Eight years had passed since Blaze last felt like a child. The world he once feared had become second nature. Silence, obedience, shadows—he moved through them like breath. He had become what the clan wanted. What they shaped. What they owned.
On the surface, he was a flawless assassin—swift, efficient, untraceable. Missions blurred together: poison in a diplomat's wine, a "training accident" at a rival compound, a vanishing prince whose body was never found. Blaze completed them all without hesitation. Not because he believed in the clan—but because each kill, each drop of blood, was a step closer to something else.
Serena.
Thirteen years since he last saw her. Thirteen years since he clutched her hand beneath the cherry trees, laughing as she fixed the flower in his hair. That laughter was a distant echo now, buried beneath layers of cold discipline and scars no one could see. But it lived. Quietly. A fire smoldering beneath the ash.
He hadn't forgotten. He never would.
The Veil thought they had made him theirs.
But Blaze had been playing a longer game.
He returned from his latest mission bloodied but untouched, his blade still humming with the energy of a clean kill. The target had begged. They often did. That part never changed.
The gates of the compound creaked open. Guards bowed as he passed—deeply, with fear. Not respect. No one respected weapons. They feared them.
Blaze entered the training hall where Master Riven waited, seated cross-legged beside the brazier. The same brazier that had once warmed him as a child.
"Another clean execution," Riven said without looking up.
Blaze nodded. "No complications."
Riven's gaze rose, calm and unreadable. He had aged more—new lines around the eyes, hair streaked with grey—but his presence was no less imposing. "And yet, something is different. Your silence is heavier than usual."
Blaze didn't answer. He sat across from his mentor, removing his gloves. His hands were steady.
Riven studied him. "You've become what they wanted. And yet, you still burn for something they never gave you."
Blaze said nothing. He didn't need to.
"Good," Riven muttered. "You'll need that fire for this next mission."
He unrolled a scroll between them. A photograph slipped out: a girl, no older than nineteen, in a school uniform, exiting a sleek black car. Carefree, bright-eyed, holding a phone in one hand and a coffee in the other. Life untouched by darkness.
"Alina Rowe," Riven said. "Heiress to the Rowe Corporation. A multi-sector empire. Pharmaceuticals, defense, AI development. Her father is aligned with our enemies. She's next in line. We need to remove her before she consolidates power."
Blaze stared at the image, his jaw tight. "You want me to kill a student."
"She's not just a student. She's a symbol. A threat. Her death sends a message."
Blaze picked up the photo. The girl looked ordinary. Happy. Innocent. His stomach churned—not out of guilt, but recognition. She had the same light in her eyes Serena once did. Untouched. Unaware.
"Why me?" he asked.
"Because this mission requires subtlety. You'll be embedded near the campus. Surveillance, proximity, timing. If needed—elimination. But only if the opportunity presents without compromise. No mess."
He was being trusted. Not just with a blade, but with discretion. That made this different. More dangerous.
"You leave at dusk. Car's waiting."
Riven stood, preparing to walk away. But Blaze spoke before he could.
"Have you ever regretted it?"
Riven paused. "Regretted what?"
"Becoming what they made us."
A silence stretched between them, old and deep.
Riven turned his head slightly. "Every day."
Blaze nodded once. It was the closest thing to honesty they'd ever shared.
He returned to his quarters to prepare. His gear was already packed: blades, tools, forged documents, a student ID under the alias "Kai Voss." Everything the mission required.
But he paused before sealing the bag. From beneath his mattress, he pulled out a worn leather journal. Pages filled with sketches, symbols, old memories—some of Serena, some of things he didn't understand. Warnings in dreams. Faces of people he'd killed. Maps of places he'd never been.
He ran a finger over the faded drawing of Serena's face, the flower still in her hair.
"I'm coming," he whispered.
This mission… it might not just be a job.
It might be his first step out.
He stepped into the night, the compound lights casting long shadows over the courtyard. Mira and Kael watched him from a distance. His mother's arms were crossed, her eyes tight with something between worry and pride. His father gave a slight nod, ever the soldier.
They didn't speak. They hadn't in a long time.
He climbed into the car, the door clicking shut behind him. Leather seats. Tinted windows. The driver didn't speak.
As the compound faded behind him, Blaze leaned back and stared out the window.
The city lights began to rise in the distance, bright against the dusk.
Somewhere out there was a girl he was supposed to kill.
Somewhere out there… was also Serena.
The road stretched ahead like a dark ribbon under the gray morning sky. Rain tapped rhythmically against the roof of the car, a dull pattering sound that echoed in Blaze's mind. The interior was dim, tinted windows muting the outside world into a blur of wet shadows and passing lights. The driver, one of the clan's silent operatives, didn't speak. He never did. Blaze preferred it that way.
He sat in the back seat, arms folded, gaze fixed on the world outside. His reflection stared back at him faintly from the window glass—a sharper jawline, eyes colder than they once were, hair now kept short and efficient. But deeper than the physical changes was something else. A burning ember that refused to die.
Serena.
Thirteen years. He hadn't seen her since he was five, and yet her image never left him. He remembered her laughter, soft like wind chimes. The warmth of her hand around his. How she would bend down and look him in the eye like he was more than just a child of the Veil. Like he was real. Like he mattered.
In all the years that followed, no one had ever looked at him like that again.
The mission details replayed in his mind. Riven had been precise. The target was a girl—an heiress to a vast corporate empire that stood in the clan's way. She was young, attending a prestigious college in the heart of the city. Public. Vulnerable. Easy to watch, harder to touch.
Blaze didn't ask why she had to die. He already knew the answer. The Silent Veil didn't kill for morality. It killed for control.
And yet…
He couldn't stop thinking about the way Riven looked at him when he handed over the file. There was something else there. Something unspoken.
"She's not like the others," Riven had said before Blaze left. "This mission… it's a turning point. For you. For us."
He didn't elaborate, and Blaze didn't press. But he felt it too. This wasn't just another name on a list. This mission was different. It reeked of something deeper.
Blaze adjusted his coat and leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment. He could feel the weight of the knife strapped to his ankle. The faint bump of the data chip hidden in his jacket. Tools of the trade. Symbols of the life he'd been molded into.
But under all of it…
He was still the boy who had stared into fire, listening to secrets in the silence.
He was still Blaze.
He thought of Mira—her silence a blade sharper than any weapon. Kael's eyes, always distant. And Riven… the closest thing he had to a real mentor. All of them shaped him, tested him, and maybe in their own ways, protected him. But none of them ever asked him what he wanted.
Because in the Veil, what you wanted didn't matter.
Only obedience did.
But Blaze had learned. Learned to smile when they told him to kill. Learned to bow when they gave him orders. Learned to hide his fire behind masks.
The truth was, he didn't belong to the Silent Veil. Not truly.
They had taken his body. Trained his reflexes. Honed his instincts.
But they never tamed his will.
And now, as the car glided toward the city skyline—bright and buzzing with life so unlike the cold stone corridors of the compound—he felt something tighten in his chest. A sense of purpose. Of resolve.
This mission could be his opening.
He didn't know the girl yet. Didn't know her story, her face, or even her voice.
But he knew he wouldn't be a tool forever.
He opened the mission file again, eyes scanning her image. Dark hair. Gentle eyes. A soft, almost naïve smile.
So different from the world he came from.
He wondered if she knew she was marked.
He wondered if she would be afraid.
He wondered—just briefly—if she might remind him of Serena.
The thought disturbed him more than he wanted to admit.
Blaze folded the file closed. The rain had stopped. The city was closer now—towers of glass and steel rising like giants above the mist. Life pulsed in it, wild and unpredictable.
The clan believed he was theirs.
But they had made a mistake.
They had let him learn too much.
They had let him feel too much.
And now, they were sending him into a world where masks could be broken, and silence couldn't protect them.
As the car entered the city limits, Blaze looked up at the sky—gray and endless.
He whispered under his breath.
"Soon."
Not just for Serena.
Not just for the girl.
But for himself.
The fire within him stirred again, silent but bright. He would not be caged much longer.
And when the time came, the Silent Veil would learn:
Obedience is not loyalty.
And silence is not surrender.