As Severin stepped outside, he became momentarily disoriented by the sunlight, unused to its brightness. But gradually, he readjusted. The crisp air filled his lungs and emptied his head, allowing for him recall matters more clearly.
Six days and seven nights--that was last since he’s seen her. For six days and seven nights, the bastard had kept Aaliyah locked in this forsaken tower, to be used as some plaything.
His fingers clenched onto the stone balcony as his heart thundered in his chest. He wanted to scream. He wanted to hurt.
From the eastern horizon, the morning sun peaked through the mountainside, marking the rise of dawn. Its golden rays seeped through the azure sky, radiant and blinding. But he knew that well before sundown, the earth would be stained red with blood. His inner demons would be quelled no other way. For her, he would gladly walk through the very chasms of Hell to bring the bastard to justice.
Cadeon.
After she was dressed, Severin stepped back inside the chamber, more incensed than he had ever been before. His blackened expression, set upon such a disfigured face, would have horrified her were she able to see him then. Despite the turmoil raging within him, he forced himself to calm before speaking. She had experienced enough, without needing to witness his wrath.
“Where is he?” Severin asked between clenched teeth.
The man he was going to kill--the vermin who would be fed his own entrails, to die a humiliating and painful death.
Each night as he slept on the cold, dark floor of the dungeon, he had dreamt of doing so. And every night, he would kill the bastard thrice over. The general would make him pay dearly for harming her.
At his question, she flinched, “I... I do not know,” Aaliyah quietly answered with her eyes downcast, unable face to him.
“Are you well enough to walk?” he asked. She nodded in response. “Then leave with Liandra. I am staying back here to find him.”
“This is our only chance of escape. Will you throw away your life just after I have given it back to you?” the woman asked.
He knew of the consequences. It was now or never.
But perhaps it would be a fitting end were he to die here--an Ebon stronghold--the very place which had once given him a sense of purpose, his meaning in life. His reason for existence. None which mattered now.
“The man who did this to her must pay with his life,” Severin answered with a fixed resolve. Justice--or vengeance--the result is one and the same, despite the reason, despite the cause.
“For that he will,” Liandra agreed, “But another day. Right now, the princess’s safety is paramount. You swore to help her. A corpse is of no use to us. Do not make me regret my decision for releasing you.”
“Malik,” Aaliyah called his name as she turned around, clumsily reaching for him in desperation.
At her beckoning, he immediately went to her side. “I’m here,” he repeated again to reassure her.
Her hands clutched onto the front of his shirt, as if he were the lifeline to which she held. “I was so afraid. Please do not leave me again,” she pleaded with tear-stained eyes, which were swollen from crying.
“I won’t,” Severin promised as he carefully wiped away her tears. Even as his calloused hands brushed against her skin, he feared of hurting her. His chest ached with sorrow as he looked down upon Aaliyah. If only he could take away her pain. If only he could take away her fear.
“You are coming with us, then?” she asked.
“Yes,” he answered. “I will see you freed from this place, no matter the cost. That, I swear to you. I will never let anyone hurt you again. Do you believe me, ishta?”
She nodded at his words, trying to grace him with a smile despite all that has happened.
“We need to leave now, before the others get here,” Liandra said from behind. She was regarding him with the same disdainful look from before, her expression wary and pensive.
He knew that she disapproved of the way her mistress held onto him for comfort, but said nothing more of the matter. Earlier he had deduced that she was servant to the Asharan royals, although much still remained unclear. “Can you trust her?” Severin ushered in a low voice.
“Without a doubt,” Aaliyah assured.
“Then so will I.” he replied. But only for the time being.
With haste, they descended the stairs and made their way to the bridge.
“Stay behind me,” Severin ordered. Then, his sword sang free of its sheath as he drew it.
There had once been a time where he fought alongside them as brothers.
But now, he stood at the opposite end of their blades, as an enemy and traitor.
Once, he had fought for duty. Once, he had fought for glory.
At long last, he knew what it meant to fight for love’s sake. Therein lies the difference--what separated him from the others, who had nothing to gain. But Severin understood that he must prevail, or he would forever lose her.
In an instant, their blades flickered and clashed in patterns too complex for the eye to follow. Carefully they maneuvered around each other on the narrow bridge, in a series of intricate steps too numerous to count. All the while, they switched through form after form--the fighting stances which have been drilled into them since childhood. Despite the passing years, some things never change. The memories still remained embedded in his mind, within the darkest corner of his soul. He knew their movements, and their weaknesses in turn.
Outside the halls of the Sanctuary, where killers were trained and taught, no one living has seen an Ebon assassin fight in combat. Those who were unfortunate enough to have witnessed such a sight never lived to tell the tale.
Throughout the eastern lands, his name was spoken with scorn and hatred. The Harbinger of Death, they called him. Indeed, it would not be stretching the truth to say that Ares himself guided Severin’s hand that day, as it was impossible for a single man to succeed against such odds.
Yet, Severin did.
Where his sword swept, only death followed. And all who stood before him fell to his blade.
When the last of the men had died, the general nearly collapsed from exhaustion, were it not for the stone pillar that supported him. His sides were covered in cuts, and his shirt stained with crimson. Every muscle in his body ached, his bones still trembling. “I’m still alive,” he croaked to himself, disbelieving the very fact. Severin might’ve laughed, were he not in so much pain.
“This way,” Liandra shouted.
She led them through a corridor, then to what appeared to be a dead end. Her hands hovered across the stone in search of something. As she tugged on a loose rock, the wall had shifted, revealing a tunnel behind.
“How would an Asharan woman know of a secret passage to this place?” Severin asked. The Ebon Hand was known for stealth. No outsider had ever stepped foot within its fortress and lived long enough to see another day.
“I had accidentally discovered it while looking for a way in,” she replied.
It was dubious answer, but now was not the time for questions. He would see Aaliyah to safety first. The woman, Liandra, he would interrogate afterwards. And if the general found her answers to be unsatisfactory, then she would die like the others.
Severin walked some paces behind her, maintaining a distance while keeping Aaliyah within his sight. All the while, his hand remained on the sword hilt, alert and ready should anything happen.
In complete silence, they continued through the winding tunnels, which consisted only of stone and eternal darkness. Cobwebs hung from every corner of the ceiling, with no indication of human disturbance. The pathway seemed to have stretched on for miles, until at last Severin could spy a light in far distance.
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