Kalen didn’t sleep.

  The inn Hassim gave them was too soft, too polished. Silk curtains, cushioned chairs, incense curling in the corners — it all felt like a lie. A cage lined with velvet.

  He stood at the window instead, watching the city of Ashara pulse in the night. Fires burned in alleys where chained humans were herded like cattle. Bone-masked priests chanted from balconies, their voices drowning the screams of slaves. And on the walls, runes glowed faintly — not protective, but binding. Everything here reeked of death pretending to be order.

  Behind him, Adonis slept easily. Calm. Like the weight of the desert itself carried him instead of pressing him down.

  Kalen’s fingers flexed, and an arrow of pure void shimmered into existence between them. He no longer needed a bow. The arrows came when he willed it, black shafts that hummed with the power to pierce wards, to shatter flesh and spirit alike. A gift from Adonis.

  And that was the truth: he trusted Adonis now. The man had proven himself again and again — against corrupted beasts, against Dragon patrols, against every challenge the desert threw at him. He had built walls where there were none, given water where the wells ran dry, taught even Barek to breathe like a warrior reborn.

  Adonis wasn’t the problem.

  The problem was whether even he was enough.

  Kalen clenched his jaw. Vampires had slaughtered their parents. The memory burned in his chest like coal. No matter how far they’d come, he feared Adonis might not be strong enough when the time came — that his smirks, his riddles, his impossible will wouldn’t be enough against nobles who had ruled for centuries.

  And if Adonis wasn’t enough… neither were they.

  A faint knock at the door. Selene’s voice. “Kalen?”

  He opened it, and she stepped in, her white locs braided down her back, her pale-grey eyes searching his face.

  “You’re not sleeping.”

  “Neither are you,” he said.

  She joined him at the window. Together they looked out over the city, the faint glow catching her tan skin, the frost that clung to her sleeves like a second aura.

  “This place feels wrong,” she murmured.

  “It is wrong,” Kalen said, his voice low. “And we’re walking deeper into it.”

  Her gaze flicked to Adonis, still asleep. “Do you trust him?”

  Kalen hesitated only a moment. Then he nodded. “I do.”

  “Then what worries you?”

  He gripped the windowsill tighter. “That he’s in over his head. That when the time comes, he won’t be strong enough to face them. To face them.”

  Selene was quiet, but her hand brushed his briefly — a reminder, a tether.

  Kalen’s eyes narrowed at the city below. “If Adonis falls short… then I’ll make sure the Vampires pay myself. But Ancients help me, I hope he doesn’t.”

  The void flickered faintly around his hand, eager, hungry.

  ***

  Kalen stayed by the window even after Selene had gone back to her room. The city still pulsed below like a wound that wouldn’t close. He barely noticed the soft sound behind him until a voice spoke.

  “You’re thinking too loud.”

  Kalen turned sharply. Adonis sat up in bed, golden flecks dimmed in his eyes, his dark skin catching only a sliver of lanternlight. He looked almost casual, but his tone carried weight.

  “You don’t sleep either?” Kalen asked.

  “I sleep when I want to,” Adonis replied. “Tonight, I wanted to listen.”

  Kalen bristled. “Then you heard me.”

  “I did.” Adonis swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching lazily before crossing the room. He stopped a step away, studying Kalen like he was measuring him. “You’re worried I won’t be enough.”

  Kalen didn’t deny it. His throat tightened. “The Vampires… they’re not beasts in the sand. They killed our parents like it meant nothing. What if even you can’t—”

  Adonis raised a hand, two fingers brushing Kalen’s brow.

  A ripple of psionic energy flowed, not crushing or burning but soft, vast, endless. In an instant, Kalen wasn’t standing in the inn anymore. He was standing in a desert without end, dunes rising like oceans, a sky burning gold.

  And before him, a shape towered. A lion-bodied titan with the head of a falcon, skin like carved obsidian, eyes burning suns. The presence pressed against his bones — ancient, infinite, judgment incarnate.

  Then it was gone.

  Adonis stood before him again, smirking faintly. “That’s what I am.”

  Kalen staggered a step back, breath caught in his throat. His fists trembled — not in fear, but in awe.

  Adonis placed a hand on his shoulder. His voice was steady, ancient. “You follow me, Kalen, and you will be one of the strongest humans in existence. Your void will not fade. It will sharpen. You will stand where others kneel.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Kalen swallowed hard. His voice came out almost hoarse. “Stronger than the Champions?”

  Adonis’s brow arched. “The what?”

  Before Kalen could answer, a soft knock rapped at the door. Selene’s voice carried through, calm but urgent.

  “Breakfast is ready. Hassim’s waiting.”

  Adonis’s smirk lingered as he stepped back. “We’ll finish this conversation later.”

  Kalen nodded slowly, his chest still heaving, his mind replaying the vision over and over.

  For the first time since their parents’ death, he believed — not just in his vengeance, but in the path that would carry him there.

  ***

  The three of them walked the length of the inn’s corridor together, soft carpets swallowing their steps. Selene had braided her white locs back neatly, frost no longer clinging to her skin but simmering beneath the surface. Kalen looked sharper than usual, his eyes still carrying a faint glow from the void he’d conjured in the night.

  Adonis watched them out of the corner of his eye. Two desert-born twins wearing armor that looked more suited to the entourage of a noble than villagers from a forgotten well. He almost laughed at the picture.

  “You know,” Adonis said dryly, “the way you two walk side by side, people are going to think you’re my bodyguards.”

  Selene’s lips curved faintly. “Would that be so bad?”

  “Depends on who pays the bill,” Adonis quipped.

  Kalen snorted. “ I am your body guard. I saved your butt from the get Scorpion King.”

  Adonis shot him a look. “Barely ”

  Selene laughed softly, shaking her head. For a moment the tension lifted, the three of them slipping into an ease that felt dangerously close to family. But as the doors ahead opened and the smell of roasted lamb and spiced bread drifted out, their faces shifted. The smiles faded. Jokes tucked themselves away. They walked into the chamber like warriors, every step deliberate.

  Hassim was waiting. He sat at the head of a long table, his white-and-gold turban bright against the dark wood. Platters of food lined the surface, untouched, steam curling into the air. His dark eyes flicked up as they entered, and for a heartbeat his merchant’s smile looked more like the grin of a predator who had finally found worthy partners.

  ***

  Adonis took his seat without hesitation, but his thoughts moved elsewhere.

  Vantage. How long before I can bring them into my mindscape?

  The ASI’s reply came sharp and clinical in his skull.

  > Psionic Particle readings: Kalen—17,400. Selene—16,900. Threshold for entry: 20,000. At current growth rate, estimate: two to three weeks.

  Adonis smirked faintly as he reached for a cup of wine. Two or three weeks, huh? Then it’s time to push them harder.

  He set the cup down and folded his hands, eyes locking on Hassim. The time for play was over.

  “Alright, merchant,” Adonis said, his voice even, commanding. “You said you had business for us.”

  Hassim’s smile widened.

  ***

  Hassim leaned back in his chair, the folds of his white-and-gold turban catching the lanternlight, his rings glittering as he steepled his fingers. The smile he wore wasn’t just warm—it was measured, deliberate.

  “I’ll be honest with you,” he began, his voice smooth as oiled silk. “I’ve met killers. I’ve met Magi. I’ve even met a few Mages who came crawling through this city in disguise. But you three…” His gaze swept across Adonis, then Selene, then Kalen. “You aren’t like the rest. You’re sharper. You’re heavier. Like the sand itself bends when you walk. I’d be a fool not to see it.”

  Selene didn’t blink. Kalen crossed his arms, lips pressed thin. Adonis only smirked faintly, letting the silence stretch before answering.

  “And what do you see, Hassim?”

  “I see potential,” Hassim said simply. “The kind that could shatter this city’s chains. My ambition is not to remain a merchant scurrying at the feet of the TriCouncil. I want Ashara for myself. And I believe you could help me take it.”

  Adonis didn’t flinch. He set down his wine, leaning forward slightly. “And what I need isn’t a city. It’s information.”

  The merchant’s brow arched.

  “There are whispers,” Adonis continued, his tone calm, almost casual. “An Azure Prince. Taken. Hidden somewhere in this kingdom. I need to know if it’s true—and where he is.”

  The turbaned merchant studied him carefully. His smile returned, slower this time. “Ambitious. You’re not chasing scraps, then. You’re chasing the kind of knowledge that tilts empires.”

  “You asked what I am,” Adonis said. “I’m someone who doesn’t move without knowing where to step.”

  For the first time, Hassim’s merchant’s mask cracked into something more human—respect. He inclined his head. “Then allow me to step for you. My network runs through markets, taverns, and guilds. Gold is a language that even the dead understand, and I speak it fluently. If the Prince is here, I will hear of it.”

  He spread his hands, rings gleaming. “I will spend what coin I must. Because if I aid you, you will aid me in turn. Your strength is the lever I need to pry this city from the Liches’ grip.”

  Adonis’s lips curved into that faint, unreadable smirk again. He didn’t agree. He didn’t need to. The understanding was already in the air, heavy as incense.

  Selene broke the silence, her voice cool as frost. “And if the TriCouncil learns you’re plotting against them?”

  Hassim’s grin widened, wolfish now. “Then I’ll already have you three at my side.”

  ***

  Hassim rose from the table with a flourish, his robes swaying, the white-and-gold turban catching the morning light. He reached into his sleeve and pulled free a small disk, etched with curling runes of trade and power. Its surface gleamed bronze, set with a single sapphire at the center.

  “My seal,” Hassim said, laying it flat on the table between them. “Any merchant, guard, or even council clerk in Ashara will recognize it. With this, you’re under my banner. No one will question you.”

  Adonis studied the disk before picking it up, feeling its weight. He flicked it once in the air, caught it, then slipped it into the folds of his cloak. “So we’re yours now?”

  Hassim smiled, a flash of white teeth beneath his beard. “No. You’re mine for now. And that’s enough.”

  ***

  He clapped his hands once. Servants hurried in with bundles of folded cloth, laying them neatly across the table. Fine tunics, black and crimson with silver threading, each cut loose enough to layer over armor. A noble’s attire, not a warrior’s.

  “You walk like blades,” Hassim said smoothly, “but blades are best hidden in sheaths. These will fit over your armor. With the right clothes and my seal, the city will see you as what I intend them to see: my trusted faction. My eyes, my fists, my knives in the market.”

  Kalen lifted a tunic, testing its weight. The embroidery caught the light in faint patterns, sharp and angular. “Feels like a costume.”

  “Every man in this city wears a mask,” Hassim replied, adjusting his turban with a practiced flourish. “Yours just happen to be sharper.”

  Selene pulled her own set of clothes over her frost-worn sleeves. The black fabric and silver embroidery softened her icy aura, making her look less like a threat and more like a noble’s retainer. She didn’t comment, but the faintest flicker of approval touched her pale-grey eyes.

  ***

  Once they had dressed, Hassim’s tone shifted, more business than banter.

  “Two tasks,” he said, counting them off on ringed fingers. “First, you will walk my vendors in the market this afternoon. Rivals will test you. Words, perhaps blades. Be seen, but not reckless. Let the city know that Hassim’s men are not easy prey.”

  His smile sharpened. “Tonight, you will guard me personally at the auction. Many will attend — rivals, allies, enemies. They must see you at my side, calm and unshaken, while coin and power change hands.”

  Adonis folded his arms, his dark skin gleaming faintly in the lamplight, his expression unreadable. “You want us visible.”

  “Exactly,” Hassim said. “Power in Ashara is not just seized. It is displayed. You three are my display.”

  Adonis smirked faintly. “Then let’s give them a show.”

  Hassim inclined his head, his turban gleaming as though it caught firelight. “Yes. A show that none of them will forget.”