The scent of blood lingered in the air as Aedric wiped his dagger clean. Bodies littered the tavern floor, and the only sounds that remained were the heavy breathing of his companions and the flickering of the oil lamps. The fight had ended swiftly, but its consequences would ripple throughout the city.
Garron stepped over Orik's lifeless body and retrieved a small pouch from the dead man's belt. He weighed it in his hand before tossing it onto the table. "The Syndicate will be in disarray after this. Orik was their spine—without him, the rest will tear themselves apart."
Seris sheathed her sword, her gaze sharp. "That buys us time, but Gorran won't sit idle. He'll know we made our move."
Varen scoffed. "Let him know. We're not sneaking in the shadows anymore."
Aedric didn't share his confidence. Gorran was no ordinary enemy. He was a warlock, a man who wielded dark magic and had influence that reached deep into Velmire's nobility. Their victory tonight was only the first step in what would be a long, bloody battle.
Lirian was already moving toward the door. "We need to leave. If the guards catch wind of this, they'll be on us before dawn."
Garron nodded. "Agreed. Follow me."
They exited the tavern through the back alleys, their steps careful. The streets were mostly empty at this hour, save for the occasional drunken straggler or beggar curled up in a corner. Aedric kept his hood low, his instincts on high alert. They had just made a bold move, and bold moves rarely went unnoticed.
As they moved through the maze of streets, a faint glow caught Aedric's attention. He turned his head slightly and saw it—strange blue embers floating in the distance, like fireflies but unnatural in their movement.
"Magic," he whispered.
Seris stopped as she saw them too. "Gorran's warlocks."
Garron cursed under his breath. "They move faster than I thought."
The embers flickered closer, revealing the shapes of hooded figures gliding through the streets. Their robes were black, embroidered with silver patterns that pulsed with energy. They didn't walk—they floated just inches above the ground, their forms wreathed in a dark mist.
There were three of them.
And they had already noticed the group.
One of the warlocks raised a hand, and the air crackled with raw mana. A ball of blue fire surged toward them.
"Move!" Aedric shouted.
The group scattered as the spell struck the ground where they had stood, scorching the cobblestone. Tessa fired an arrow toward the warlocks, but before it could reach them, the projectile disintegrated midair, burned to nothing by the residual magic.
Lirian unsheathed his blade, his stance tense. "This won't be an easy fight."
The warlocks advanced without haste, their hands glowing with dark energy. The air grew colder as the unnatural mist thickened, swirling around them like sentient smoke.
Seris wasted no time. She lunged at the nearest warlock, her sword flashing through the dim light. But just as her blade was about to connect, the warlock vanished into the mist, appearing again a few feet away.
"They're fast," she muttered.
Garron pulled a curved dagger from his belt. "Then we need to be faster."
Aedric ducked as another ball of blue fire streaked toward him, narrowly avoiding its heat. He rolled across the cobblestones, drawing his own dagger. His mind raced. Magic was not something he could counter easily—his skills were suited for close combat, not battling warlocks with supernatural abilities.
But magic had limits.
The warlocks were not invincible.
He glanced at the buildings lining the alleyway. The rooftops were close enough to jump to. If he could gain the high ground…
Without hesitation, Aedric sprinted toward the nearest wall, using a stack of barrels to propel himself upward. His fingers caught the edge of the roof, and he pulled himself up, taking a deep breath as he steadied his footing.
From above, he could see the entire fight.
Seris and Lirian were locked in combat with one of the warlocks, their swords clashing against barriers of blue energy. Tessa had drawn another arrow, this time taking careful aim. Garron moved with lethal efficiency, his dagger finding weak points in the second warlock's defenses.
The third warlock, however, remained untouched.
Aedric focused on him. He was standing slightly apart from the battle, his hands weaving symbols in the air. A spell was forming.
Aedric narrowed his eyes. That one's the real threat.
He took a deep breath, adjusted his grip on his dagger, and leapt.
The wind rushed past him as he descended, and in a single fluid motion, he drove his blade into the warlock's shoulder.
The warlock screamed.
His spell faltered.
The blue mist around him flickered, weakened.
That was all the opening the others needed.
Seris struck next, her sword slicing across the chest of the warlock she was fighting. With a cry, he crumbled, his body disintegrating into black ash.
Garron finished the second one, his dagger buried deep in the warlock's neck.
The third warlock—Aedric's target—struggled beneath him, his breath ragged. His eyes burned with fury. "You… think this changes anything?"
Aedric twisted the dagger. "I think it's a start."
The warlock coughed, blood trickling from his lips. Then, with one last whisper, his body dissolved into mist, vanishing into the night.
Silence followed.
The fight was over.
Tessa exhaled, lowering her bow. "That was too close."
Seris wiped her blade clean. "They were scouts. Gorran knows we're coming."
Aedric pulled himself to his feet, his breathing heavy. He had expected retaliation, but not this quickly.
Garron crossed his arms. "This city's about to become a battlefield."
Aedric looked at the darkened streets of Velmire, knowing Garron was right. Their war had only just begun.