Varren's blade made contact with Kaelis' armour as he looked her dead in the eye.
"Strike, coward," Kaelis spat defiantly. She would rather embrace death the Ashen way—just like Jobe and the rest of her fallen brethren—than betray even a hint of fear. It mattered not to Varren. Either outcome sufficed.
As her metal armour began to give way, allowing the jagged blade to touch her skin, a group of daring Ashen swords burst down the stairs—led by Jobe's silver-haired second-in-command, Rudolph.
"Ashen-born, with me!" he roared, his voice tearing through the chamber like thunder.
War cries erupted. Seventeen swords charged toward Varren.
Disgust clouded his features.
"Stubborn. Just like I was," Varren murmured, casually tossing Kaelis aside. He turned his full attention to the oncoming wave.
She landed with a muffled thud, her crash masked by the clamour of rushing footsteps and defiant shouts.
"You may have honour," Varren sneered, raising his arms wide, "but... I have power."
Kaelis struggled to her feet, somehow finding the strength to drag her longsword across the ground. But it didn't matter.
Boom.
A burst of energy erupted from Varren—a chaotic force that propelled everything and everyone around him away. Kaelis and her sword were flung through the air, smashing through a window and plunging into the open sky—hurtling toward the lake at the tower's base.
Nothing could stop her descent.
She crashed into the waters below, the weight of her armour dragging her under.
With all opposition vanquished, Varren finished his statement.
"Power overcomes honour. Always."
The tower's pillars trembled, weakened by the assault. The structure began to collapse.
Varren descended the stairs nonchalantly, stepping over the bloodied corpses of Ashen warriors.
The Ashen Tower crumbled, painted red by the blood of its defenders—its destruction witnessed only by the silent crescent moon.
First light touched Ren's face the next morning at a shelter not far from the chaos.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. It hadn't been a dream—he was certain of that.
Looking around, he saw Castor biting into a glistening apple. When their eyes met, Castor paused, then casually tossed the fruit aside.
"I trust your night was peaceful."
Ren wasn't sure if the comment was sarcasm or just typical Castor. Maybe both.
He didn't respond. Instead, he stood and gazed at the sky, then dropped his eyes as if trying to remember something.
Tap.
A cold hand gripped his shoulder.
Castor instinctively reached for his pistol. Ren, almost unconsciously, shifted into Kaelis' stance.
To everyone's surprise—especially Kaelis'—she stood there, her hair soaked and clinging to her face.
She slowly withdrew her hand.
"I did not intend to frighten you," she said. Her voice was firm. There was no grief in it. Kaelis would never weep for her fallen brethren. Mourning would only mock their sacrifice.
For the first time, Ren saw her without her untainted armour. She had traded it to the water in exchange for her life.
She continued without pause.
"Varren. He came searching for you. Something about killing Stevan Gorr. Why would that matter to him?"
Ren popped a broken finger back into place, gritting his teeth.
"For someone who was all too quick to give us up for arrest, interrogation, and then execution," Castor interjected, pistol now aimed at her, "you sure do sound friendly."
"Careful who you wag your tongue at, friend," Kaelis growled, her bruised hand gripping the hilt of her sheathed longsword.
"Turn around and leave, Kaelis of the Ashen Order," Ren said, his voice steady.
"What?" she muttered, stunned. His words left her speechless.
"The High Castellan ordered me to protect you, Ren," she tried to explain.
"The High Castellan is dead. And it seems I have all the protection I need," Ren said coldly.
Her eyes widened.
"You intend to follow him? You trust him? A man you know nothing of?!"
"His last name is Green," Ren replied. "That's more than I know about you."
"Take a walk, Ashen-born," Castor added, menace in his voice.
Kaelis' grip tightened. Castor seldom spoke, but when he did, his words struck deep.
Ren spoke again.
"Listen closely, Kaelis of Ashen. Castor is a gunman by preference. Yet he met you with steel and held his own—if not bested you. Before that, he felled you with a bullet to the shoulder. Deadly precision."
He paused.
"Your body is shattered. I doubt you could even wield that sword if you drew it. Castor and I are leaving. Do not follow us. Else... I will kill you."
Without another glance, he turned and motioned for Castor to lead the way.
"Consider yourself fortunate," Castor echoed as he walked. "You faced someone who had touched the Wyrd... and lived."
Kaelis stood frozen. Her body wouldn't move. Only her lips obeyed her will.
"I am Kaelis, silver sword of the Ashen Order. Let the wind bear me witness and hear my oath this day," she said, her solemn voice halting Ren's steps.
He didn't turn. He just listened.
"I will find Varren the Vile. And with this sword, I shall claim his life. Watch your back, Castor Green... for I might just come for you when I'm done."
Castor smirked. He wouldn't go after Varren unless he had a death wish. Nor would he threaten himself, were he in Kaelis' position. But he wasn't. So he said nothing.
Ren walked on in silence.
Footsteps turned to distance. Then to silence.
When Kaelis could no longer see them, Castor finally broke it. It might have been the first time he initiated a conversation between them.
"I'd have taken her sword. I can't see why you didn't."
Ren exhaled, responding coolly.
"If I had taken her sword, I'd have given her a reason to come after me. I didn't want to give her encouragement."
Castor shrugged and kept walking—only stopping when Ren called his name.
"Castor."
He glanced back.
"Watch your back."
Castor smiled. He understood. But it didn't concern him. He didn't waste thought on what he saw happen to Anna Fog.
A few minutes later, Ren was on the ground.
"How long till we get there?" he asked.
"A day. Maybe two," Castor replied.
"We'll rest here for a bit," Ren said.
Castor already knew. He'd suspected for a while.
He spoke again—carefully, with precision.
"Why didn't you kill her?"
Ren scoffed—his usual dismissive response.
"I wouldn't want to spoil whatever it is I have rotten."
Castor didn't argue. Just turned away, leaving one calm remark.
"I'll leave you to it, then."
Ren nodded, lowering himself onto the bare soil.
And then—
The prompt appeared.
[MISSION FAILURE DETECTED]
Objective: Eliminate Kaelis of Ashen — failed.
[INITIATING PUNISHMENT...]
Punishment determined: Voice of the Dead.
Duration: 13 hours.
Ren cracked a fake smile and shut his eyes with a whisper.
''Well, damn."