The night air was heavy with mist as Kiel moved through the narrow alleyways of the old district. Every step echoed between the weathered stone walls, carrying with it a tension he couldn't shake. The city felt… wrong. Even the lamps that normally burned warm and steady now flickered like nervous eyes.
Behind him, footsteps followed at a measured distance. Not hurried. Not trying to hide. Whoever it was wanted him to know they were there.
Kiel's hand rested lightly on the hilt of his blade. "You've been tailing me for ten minutes," he said without turning. "Either say something, or stop wasting my time."
A figure emerged from the shadows — hood lowered, revealing the sharp features of Jalen, one of the few people from Kiel's past he hadn't decided whether to trust or kill. "I'm not here to fight," Jalen said calmly. "But you're walking into a nest of problems."
"I've been living in a nest of problems," Kiel replied, brushing past him. "What's one more?"
Jalen's voice followed him. "This is different. The Council's hunting you, Kiel. And not just you — they're moving against everyone tied to you. Your friends, your allies… even the ones you barely know."
Kiel stopped mid-step. That last part hit like a blade between the ribs. His mind immediately jumped to Lyra and Merek — they weren't equipped to deal with the Council's hounds. "Why are you telling me this?" Kiel asked, his tone colder now.
"Because," Jalen said, walking closer, "I owe you. You saved me once. I'm repaying the debt. But debts can only go so far before they get you killed."
Kiel didn't reply. He simply turned and started walking faster. Jalen sighed and fell into step beside him.
They reached the crumbling edge of the district where the cobblestones gave way to dirt paths. Beyond that, the old docks stretched out into dark water. And standing there, under the moonlight, were two familiar figures — Lyra and Merek.
Both looked rattled. Lyra's braid was loose, and Merek's usual grin was nowhere to be seen.
"They came for us," Lyra said as soon as Kiel approached. Her voice was tight, urgent. "Masked men. Not soldiers, but trained. They knew where to find us. We barely got away."
Merek glanced at Jalen suspiciously. "And who's this? Another one of your old friends who's gonna get us in more trouble?"
Jalen smirked. "Depends on how much trouble you're already in."
Before Kiel could explain, a sound cut through the night — not the quiet lap of water against the dock, but the sharp, synchronized rhythm of boots on wood.
"Council Enforcers," Jalen muttered. "They found us."
Kiel drew his blade. "Lyra, Merek — get to the boat."
"No," Lyra said firmly. "We're not leaving you."
"This isn't up for debate," Kiel snapped. "You move now, or you don't move at all."
Reluctantly, they obeyed, slipping into the shadows toward a small vessel tied at the far end of the pier.
The enforcers emerged — six of them, armored in black and gold, faces hidden behind angular masks. The leader stepped forward, a long spear in hand.
"Kiel Veyran," the man said in a voice that carried like steel striking stone. "By order of the High Council, you are to be taken into custody. Surrender, and your companions may be spared."
Kiel's grip tightened. "You'll have to take me the hard way."
The leader tilted his head. "So be it."
The dock exploded into chaos as the enforcers surged forward, steel flashing under the moon. Jalen moved beside Kiel, blades in both hands, their backs almost touching as they met the first wave.
The fight had begun — and Kiel knew this was only the start of a much larger storm.