Their footsteps hammered the ground, urgency propelling them forward. Kale led the way, his focus unshakable, eyes searching the horizon for any sign of the Bastion of the Scarlet Veil. Liliana floated at his side, her usual calm replaced by a palpable drive to reach their destination.

  Behind them, Rika kept pace, her warhammers bouncing against her back with every step. Her breaths came steady and controlled as the group pushed onward.

  The road ahead felt long, but none of them slowed. Time was slipping away, each second bringing them closer to whatever awaited at the Bastion—and whatever destruction Alistair might unleash before they could stop him. They had to get there in time.

  As the walls of the Bastion came into view, their panic only increased. They expected to see signs of destruction, some kind of battle, or worse. But as they approached, everything seemed quiet. Too quiet. Guards stood at their posts. The massive gates were unscathed. The sun shone gently on the stone walls as if nothing were amiss.

  “This... doesn’t look like a place under attack,” Rika said.

  Kale’s eyes darted around, suspicious. “No, but something’s wrong. There’s no way we misjudged this.”

  Liliana rushed ahead, zooming toward the entrance. The others followed her inside, their footsteps echoing in the wide halls of the Bastion.

  “We need to find him,” Liliana muttered, voice filled with worry. She didn’t wait for their replies as she frantically shot through the halls. Her panic increased as she neared the main chamber, where her mother often resided.

  Liliana burst into the room. “Mother! Where’s Father?” she demanded.

  Her mother, Lady Elara, looked up in confusion from where she was seated by a table full of scrolls, her delicate features knitting together in concern. “Liliana? What’s going on? Your father isn’t here.”

  Liliana’s heart dropped. “What do you mean he’s not here?”

  “He left earlier, but—” Her mother’s expression grew worried, seeing the panic on her daughter’s face. “Liliana, what’s wrong? What’s going on?”

  Kale and Rika entered the room just as Liliana spoke again, her voice shaking. “Where did he go?”

  Lady Elara hesitated, her brow furrowing in confusion. “He’s at the temple... Valtharion’s temple.”

  “What? Why?”

  “To pray for you,” her mother said, stepping forward, her worry intensifying. “He’s been so worried about you, Liliana. He’s gone to pray for Valtharion to protect you, to help you in the battles to come.”

  “No... no, Mother, you don’t understand. He’s in danger.”

  Lady Elara’s face paled. “Danger?”

  Liliana looked at Kale and Rika, her panic rising. “Alistair... Alistair is going to kill him.”

  Liliana's mother stepped forward, still trying to grasp the urgency in her daughter's voice. “But... Alistair? He’s far too weak to be a danger to your father, Liliana. He may be ruthless, but your father is far stronger, there’s no need to panic.”

  Liliana shook her head. “Mother, you don’t understand. He’s not the same anymore.”

  “He’s got Lifedrinker,” Kale said.

  Lady Elara froze. “Lifedrinker? That cursed blade...”

  Liliana nodded, her panic barely contained. “Alistair’s made a deal with Xeroth. He’s more powerful than you think, and Lifedrinker... it can kill Father. It can kill anyone.”

  Elara took a shaky step backward, the gravity of the situation sinking in. “Oh, gods...”

  Liliana clenched her jaw, trembling with fear and frustration. “He went to Valtharion’s temple to pray for me, but Alistair will use that opportunity to strike. He won’t hesitate.”

  “We have to go, now!” Rika urged.

  Kale nodded. “We’ve wasted too much time already.”

  Lady Elara’s lips trembled as she tried to process everything. “Go,” she whispered. “Go save him.”

  ***

  The temple rose ahead, an imposing structure of stone and deep shadows commanding the skyline. No one noticed as they hurried inside—no alarms, no panic. Just the quiet hum of an ordinary day. Too ordinary.

  Liliana glided ahead of Kale and Rika as they pushed through the doors of Valtharion’s temple. The air inside carried the sharp tang of old blood, an unsettling reminder of who this temple was dedicated to. Statues of the blood god lined the walls.

  “Father!” Liliana’s voice echoed through the temple. Desperation. Fear. It was all starting to feel too late.

  There, by the altar, knelt her father. His armor lying forgotten beside him as he bowed before the massive stone visage of Valtharion. A prayer? Now?

  “Father!” Liliana surged forward, panic clear in every word. “What are you doing here? You have to leave, now!”

  Her father turned slowly, calm, as if he had all the time in the world. His eyes settled on her. “Liliana... what’s wrong?”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “What’s wrong? Alistair is coming here! He’s going to kill you!”

  He raised an eyebrow, standing up slowly. “Alistair? He’s no match for—”

  Kale cut in. “He’s got Lifedrinker.”

  Her father’s face darkened, the calm slipping just a little. “Lifedrinker,” he said, running a hand over his jaw. “How did that vermin...”

  “Yeah,” Kale said. “He’s not the same man you knew. He made a deal with Xeroth. He’ll come here, and if he finds you...”

  Her father nodded, but there was no fear in his eyes. “He won’t find me.”

  “We need to go,” Liliana said. “Now. If he finds you—”

  Her father’s hand rose, slow and firm, silencing her. “Liliana, I came here to pray for you. For Valtharion’s guidance in the battle ahead.”

  Liliana shook her head, eyes wide. “What? You’re going to die—”

  He looked at her, eyes sharp. “I’m not leaving this temple.”

  Kale stepped forward, frustration boiling just beneath his skin. “You’re going to die if you stay here. We have to—”

  The doors groaned behind them, a slow, deliberate creak that sent a cold shiver down Kale’s spine.

  Liliana’s heart stopped.

  Her father didn’t move.

  Kale turned, hand on Mistress, eyes fixed on the entrance.

  Alistair walked in with a casual arrogance, his dark robes trailing behind him, their soft rustle the only sound in the chamber. Resting against his shoulder was Lifedrinker. The sword was unmistakable. Dark, jagged, its edges almost pulsing with a faint, malevolent glow. Even at a glance, it looked like it could suck the very life from you with a single cut—no mistaking why it was called Lifedrinker.

  Alistair’s smile was slow and cruel as he stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over them with the ease of a man who already saw the pieces falling into place. “Well, well, well,” he drawled. “What do we have here? A nice little family reunion. Fitting, I suppose.”

  Liliana tensed. Her father was still standing, but Alistair’s presence, with that cursed blade, made everything feel fragile. As if one wrong move could shatter the world around them.

  Rika’s fingers twitched toward her warhammer, but Kale shot her a warning glance. Alistair was dangerous enough on his own. With Lifedrinker? No one could afford a rash decision.

  Alistair’s grin widened as he took in the sight before him, eyes full of malice, Lifedrinker still resting lazily on his shoulder, the blade glinting in the torchlight like it was hungry for blood. “I didn’t expect I’d get this lucky. Two members of the Scarlet Veil clan at the same time. And with the same blade that did your dear sister in.”

  Liliana froze. “What?”

  Alistair’s chuckle echoed through the temple, sharp and mocking. “Oh yes. It was my father who killed your sister, little Emeria of the Scarlet Veil. I thought you knew.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I wouldn’t waste my breath on a lie like that,” Alistair sneered, stepping closer, the cold edge of his laughter still clinging to his words. “It was glorious, really. Poor Emeria, didn’t even see it coming. Cut her down just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “He probably would’ve gotten to all you filthy mongrels if it hadn’t been for that... that fucking bladeweaver, Serassa.”

  Kale’s stomach twisted. His hand still hovered over the hilt of Mistress. Think of something, Kale, do something, anything. His mind was racing, but every thought was drowned out by the presence of Lifedrinker and Alistair’s voice, growing louder, more venomous. Move, damn it.

  Liliana’s breath came in shallow bursts, her eyes wide with fury and disbelief. “Emeria? She’s? You’re lying. No… You’re a monster.”

  Alistair’s shrug was casual, almost dismissive. “Monster, hero, it’s all about perspective, isn’t it?”

  The sound of footsteps echoed from the entrance. Then more from the side and the back. Kale’s eyes flicked to the sides—assassins. Clad in the black and crimson of House Bloodthorn, their blades drawn, moving like shadows. They appeared from everywhere. Stepping through the doors, creeping in from side passages, standing on the balconies overhead, watching, waiting.

  They were surrounded.

  Alistair let out a low chuckle, tapping the flat of Lifedrinker against his shoulder as if it were a harmless toy. “You didn’t think I came alone, did you? No, this is a family matter, after all.”

  His eyes settled back on Liliana. “Imagine my joy when I got the chance not only to reclaim my family’s heirloom, but also to teach that bitch Serassa a lesson. You should’ve seen her when I walked into that temple... the moment she realized what was coming for her.” His laugh was shrill and uneven, a sound that burrowed into their ears like an insect’s relentless buzz.

  Kale’s heart pounded in his chest. Think of something. Anything.

  But his mind was blank, and the Bloodthorn assassins closed in, tightening the noose.

  Liliana’s father stepped forward, calm and deliberate. The chaos of the moment, the assassins, the presence of Lifedrinker, all of it seemed to wash over him like a passing breeze. His eyes swept the room, taking in the assassins lurking in the shadows, perched on balconies, and slinking closer from every side. A small smile curled at the corner of his lips, and when he spoke, his voice was steady, clear.

  “Well, well,” he began, his tone light, almost conversational. “Alistair Bloodthorn. Your father’s disappointment made flesh.”

  He shook his head. “I’m almost surprised you found the courage to walk through these doors. Almost.”

  He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. “But don’t mistake stupidity for bravery. The two are often confused by those too foolish to know the difference.”

  Alistair’s face tightened, the muscles in his jaw clenching, but the Lord of the Scarlet Veil continued.

  “I suppose you’ve come here with grand ideas of vengeance. Reclaiming a sword that was never yours to begin with? Proving yourself worthy of the Bloodthorn name?” He glanced around the room at the growing number of assassins, a dismissive wave of his hand following. “And what did you bring to this challenge? A handful of petty killers, hiding in the shadows like vermin scurrying about in the dirt.”

  The assassins bristled, some visibly tense, but the Lord didn’t even acknowledge them. He took a slow step forward, eyes locked on Alistair’s.

  “You think this display intimidates me? That I’d shudder at the sight of House Bloodthorn’s finest?” His laugh was soft, almost amused. “Let me tell you something, Alistair—if I wanted to, I could have crushed your family beneath my boot long ago. I allow you to exist. You cling to power like maggots to rotting flesh, and you breathe today only because I’ve deemed you too insignificant to bother with.”

  Alistair’s face twisted, but just as he was about to speak, Liliana’s father raised a hand. “No, no, let me finish. You’ve clearly been waiting for this moment. But even if you’d brought every single member of House Bloodthorn into this temple, it still wouldn’t be enough. You think you’re here to reclaim honor, but all you’ve done is parade your family’s weakness for the world to see. Weak, pathetic insects, grasping for meaning. And now you’ve come crawling, hoping that this,” he gestured dismissively at Lifedrinker, “will make up for centuries of failure. It won’t.”

  He smiled, a cruel glint in his eye. “Because I will break you. Just as I would’ve broken your father if he’d ever had the spine to face me. But no, he was always just a pitiful little man, wasn’t he? And now, here you are—his son, clinging to the same delusions of grandeur. Tell me, Alistair, do you think wearing his shame makes you a king?”

  Alistair’s sneer deepened. “You talk a lot for a man about to die.”

  The Lord tilted his head slightly, almost pitying. “Death? Oh, Alistair, you flatter yourself. You think that blade makes you my equal? Lifedrinker is wasted in your hands—an unearned power wielded by an unremarkable fool. You’re no reaper, no executioner. You’re a desperate little boy clutching at borrowed strength, trying to fill the void where your courage should be.”

  The Bloodthorn assassins edged closer, but Liliana’s father stood firm, utterly unshaken.

  “Your house is weak, your blood is thin, and your ambitions will drown in the filth you’ve made for yourselves.” He took a slow breath, his eyes hard. “And now, because of you, your house will end.”