The night was silent.
Too silent.
Aryan's Vanara stood frozen, ears sharp, gaze locked on the treeline. Vaidehi slowly drew the fan-blades hidden within her robes. The faint hum of bound wind stirred around her.
"Someone's watching us," she whispered.
Aryan nodded. "Behind the east fence."
They moved without a word. Their footsteps barely made a sound on the grass. The fog had thickened near the edge of the camp—dense, curling low like a snake slithering across the ground.
Then a soft thud.
A guard near the perimeter slumped over, unconscious.
Not dead—but marked. A faint red glyph shimmered on his neck, like a twisted beastbinder spiral.
Aryan's grip tightened on his sword. "We're dealing with a shadowbrand."
"A what?"
"An assassin trained to use binding marks to numb minds. They don't fight. They erase."
Suddenly, a glint in the mist.
Aryan ducked.
A dagger zipped past his head and sank into a tree.
Vaidehi spun toward the movement and unleashed a gust of wind. The fog cleared in a spiral, revealing a cloaked figure crouched on a branch, mask glowing with runes.
Their beast wasn't visible—but Aryan could sense it.
Hidden.
Waiting.
The figure dropped down and landed between them. Silent. Precise. Deadly.
Aryan stepped forward. "Who sent you?"
The assassin tilted their head, then whispered one word:
"Ashborn."
Vaidehi's eyes widened. "They've already reached this deep?"
The assassin lunged.
Aryan parried fast, sparks flying from the clash of steel and rune. The masked figure moved like smoke, blades flashing in silence. Aryan countered each one, his Vanara snarling behind him.
But something was wrong.
His movements felt… slow.
His vision blurred.
"Poison…" Aryan murmured. "They… marked me—"
The assassin's blade went for his throat.
And Vaidehi stepped in, her fan slicing across the air. Wind exploded outward, knocking the assassin back. Aryan stumbled to one knee, gasping.
Vaidehi's crane, Laksha, soared overhead, feathers glowing with sky-runes. It dove and clipped the assassin's mask, cracking it open.
The figure hissed and vanished in a swirl of fog—but not before dropping a small, black scroll.
Aryan crawled forward and picked it up. It was warm. Alive, almost.
Devran rushed in seconds later, panting. "What happened?!"
"We were attacked," Vaidehi said. "Shadowbrand. From the Ashborn."
Aryan handed Devran the scroll. "Figure out what this says. Fast."
Devran's eyes scanned it, face going pale.
"This isn't just a message," he said. "It's a target list."
Aryan leaned closer. "Who's on it?"
Devran looked at him grimly.
"You. Kiva. Vaidehi. Bhairav. And one more name I don't recognize…"
He turned the scroll around.
"General Adira."
Aryan froze.
That was his mother's name.
The mother he'd been told died when he was five.