Page 21 of Taken By The Dark Three
I chance a step closer, lowering my voice. “Selene, I used to be a noble here. My family was slaughtered by Orthani’s ruling class. I’ve wanted to burn this city from the inside out ever since. The Red Purna offers me resources, but that doesn’t mean I trust them entirely. They see you as a means to an end. I see you as an ally with common ground—both of us want Orthani’s downfall.”
She clenches her jaw, wrestling with her own turmoil. For a breath, her guard lowers, and I notice faint shadows under her eyes, a sign of exhaustion. “If that’s true, you’ll help me protect Ai—the child they locked up. She’s a purna, barely able to control her magic. Orthani wants to weaponize her, and the Red Purna sees her as… a spark for war.”
I nod, something twisting in my chest. A child caught in the crossfire of grand machinations. I recall my younger siblings, cut down in the purge that destroyed my family, and a flash of cold fury grips me. “Then we save her. That can serve both our agendas, and it’s the right thing to do.”
She assesses me, eyes flicking over my lean frame, the daggers at my belt, the worn boots that speak of many miles walked in the shadows. She must sense my sincerity, or perhaps she sees no immediate advantage in refusing my help. Slowly, she lowers the knife. “Fine. But I’m not about to trust you blindly. The Red Purna left me to rot. You could be just another manipulator.”
I incline my head in agreement. “I don’t expect gratitude. I only want results.”
A sudden crash from the corridor outside jolts us both. The candelabrum fiasco must have escalated. I move toward the door, pressing an ear to the thick wood. Voices shout curses as footsteps pound. My diversion might not keep them busy for long.
I turn back to Selene. “I have to slip out before the guards calm down. If they find me here, everything’s lost. But I neededto see you, confirm you’re still formidable. By the looks of it, you are.”
She scoffs, though her eyes spark with a fierce glow. “I can handle myself.”
A faint smile touches my lips. “I believe you. Listen—there’s a supply storage area near the southwestern tower. I can stash weapons or items you might need. If you find a way to bypass your bracelet’s perimeter, go there. You’ll find a hidden hatch leading into the old catacombs. Orthani never repaired them after the last quake. It’s a possible route out.”
She chews her lip, evaluating. “Worth a shot. But I can’t just walk out, or the wards will trigger.”
I nod. “I’ll work on gleaning a passkey or runic override from a contact in the archives. That might let me neutralize your bracelet. Give me time. In the meantime, keep impressing them. Earn their trust. The more freedom they grant you, the easier it’ll be for us to spring Ai.”
Her mouth tightens. “You realize we might not get many chances. If they realize we’re conspiring, they’ll lock me down, or kill the child. Zareth, Vaelith—none of them will hesitate.”
I bristle at the mention of Vaelith. I recall his arrogant face from years back, leading the squads that butchered my family. Another wave of hatred churns in me. “We’ll be careful,” I promise. “I have ways of lurking unseen.”
Her eyes flick to the door. “Go, then. Before they trace your sabotage.”
I hesitate, a surge of impulse driving me to linger. Up close, I see the faint scar along her jaw, a testament to past battles. The air between us hums with tension, unspoken challenges and alliances. I swallow. “Stay alive, Selene. Orthani will try to break you. Don’t let them.”
She lifts her chin, voice softening for a heartbeat. “They can try.”
Our gazes lock. Heat stirs in my chest, a bristling attraction forged from shared danger, though neither of us would admit it. A blink later, I slip away, pulling the door open a crack. The corridor echoes with frantic voices dousing the flames. Perfect. I keep low, hugging the shadows, and slip past the corner. The smoldering tapestry is half-torn from the wall, a sooty mess. Guards scurry about, cursing the incompetent who let the candelabrum tip. I skirt behind them, ducking through the side passage. My heart thunders with adrenaline.
As I descend the winding stair to the lower levels, I replay Selene’s words. The Red Purna’s betrayal is confirmed. Ai’s captivity is dire. And Vaelith or Zareth might close the net any day. I must act swiftly. The Red Purna never told me about Ai specifically, only that Selene’s presence was pivotal. They likely suspect that child’s power could ignite a war. If they get what they want, Orthani’s streets will run with blood while they posture as saviors. I have no illusions about their morality, but my thirst for Orthani’s collapse remains. If saving Ai can strike a blow at Orthani’s heart—and if it means forging a reluctant alliance with Selene—so be it.
I slip outside through the same side door I entered. The guard is still slumped behind the column, snoring softly. I ease the ring of keys back onto his belt, figuring no reason to arouse extra suspicion by stealing them. Then I make for the rope ladder near the foundry, scale up to the rooftop once more. The city sprawls under a pale moon, a labyrinth of sinuous streets and menacing towers. Over by the fortress ramparts, the candelabrum fiasco has drawn a cluster of soldiers, flames now extinguished but chaos lingering.
Reaching the rooftop, I crouch behind the crumbling chimney again, letting my pulse settle. My mind drifts to that flashback of my family’s last moments: my father’s frantic shout, my mother’s cry, the clang of steel in the hall. It still tasteslike bile on my tongue. Orthani took everything from me. The Red Purna claims to share my desire for revenge, but they used Selene as bait. How many more will they feed to these walls to stoke conflict?
I watch the fortress, considering my next move. Locating an override for that runic bracelet might be tricky. I recall an archivist—once a lowborn scholar in the city’s library of magical scripts—who might still harbor grudges against the nobility. Possibly I can bribe or blackmail them to get the runic key needed. Then it’s a matter of timing. We can’t free Selene or Ai unless we’re certain we can slip them past the wards.
A breath of night wind stirs, carrying the faint stench of the canal. My cloak ripples around me. Through a gap in the rooftops, I see the faint glow of the training arena where Selene apparently bested multiple soldiers. The image of her brandishing a sword with lethal grace sets my blood pulsing. That flash of hidden heat between us—it’s new. I haven’t let myself feel anything but cold vengeance for so long. Yet her defiance, her raw aura, pierces me. Perhaps we’re two ghosts drifting in the aftermath of betrayal, united by the city that wronged us.
I tighten my fingers around the hilt of my dagger, forging that stray emotion into a focused edge. No time for indulgent thoughts. I can’t trust her fully yet, and she certainly doesn’t trust me. But if we can form a partnership, it might dismantle Orthani from inside. My path is set: gather the resources needed, sabotage Orthani at every turn, and keep Selene informed when possible. The Red Purna will see me as a loyal agent, never suspecting that I might have my own agenda, or that I care about protecting that child. If the Red Purna plans to exploit Ai’s power, I’ll cut them down too. The only cause I serve is my own thirst for Orthani’s downfall—and maybe, just maybe, a shred of decency for those caught in the crossfire.
Resolved, I begin my descent from the rooftop, climbing down the precarious stone ledges until I land in a narrow alley. The reek of rotting trash hits my nostrils. I slip among the twisted backstreets, ducking under water-stained arches and stepping over broken crates. For a moment, I recall how these alleys used to be patrolled by servants wearing my father’s crest. So much has changed. My father is ash in an unmarked pit, my mother’s embroidered robes burned as evidence of alleged treason. All that remains is me, a specter out for retribution.
I pick my way to a decrepit building I’ve claimed as a safehouse: three stories of leaning timber and crumbling bricks, deserted after some quake weakened its foundations. The interior is dank, stinking of mold, but it offers vantage points to watch the fortress’s southwestern flank. I head up the rickety stairs to a small room with a shattered window. My meager possessions rest in a corner: a bedroll, a locked trunk containing my spare daggers, potions from the Red Purna’s alchemists, and a single oil lamp. I light the lamp, letting its weak flame illuminate the peeling walls.
My thoughts churn with the memory of Selene’s fierce stance. I recall the spark in her eyes, how she refused to bow even in Orthani’s tightest grip. She’s strong, so strong it might border on reckless. That’s a risk I’ll have to manage. But it’s also an asset. My lips curve in a humorless smile. Vaelith and Zareth must be circling her like vultures, each wanting to control her magic. Let them try. If Selene truly stands unbroken, she might carve them up from within.
Sliding my cloak from my shoulders, I move to the trunk and retrieve a battered ledger. I flip through pages of coded notes—contacts, enemies, bribes, infiltration routes. I find the name of that archivist I recalled: Seran Lashiv. Last known to be working in Orthani’s library of runes. She might know how to remove or disrupt a purna’s runic restraints. I’ll have to approach hercarefully. If she refuses gold, there are other means to persuade her. She owes me a debt from the old days.
A wave of exhaustion sinks into my bones. The night’s infiltration took its toll, along with my constant vigilance. I set the ledger aside and rub my temples. My mind drifts to the flashback once more: the screams, the metallic tang of blood, my sister’s lifeless eyes. A slow burn of hatred anchors me, a reminder that Orthani’s downfall is nonnegotiable. With Selene’s help, I might expedite that cause.
I can’t stay still for long. If the guards intensify their patrols after my sabotage, I’ll need to relocate soon. But for a brief spell, I allow myself to lean against the wall, letting the lamp’s glow flicker across the floor. My heartbeat slows, yet the swirl of thoughts doesn’t ease. Selene’s expression haunts me, that mix of scorn and raw power. She saw me for what I am: a man with no illusions left, entangled in a war that leaves no room for innocence. Perhaps she recognized a mirror of her own betrayal.
Eventually, I rouse myself. Sleep is a risk here. I rummage in my trunk for a small sphere of chaos infusion—enough to jolt me awake if needed. I swallow a drop of it, coughing at the bitter tang. The energy surges in my veins, heightening my senses. Perfect. I slip onto a tattered armchair near the window, gazing out at Orthani’s starlit skyline. The labyrinth of towers stands silent, but behind that stillness, I sense the city’s roiling secrets.
