Smoke still hung in the rebel camp, sharp and bitter. The scent of broken wood and scorched fabric clung to the night air.

  The Dustguard had returned. This time in force.

  They came in a phalanx — not stealthy, not quiet. Dozens marched straight to the entrance of the safehouse, red-glass visors glowing under the moonlight. Torches in hand. Orders firm.

  “Take them alive if you must,” barked the commander. “The girl is priority. The rest are expendable.”

  From inside the alley behind the house, five hooded figures bolted.

  The Dustguard shouted and surged forward.

  The chase thundered into the lower slums — twisting through carts and canvas-covered alleys. Civilians ducked. Shops shuttered. The hooded figures turned down a dead-end passage.

  They spun — encircled.

  “Nowhere left to run,” one guard sneered.

  Then all five hooded bodies began to flicker.

  A hum pulsed through the air. A ripple of silver magic twisted and bent light.

  Zeven’s illusion cracked.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  The guards watched as the images bled smoke — and vanished.

  Standing where one illusion collapsed was Zeven himself, arms raised and grinning as more guards surrounded him.

  “Well,” he said. “Didn’t expect it to last forever.”

  He dropped his dagger to the ground, letting it clatter.

  “Where are the others?!” the Dustguard barked.

  Zeven winked.

  “Might want to check the palace.”

  ?

  Time Passed: One Hour Later

  Location: Inner Ward Streets

  Rell moved fast, holding Lirah in both arms. Neyxa and Thessia flanked him, blades drawn, eyes darting.

  “They’ll follow,” Neyxa muttered.

  “Let them,” Thessia said. “We’re almost there.”

  Ahead, the high white walls of the palace rose from the stone.

  “The King,” Rell said. “End it… there.”

  “If we’re caught, they’ll call it invasion,” Neyxa warned.

  “Then we ghosts,” Rell growled. “No nation. Just us.”

  ?

  Time Passed: 20 Minutes Later

  Location: Royal Correction Hall – Upper Plaza

  They reached the royal corridor. Strange silence sat over the grand hall. Lirah stirred in Rell’s arms. He gently set her down.

  Her breath hitched.

  Her body trembled.

  Then — a scream.

  Magic burst outward in a wave of grief. Her memories spilled out — flashes of cloaked captors, metal cuffs, stone walls.

  She collapsed, sobbing.

  “I was a number… not a name…”

  Rell dropped beside her.

  “No. You Lirah. You safe. You matter.”

  She nodded slowly — but froze.

  “They’re still here…”

  A tremor shook the palace walls.

  ?

  Time Passed: Same Moment

  Location: Royal Keep Interrogation Chambers

  Zeven hung from mana-chains, bloodied and weak. A man entered — white-gold robes dragging silence with each step.

  Vaerid Soluun – Grand Advisor of Alzharan

  ? Sight: Silver hair braided with royal cords, framing hollow stone-gray eyes.

  ? Sound: A calm, coiled voice, like a whisper that crawled up your spine.

  ? Smell: Burnt parchment and bitter cinnamon — the perfume of inked deals and erased lives.

  ? Touch (Implied): The chill he left in the room was not magic. It was calculation.

  ? Taste (Metaphor): Bitter regret — like spoiled honey laced with poison, but only after it’s too late.

  “You know,” Vaerid said, stepping close, “when I first found your sister… she begged so sweetly. That kind of desperation? Delicious.”

  Zeven’s teeth clenched.

  “You—You’re the one.”

  “The King signed the decree,” Vaerid shrugged. “I simply advised. It’s in the job title.”

  “You’ll pay,” Zeven growled.

  “No,” Vaerid said, “you’ll serve.”

  An ancient enchantment ignited behind Vaerid’s head. The glowing spell etched itself into Zeven’s mind like flame carving bone.

  And Zeven screamed.

  Chapter End.