CAIN (Three Days Earlier)
I'm going to die in six months.
The thought doesn't scare me anymore. I've had three years to get used to it—three years of feeling my body slowly shut down, my strength fading, my time running out.
What scares me is dying with nothing to show for it.
Two hundred and forty-seven kills. Thirty-two years of life. And at the end, what will I leave behind? Nothing. No family. No friends except Lyssa. No legacy except corpses.
I need one last job. One final contract that matters. Something impossible. Something that will prove I didn't waste my life being a weapon.
Then I can rest.
The Shadow King's guild hall is crowded tonight. Thirty assassins gathered around the contract board, arguing about the newest posting.
"It's obviously a trap," Marcus—no relation to the queen's dead husband—says loudly. "The Eternal Queen wants to lure us in and kill us all."
"Why would she need to lure us?" someone else argues. "She's immortal. She could just attack the guild directly if she wanted us dead."
"Maybe she's bored. Immortals go crazy. Everyone knows that."
I push through the crowd to read the contract myself. Black parchment. Royal seal. Elegant handwriting.
To the Shadow King and his guild of assassins,
I am Queen Elara Moonveil, ruler of the Eternal Kingdom. I offer one million gold coins to whoever can successfully kill me.
The room erupts in laughter behind me.
"Kill her? She's immortal!"
"This is insane."
"Who would even try?"
I keep reading.
I know this sounds impossible. I know you'll think it's a trap. It isn't. I am cursed with immortality and have been searching for a way to die for three thousand years. Traditional methods don't work—my body heals from any wound. But I believe the curse can be broken with the right knowledge, the right magic, the right approach.
My curse flares—a sharp pain in my chest that makes me wince. Six months. Maybe less if I'm unlucky.
I'm not asking for a simple assassination. I'm asking for someone intelligent enough to research my curse, creative enough to find its weakness, and skilled enough to exploit it. This is a challenge for your best.
A challenge for the best.
I've never failed a contract. Not once. Kings, warlords, monsters—I've killed them all. But they could all die. They were all possible.
This is impossible.
Which is exactly why I want it.
"You're not seriously considering this." Lyssa appears beside me. She's my handler, my only friend, and the only person in this guild who tells me the truth.
"Why not?" I ask.
"Because it's suicide. The Eternal Queen is the most powerful being in seven kingdoms. You walk into her palace, you're not walking out."
"I'm dying anyway, Lyssa."
Her face tightens. She knows about my curse. She's watched me get weaker over three years. "That's exactly why you shouldn't take this. Spend your last six months doing something that matters. Not chasing an impossible contract."
"This is something that matters." I tap the contract. "If I can kill someone who can't die, that's a legacy. That's proof that I was the best."
"It's proof you're suicidal," she mutters.
Maybe she's right. Maybe I am suicidal. When you know you're dying, taking risks doesn't feel risky anymore.
"The queen went mad at the Grand Summit three days ago," another assassin says loudly. "Lord Matthias exposed her. She's desperate. Vulnerable. This contract is her asking for help the only way she knows how."
"Or it's a trap to capture whoever shows up."
"For what? She's immortal. What does she need with captured assassins?"
The arguments continue. Everyone has an opinion. Everyone thinks they know what this contract means.
But I'm reading between the lines.
I believe the curse can be broken with the right knowledge, the right magic, the right approach.
She doesn't know how to break her own curse. She's spent three thousand years trying and failed. She needs someone with outside perspective. Someone who solves problems differently.
Someone like me.
This is a challenge for your best.
I'm the best. Everyone in this guild knows it. Two hundred and forty-seven kills without failure. Every target dead, every contract completed.
If anyone can kill an immortal queen, it's me.
And if I can't—if this really is impossible—at least I'll die trying something worthy of my reputation.
"I'm taking it," I announce.
The room goes silent.
"You're insane," Marcus says.
"Probably." I pull the contract off the board. The black parchment feels cold in my hands. "But I'm also dying. This is my last job. Might as well make it count."
Lyssa grabs my arm. "Cain, please. Think about this. You could spend your last months somewhere peaceful. Find some happiness before—"
"I don't deserve happiness." The words come out harsher than I mean them. "I've killed two hundred and forty-seven people, Lyssa. I'm not a good man. I'm a weapon. And weapons should end being used for something important."
"Killing a suicidal queen is important?"
"Killing someone who can't be killed is." I meet her eyes. "Let me have this. Let me go out doing the impossible."
She stares at me for a long moment. Then sighs. "You're the most stubborn man I've ever met."
"That's why I'm the best."
"Was the best," she corrects quietly. "You're dying, remember?"
Like I could forget. The curse reminds me every day. Every breath gets harder. Every movement takes more effort. I'm running out of time.
Which is exactly why I need to do this now.
I take the contract to the Shadow King's office. He's an old man—older than he looks, preserved by dark magic. He's run this guild for fifty years.
"The queen's contract," I say, placing it on his desk. "I'm accepting."
The Shadow King studies me with eyes that have seen too much. "You know it's impossible."
"So was killing King Vareth. Everyone said he was untouchable. I touched him."
"King Vareth was mortal. The queen is not."
"Every creature can die. I just need to find how."
The Shadow King leans back in his chair. "You have six months to live, Cain. Why waste them on this?"
"Because I don't fail." I meet his stare without flinching. "Send my acceptance to the queen. I'll be at the Obsidian Palace by midnight."
"And if she kills you?"
"Then I die six months early. Not much difference."
Something flickers across the Shadow King's face. Amusement? Respect? I can't tell.
"You've been my best assassin for ten years," he says quietly. "I'd hate to lose you to a mad queen's trap."
"It's not a trap. She really wants to die."
"How do you know?"
"Because I want to die too." I turn toward the door. "Send the acceptance. I'm going to pack."
"Cain." The Shadow King's voice stops me. "If you succeed—if you actually kill her—the guild gets twenty percent of the payment. That's standard."
"Fine. I won't need money when I'm dead anyway."
I walk out before he can say anything else.
Lyssa is waiting in the hallway. Of course she is.
"I can't talk you out of this?" she asks.
"No."
"Then let me come with you. As backup."
"No. This is my contract. My job. My end."
"Cain—"
"I mean it, Lyssa." I stop and face her. "You've been a good friend. The only friend I've had. Thank you for that. But this is something I need to do alone."
Her eyes fill with tears. Lyssa never cries. "You're really going to die for this."
"I'm already dying. At least this way, I die trying something impossible. That's better than rotting in bed."
She pulls me into a hug. I don't hug back—I'm not good at physical affection—but I don't pull away either.
"If you survive," she whispers, "come back. Tell me the story. I want to know how it ends."
"You'll hear about it either way. If I kill the Immortal Queen, it'll be the story of the century."
She releases me and wipes her eyes. "You're the best assassin I've ever known. But you're also the dumbest."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
I walk away. Don't look back. Looking back makes leaving harder.
My room is small. One bed. One desk. Weapons on the walls. Everything I own fits in a single bag.
I pack quickly. Blades. Poisons. Lock picks. Everything I might need to kill an immortal.
Three hours later, I'm on a horse riding toward the Obsidian Palace. The contract is in my coat pocket. The queen's letter presses against my heart like a countdown.
Six months to live.
One impossible job.
Then rest. Finally.
The palace appears on the horizon just as the sun sets. Black crystal towers reaching toward the darkening sky. Beautiful and terrifying.
My death might be waiting in there.
Or my greatest achievement.
Either way, I'm not turning back.
I reach the palace gates at midnight. Guards stop me immediately.
"State your business," one demands.
I pull out the contract. "I'm here to see Queen Elara. She's expecting me."
The guards' eyes widen when they see the royal seal.
"Wait here," one says nervously. They disappear inside.
Ten minutes later, the gates open. A captain leads me through empty corridors. Servants scatter when they see me—probably because I look exactly like what I am.
A killer.
We reach the queen's chambers. The captain knocks.
"Enter," a woman's voice calls.
The door opens.
And I see her for the first time.
Queen Elara Moonveil. The Immortal Queen. The woman who can't die.
She's beautiful. Of course she is—immortality preserves beauty. But it's her eyes that make me pause.
They're empty. Completely empty. Like looking into the eyes of someone who died a long time ago but forgot to stop moving.
I know those eyes. I see them in my mirror every morning.
"Queen Elara," I say. "I received your letter."
"Who are you?" she asks.
"Does it matter?"
"Yes. If I'm hiring someone to kill me, I'd like to know their name."
Fair enough. "Cain. Cain Ashford."
We talk. Negotiate. Make our deal.
And when I shake her hand, sealing the contract, I feel something I haven't felt in three years.
Purpose.
I'm going to kill the Immortal Queen.
Or die trying.
Either way, I finally have a reason to keep going.
We sit. She starts telling me about her curse. About the sorcerer Aldric. About her dead husband Marcus.
And as she talks, I start seeing the puzzle pieces. The pattern. The solution.
She can't die because she won't forgive herself.
The curse feeds on guilt.
Which means the answer isn't a blade or poison or magic.
The answer is making her want to live.
But I don't tell her that.
Because if she wants to live, she won't need me to kill her anymore.
And this contract—this purpose—is
all I have left.
So I listen. I plan. I calculate.
And I make a promise to myself: I will complete this job.
Even if it destroys us both.