Part 1

Taking a deep breath, Erik froze on one page, his heart instantly pounding and an image flashed into his mind as Kyburn and Trygve ran out the door.

“Yes, sir.” Henry mumbled.

“Henry?” he asked softly but in a way that alarmed him. “What is this?” Erik asked the obvious.

From his tone, Erik could tell he had frightened Henry but as he looked to where he was pointing the boy looked confused.

“Uh… it’s a bell.” Henry said awkwardly. “What did you think it was?”

“I-It seems familiar somehow.” Erik said simply.

“What like…” Henry paused. “From Felkuru familiar?”

“I think so.” Erik scratched his chin. “I think he is trying to tell me something.”

“I noticed the bell earlier too but I eventually gave up trying to figure it out.” Henry said. “I was actually going to ask you about it, now that I remember. I forgot about it ever since Trygve told us everything about Armin.”

“Well. I definitely think it's something.” Erik said weakly, unable to piece it together. “My mind is a bit fuzzy.”

“Understandably.” Henry said sympathetically. “You didn’t look so good when you had your seizure. I didn’t know how to help you. You seemed to be in so much pain.”

“Yes... I was.” Erik trailed off. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that. It’s not the most flattering to see a dethroned king flailing about like a lunatic.”

He was greeted by a chuckle from Henry but his face grew grim an instant later. “I hope Felkuru doesn’t keep doing this to you. As bad as this last one was, I don’t see how you could withstand much more.”

“Nor I.” Erik frowned. “I’ve been thinking that very thing.”

Part 2

Henry paced in the room from one end to the next, placing his hand on his sword then removing it over and over again. His fidgeting soon annoyed Erik who was still looking through the book full of Armin’s drawings.

“Will you please stop that?” Erik huffed. “You’re making me nervous just by looking at you.”

“Sorry.” Henry stopped in place, embarrassed.

The mechanical alarm bells hadn’t stopped, which made Henry antsier than before. His anticipation was killing him, unable to leave and see for himself. Realizing his worry for Kyburn was useless, Henry plopped down in place, taking a seat next to Erik.

“I hate this!” he said, frustration dripping from his tone.

“I’m sorry that you hate protecting me.” Erik joked.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Henry said angrily, not taking the joke well.

“Calm yourself. You need to learn how to be patient.” Erik commented, still looking in the book. “There’s nothing you or I can do right now.”

“I am…” Henry hesitated mid-sentence, realizing his own impatience. He let out a groan and threw his hands in the air in defeat. “Fine. You’re right.”

Erik smiled inwardly at the boy but also understood his frustration. He too, wished he could be out there helping with whatever was happening but he was too weak to even stand. The seizures were taking more out of him than he cared to admit. He felt completely drained of strength and his mind was still hazy.

Henry’s concern had hit too close on the mark. The more he thought about it, the more he wished he could be rid of this bond between Fel and himself. He didn’t understand why Felkuru had fused with him in the first place.

All these questions raced through his mind continuously.

Pounding on the door startled Erik from his thoughts and Henry scrambled out of his chair. Henry whipped the door open to Hazam huffing, out of breath.

A single book in his hand.

“Where.” he gulped. “Trygve?”

“They went to the caves.” Erik answered immediately.

“Kyburn is with him. They should already be there by now.” Henry added.

Hazam bolted away without another word.

Henry hesitated, seeming as if he would follow the Kligirian but he stayed put. A glance back at him told Erik he wasn’t about to leave him.

Part 3

Kyburn rushed behind Trygve, the older man running slower than he’d like but he kept behind him, relying on his knowledge to get through the maze-like castle.

“It’s the ruins.” Trygve said, his voice sounding desperate. “Someone has infiltrated the castle.”

Shouts from soldiers down the hall let them know they were not alone when entering the cave. Trygve gestured for Kyburn to go ahead of him, as they caught up to several soldiers rushing down the steps into the caves. Kyburn sprinted by Trygve and shoved his way past two guards and lept four steps at a time down into the dim tunnel.

It was dark and moist which nearly made him slip and fall several times but Kyburn kept his footing and rushed to the door. Upon rounding the corner he saw a dozen men, lying on the ground, dead. His gaze immediately focused on a man in black clothes, a black mask covering his face along with a hood.

Instantly, Kyburn recognized the man as the assassin who killed Xerath’s son. That memory was a bitter and sickening one, as Xerath had gone into great detail of the man in black. Kyburn refocused quickly, forcing himself to take in the scene before him.

At the corner of his eye, further down the cave, he saw figures disappear into the darkness. Moving to block the remaining enemy inside, Kyburn stood in the doorway.

There was smoke pooling on the roof trying to escape as a large fire burned in the middle of the room. Red lights flashed as smoke and heat from the fire alerted everyone of the danger. The hooded man looked up at him as he threw the last book into the pile of burning paper.

Kyburn’s stomach sank as he realized what was fueling the fires. He had burned all the books, notes, journals, and every paper in the room.

“You cannot stop this.” the masked man calmly stated. “Whatever you do, you will fail. I have already destroyed your last hope.”

Kyburn silently drew his sword and rushed the man, ignoring the pile of bodies surrounding him. Spots on the floor were slick with blood and he mentally noted where each body lay as to avoid any misstep.

“I see your friends have left you behind.” Kyburn prodded.

“They’ve served their purpose. I have no need for them anymore.” the man countered.

It was odd but Kyburn also took a mental note of his response. Taking a step forward, Kyburn lunged toward the saboteur swinging his sword down with all his might, trying to split the man in two.

As if he were playing with a child, the masked man sidestepped the blow with ease, then backhanded him across the face. The force from the slap was so hard, Kyburn nearly flew to the ground from the impact. Instead, he backstepped with the force and kept his balance by a metal table for support. Immediately he readied himself for another attack.

“I don’t have to kill you.” he said behind his mask. “My mission is complete. Let me leave.”

“You will not leave this place alive.” Kyburn spat blood from his mouth. His upper lip, bleeding and swollen from the strike. “But before I kill you, I’ll pry every bit of information from you before I do.”

“So be it.” he whispered, his mask muffling his voice.

He flew toward Kyburn with lighting speed, coming at him with a fist raised. With all his might, Kyburn jerked his head aside, as a blade narrowly missed his face. A glint from the man in black’s left hand indicated a dagger, which Kyburn backstepped frantically, barely dodging in time.

The cold steel swiped an inch from his stomach, nearly gutting him like a pig. His head pounded as the adrenaline kicked in, enhancing his senses and speed. The attack didn’t stop, however, an instant later the man’s right fist came up for another blow.

His movement wasn’t human, it was too fast and strong for any ordinary man. Black clothes flapping behind him, he lept straight for Kyburn. This time, Kyburn lifted his sword ready for a thrust. The instant he was close enough, Kyburn jumped straight into the punch but shoved his sword into the chest of the man in black.

His head was struck so hard, he saw stars and his vision dimmed. For an instant, Kyburn thought he had landed the blow to his chest but a moment later he realized the man in black’s shirt had been cut, missing him entirely. Agonizing pain shot through his right hand and his nose as he saw his own sword being flipped through the air and being caught by the saboteur. He had dodged his thrust, hit his hand so hard it broke bone, and managed to disarm him in one fluid movement.

It took a moment for Kyburn to realize what had happened. He had shifted his body at the last moment of the strike, dodging past the sword and redirecting his attack to Kyburns wrist. While moving, the assassin shifted his weight, snapping the sword from Kyburn’s grip as he brought his elbow straight into his face, knocking him to the ground.

It happened so fast, Kyburn barely saw it and was amazed at the speed and skill of the hooded figure.

He was playing with him.

“I warned you,” he said calmly. “Don’t chase after me.”

Lifting the sword, he placed it on Kyburn’s chest, his head still spinning. Unable to think straight or move his body, he lifted his face to the man about to kill him in a last act of defiance. Twisting his body, Kyburn frantically tried to unbalance the assassin but to no avail. A heavy boot crashed into his gut, nearly making him puke. Kyburn flinched, watching his own sword descend straight into his chest.

Out of nowhere, it seemed, a soft whistling sound came flying past the assassin’s head, scratching his cheek. The hooded man’s attention jerked upward toward the entrance to the ruin. Another bolt, hastily aimed, flew through the air and struck the masked man in the left shoulder. Bone cracked, shattering his shoulder blade, flesh tore and blood sprayed from the wound.

It didn’t seem to bother him but he looked down at his shoulder in shock, as if realizing he could be hurt for the first time. Another bolt whizzed straight for his head but he ducked and the projectile passed over them. Bending down as if readying himself to jump, the masked man came up next to Kyburn’s ear.

“Looks like I don’t have to kill you after all.” he whispered. “I’ll be seeing you again old friend.”

An instant later, he dashed past him, running further into the ruin at top speed.

Guards shouted and rushed past him but Kyburn couldn’t understand what they were saying as it was in a foreign language.

Kyburn looked up to see who saved him, it was Hazam who stared at him with a blank expression but nodded in recognition. Kyburn nodded back to him in thanks, Hazam and the guards had saved his life. He thought back to what the assassin had said. Thinking it odd that he would even speak to him. Even stranger that he didn’t want to kill him. His last words struck him like a pinched nerve, “Do I know him?” he thought. “He must know me from somewhere.” At first, Kyburn dismissed the idea but being here, alive, made him rethink whether or not the masked man truly wanted to kill him or not.

A silent but cool rage boiled inside him as he thought that he could be the very man that had killed the prince of Xer. The assassin, that had never been caught. The man that had nearly destroyed Xerath and almost killed Cara.

Looking down at his hand, Kyburn noticed his fingers had been broken, two were snapped at odd angles. His wrist was swollen but he could move it which gave him hope that it had not been broken and only his fingers needed mending.

Kyburn scooted up to the wall as dozens of men with swords and crossbows chased after the assassin. Sighing in relief, Kyburn willed himself to calm down but an intense wave of exhaustion hit him, making him want to fall asleep right there.

“You live.” Hazam stood over him, still holding an empty crossbow. “You lucky you alive.” he smirked.

Kyburn chuckled, somehow he found it funny that he was saved by this odd-sounding man. “I’m not sure if you had a good or bad aim but at least you didn’t hit me.” he joked.

“Ha.” Hazam laughed. “I have bad aim. I aim for you... not assassin.” he grinned stupidly down at Kyburn.

In reality, Kyburn knew the shot was made in haste as Hazam had just rounded the corner upon seeing his imminent demise. Hazam had shot his crossbow without aiming in an attempt to save him, in which case he was successful.

“I’m alive.” Kyburn chuckled then winced in pain. “Thank you for saving me.”

Hazam nodded in respect, though Kyburn wondered if deep down, this man wanted him to have died for killing their king so long ago. He didn’t doubt those very thoughts were swirling in his head and he wouldn't have blamed him for it either.

Hazam’s face grew grim as he looked at the scene around them. Over a dozen of his guards lay dead. He frowned and with a pained expression moved to bend over a fallen comrade.

A sharp pang of sympathy shot through Kyburn as he watched Hazam give homage to the dead and give them the respect due to a soldier.

Kyburn turned his head to the burning piles of research and a sense of dread came over him. They would never figure out how to wake the Ancients without Armin’s books. “Why were assassin’s hellbent on hindering them from awakening the Ancients?”