The group had split into two.
The Reaper and The Guide took one path. The others followed a separate route - one drawn on a worn map, sketched by The Guide herself.
The plan was simple. The Reaper would eliminate the Tyrant's son. Meanwhile, the remaining knights would strike the royal forces in the city. A coordinated distraction meant to split their defense.
Halfway to the Guide's hometown, the two travellers reached an old, hidden entrance - a narrow tunnel buried beneath the earth. It led directly into the heart of the prince's castle.
But it was guarded by seven royal soldiers who patrolled the tunnel.
Seventy meters. Seven targets. Loud fighting would bring reinforcements. So, The Reaper chose the path of shadow to silence the guards.
The Guide placed a hand on his shoulder. Her lips moved without a sound, and a faint shimmer spread over their bodies. A veil of magic - invisibility now wrapped around them both.
He nodded. They moved.
The Reaper moved through the darkness like death itself. In the first thirty meters, he dispatched four guards. Not a single sound. Not a single drop wasted.
The remaining three guards patrolled together, unaware of the fate awaiting them. The Reaper pulled a small glass bottle from his cloak and threw it toward the wall. The guards turned sharply toward the noise, stepping closer to the corpses of their fallen comrades. Panic flooded their eyes. They had no idea who or what was hunting them.
One of them moved ahead and never saw the dagger that opened his throat. A silent flash and he dropped without a sound, blood pooling at his feet.
The second turned to call his name, but a dagger flew, silencing him mid-word.
The third guard ran. He didn't get far. The Reaper chased silently and relentlessly. The man screamed, just once, before the dagger met his spine, silencing him forever.
Seventy percent of the tunnel was behind them now. The two travellers paused for breath. It was not yet the end of their journey, but the beginning, and blood was already all over the Reaper's hands.
The Reaper's skill left The Guide speechless. She had never seen a warrior so cold, so precise - someone who could take a life without hesitation, without a flicker of emotion.
But she understood. She knew what had shaped him. Hatred. A fire born years ago, the day his family was taken from him. In that way, they weren't so different.
"I've heard what you went through. You have my condolences. I understand your need for this... and I'll help you see it through."
The Reaper said nothing at first. Then, his eyes narrowed. His voice cut through the silence, not with anger, but with something colder.
"What about you?"
He changed the subject without warning, as if refusing to accept sympathy as if it was something he no longer deserved.
"Why do you care so much about that city? Why are you walking beside me, chasing the death of the Tyrant's son?"
A faint smile appeared on woman's face.
"Very well, but let me show you - not with words, but with memory.
Let me place my hand upon your head... and show you what I've seen."
The Reaper gave a silent nod and without a word, he lowered his head. As her hand rested gently atop his hair, a white light consumed his vision. The Reaper was no longer in the tunnel, but in the past. Ten years ago. To the moment her story began.
It was a time when the hunger for power began to spread like fire across the land.
The city had once been beautiful - full of smiling faces, children playing without fear. But in a single day, the same very place became the city of blood. Royal soldiers marched in with demands. They set new rules that not everyone liked. Those who resisted paid with their lives.
Among them was a little girl - too young to understand what hatred truly was. She played with the others in the square, laughing, running, dreaming. But one day... the laughter was gone.
Her friends had vanished - some were hiding, some were already dead.
She searched all day, wandering empty streets, calling names that no longer answered. When she returned home, she found something no child should ever see. A nightmare so cruel, even her dreams had never show such cruelty.
Her father sat at the wooden table with wide opened eyes, frozen in place - as if still waiting for dinner. A sword was buried in his chest
Her mother lay nearby, her throat pierced by a dagger, her skin blistered and red - as though boiling soup had splashed across her before the end.
"Mama... Papa..."
That was the moment it happened.
The moment a little girl felt something for the first time. Hatred.
The Reaper opened his eyes. The Guide's memory had passed, and her loss now lived within him. He didn't say a word. There was nothing left to say. He simply moved forward.