Chapter 10 – Mark of the Dragon
The assassin's body hit the stone with a dull thud. Jean stood still, her blade dripping with light-tinged blood.
Whitney growled low, pacing in the half-circle of moonlight. "The Dragon Cult dares to act in secret. That symbol… it hasn't been seen in over a hundred years."
Jean cleaned her blade with quiet precision. "It means they're moving again."
"Do you think it's because of him?" Whitney asked.
Jean didn't answer at first.
Then: "Antares is still healing. But the cult never stopped worshiping him. If they're resurfacing now… they must believe his return is near."
The ruins around them suddenly felt older, heavier. The wind carried a weight of ancient dread.
Whitney spoke again. "This wasn't meant to kill you. It was a warning."
Jean turned toward the fire, her jaw clenched.
"A warning," she echoed. "To back down. To abandon the path. To fear what lies ahead."
She sat, crossing her legs, letting her aura settle into a quiet hum. Her voice was soft but unshakable.
"I won't turn away."
From her pack, she drew a sealed scroll—one of the final missions in her Envoy Knight trial. Marked in red wax, the seal of the Luther Council. She broke it.
The parchment read:
> "To the Emissary of Light, Jean Luther—
Your next assignment leads you to the Broken Valley, where the Skyrazor Dragons were last sighted. Survivors claim to have seen a black-winged shadow fly at dusk, bearing the same mark found in your last encounter. Investigate and report.
May your blade shine brighter than despair."
Jean stood.
Her gaze turned to the western mountains.
"Then we go west," she said. "To face whatever cult of flame dares to rise from ash."
Whitney nodded, and for the first time in days, his voice carried a touch of reverence.
"Your war has already begun."
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