POV: Palace Guard Commander – Commander Eron
The west wing was dead silent.
Not the peaceful kind—this was the eerie, suffocating silence that made even your own breathing sound like thunder. My men flanked me on both sides, boots crunching against marble as we passed a shattered glass panel—small, precise, like someone had cut their way through without alerting the outside watch.
I clenched my jaw. This wasn't just an intruder. This was someone trained. Someone who knew how to bypass our codes.
My comm-link buzzed.
"Status?" It was Chris himself. Cold. Commanding. Like a god expecting a swift answer.
"We're closing in on the west hallway," I replied. "The saboteur seems to be headed toward the archives wing—or possibly the inner tech chamber."
Pause. Then his voice again. "Tech chamber? That's one floor below the heir vault. You know what's stored there."
I cursed under my breath. "Understood. My team will intercept. Dead or alive?"
Another pause.
"Alive," he said finally. "I want answers."
I signaled two men ahead. They moved like shadows—silent, lethal.
As we turned the corner, a faint flicker of movement zipped past the hall like a ghost.
"There!" someone hissed.
I bolted.
Feet pounding, adrenaline pulsing, I lunged into the dark corridor and tackled a cloaked figure just as they tried to vault a railing.
"Got you!" I roared, pinning the figure hard against the wall.
The hood fell back—and I froze.
It wasn't a man.
It was a girl.
Young. Maybe 16 or 17. Pale. Sharp-eyed. Wearing a patch with a crest I hadn't seen in years—an old sigil of the Blackwood Rebellion, thought to be dead and buried.
The girl snarled. "You're too late. The truth is coming. You can't cage the fire forever."
My blood ran cold.
We'd been infiltrated not by mercenaries… but by legacy.
A new rebellion was stirring.
TO BE CONTINUED...