his family, and wondering how he ended up in his position.

You better follow through, Rokus thought. If you don’t…. Rokus turned to Kyritus and Tiber, running away. Then he turned back to the soldiers, lifting his sword high. He had no choice but to trust Lady Reece. But if she didn’t follow through and his family was drawn into this nightmare—he’d decide then.