The rain fell in lazy, crooked lines across the tavern's windows, blurring the lanternlight into trembling halos. Lera sat near the window, her legs curled beneath her, watching drops slither like silent ghosts. Curled in his blanket, Kael had been dozing, though one eye always seemed to flutter open at every creak.
Irin stood by the door, unmoving, the mark on his wrist faintly glowing beneath his sleeve. Something was wrong.
They had heard the horses first — too many for travelers. Then boots in the mud. The tension in the room thickened like smoke.
A knock never came.
Instead, they heard the creak of the front door. The soft shuffle of multiple steps on old floorboards. The murmurs between men who never expected resistance.
Inquisitors.
"They've stopped downstairs," Irin whispered. "They're checking room by room."
Kael was already sitting upright, alert. "We can't stay here."
Lera stood slowly. "How many?"
Irin's eyes narrowed. "At least five. Could be more."
He listened for another moment, then motioned to the small window on the side wall.
"Now. While they're distracted."
They eased toward the hallway. Irin led, Kael behind, and Lera last, her heart hammering in her chest.
But as they turned the corner, two Inquisitors rounded the far end of the hall — both tall, armored, and already reaching for their blades.
"Wait!" one shouted.
Irin didn't.
His hand ignited in a sudden arc of heat, the hallway filling with a blast of light and fire. The flames surged forward in a controlled stream, slamming into the two men and sending them crashing against the wooden walls, screaming.
The sound echoed.
From downstairs, someone roared: "They're here! First floor, now!"
Kael clenched his fists, eyes flicking to the stairwell.
"They'll box us in!"
"Then we go through them," Irin said.
Kael grabbed a broken chair leg and followed Irin down the narrow stairs. The hallway shook beneath the weight of boots from all directions.
Lera paused only a moment, looking back at the scorched hallway. She had done nothing. Again. Just stood.
"I'm slowing him down," she thought.
But there was no time to mourn that now.
Downstairs, the tavern had become a battlefield.
Fifteen Inquisitors waited in a semicircle, blades out, robes bearing the Eye Sigil blackened with old blood and fresh rain.
Irin landed at the bottom of the stairs with Kael right behind him. His wrist mark flared white. Heat pulsed outward, warping the air.
"Stand down!" one shouted. "You are surrounded!"
"I know," Irin said calmly. "You should have brought more."
He raised his hand.
Fire erupted.
But the Inquisitors were prepared. Two raised shields layered with magical runes, absorbing the first burst. Others scattered, flanking with trained speed. Kael swung the chair leg into the knee of one man who got too close, then ducked a blade meant for his neck.
Sparks danced. Glass shattered. The tavern's wooden beams groaned under the force.
Irin moved like a storm — not just attacking, but guiding. Walls of flame shielded Kael. Bolts of white-hot fire darted toward enemy hands, breaking formations.
Lera stayed behind, her back pressed to the stairs, hands shaking.
Then — a shadow fell across the doorway.
A new figure stepped inside.
He didn't run. He didn't even draw a weapon. His cloak bore the Inquisitor's eye, but edged in deep crimson — a rank higher than any of those fighting.
He raised a single hand.
"Enough."
The Inquisitors froze. Even Irin, chest heaving, paused, flames still dancing on his fingers.
A half-mask of dark metal hid the man's face. Only his voice carried — deep, commanding, without need for shouting.
"You'll stop killing my men now," he said to Irin.
Kael moved protectively closer to Lera. She stared at the newcomer, dread curling in her stomach.
"Who are you?" Irin asked, hand still raised.
The man stepped closer, unshaken by the heat.
"I am High Inquisitor Dareth. Acting under direct command of Commander Sorat Noll."
Irin's eyes narrowed.
"I'm not here to kill you," Dareth continued. "Unless you force me to. You've made enough of a mess."
A few of the Inquisitors groaned from the floor, burned but breathing.
"Then what do you want?" Irin demanded.
"To see if you're worth what he thinks you are."
The tension in the air didn't break, but it bent — like metal drawn taut. Dareth's gaze flicked to Kael and Lera.
"You're not alone. I see that. And I see you're not stupid."
Irin didn't answer.
Dareth lowered his hand slowly. "You'll have a choice soon, Ashborn. Whether to burn everything… or choose something more difficult."
With that, he turned to the others.
"Stand down. Leave them."
"But—" one Inquisitor started.
"That's an order."
The soldiers began retreating one by one. Some limped, and others carried scorched limbs. Dareth watched them go and then looked once more at Irin.
"I'll be fighting with you now."