Fallon
The night air was sharp, slicing through my cloak as I moved through the narrow corridors of the abandoned outpost. The faint glow of lanterns flickered against the stone walls, casting long, shifting shadows. The scent of damp earth and old blood lingeredâremnants of a battle long since fought and forgotten. But we weren't here for ghosts.
We were close. Too close for comfort. Every step brought us closer to unraveling the tangled web of treachery that wove its way through the heart of Ithrador. The assassination attempt had been meticulously planned, and whoever was behind it wasn't working alone. Someone wanted chaos, and they were willing to spill royal blood to get it.
I glanced at Fallon. She was a few steps ahead, her movements sharp and deliberate. Her golden hair, even in the dim light, gleamed like a blade poised to strike. She had changed since we started this missionâmore focused, more relentless. She had always been stubborn, but now she was something more. I hated to admit it, but she was proving herself in ways I hadn't expected.
That didn't mean I'd go easy on her.
Aela signaled from the archway up ahead, her dark eyes narrowed in warning. I tensed immediately, hand tightening around the hilt of my sword. Fallon froze beside me, her breathing controlled but quick.
"Three inside," Aela whispered. "Armed. Talking about a delivery. Something being moved in the next two days."
A delivery. That could mean anythingâsupplies, weapons, or something worse. Fallon shot me a look, her blue eyes glinting with determination. She wanted to go in. I could already see the decision in her face before she spoke.
"We need to take them now," she murmured. "If they're the ones moving supplies for the assassin, we can't risk letting them slip away."
I exhaled slowly. She wasn't wrong, but she also wasn't thinking about the risk. Three enemies inside, more possibly nearby. The smart move was to wait, gather more information. But we were running out of time.
"Fine," I muttered. "But we do this my way."
Fallon looked like she wanted to argue, but she didn't. That was progress, at least.
I signaled to Aela, and she nodded, slipping back into the shadows. Fallon and I moved into position, pressing ourselves against the cold stone. The voices inside grew clearer, low and guttural.
"...out of here by first light. If the package isn't moved, we're dead men."
"Don't see why it's our problem. The higher-ups should handle it."
"Because they want their hands clean. We do the dirty work."
I met Fallon's gaze and motioned for her to move in first. She hesitated for only a fraction of a second before slipping through the doorway, silent as a wraith. I followed, blade drawn. The moment the first man turned, his eyes widening, Fallon struck, her dagger slicing clean across his throat. He collapsed without a sound.
The other two lunged for their weapons. I took the nearest one, driving my sword through his gut before he could even cry out. The last man scrambled back, eyes darting toward the exit, but Fallon was faster. She slammed him against the wall, her forearm pressing hard against his throat.
"Where is the package being moved?" she demanded.
The man gasped, struggling, but Fallon didn't loosen her grip. I stepped closer, my blade resting against his ribs. "You have one chance to answer," I said coldly. "Don't waste it."
He wheezed, eyes darting between us. "South. To the border," he croaked. "By dawn."
Fallon's grip tightened. "What's in the package?"
He hesitated. I pressed my blade harder. "Poison," he coughed. "Enough to kill a king."
A beat of silence. Fallon's breath hitched, and my stomach twisted.
The assassin wasn't just coming for one man. They were planning something bigger. Something catastrophic.
I met Fallon's gaze, and for the first time since we started this mission, there was no defiance in her eyes. No challenge. Just understanding.
We had to stop this. And we had little time left.