Thorne’s heart hammered in his chest, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. He could feel the aether thrumming beneath his skin, wild and untamed, a dark, dangerous force that threatened to consume him. But he didn’t care. There was no one left to hide from, no one left to protect. It was just him and them.

  And he was done holding back.

  The assassins moved closer, their eyes fixed on him, their blades glinting in the flickering torchlight. Thorne could see the anticipation in their stances, the hunger for the kill. He bared his teeth in a savage grin. They think they have me.

  “Come on, then,” he whispered, his voice low and taunting, his daggers held loosely at his sides. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  The first assassin lunged, his movements a blur of speed and precision. Thorne’s eyes narrowed, his body already reacting. He activated Aether Surge, feeling the rush of power flood his veins, heightening his senses, sharpening his reflexes. The world slowed around him, every detail crystal clear, every movement telegraphed.

  He twisted to the side, the assassin’s blade slicing through the air where his head had been moments before. Thorne’s dagger flashed, a faint silver glow igniting along the blade as he activated Silverlight Strikes. The weapon cleaved through the assassin’s arm, the blade cutting deep and sending the man stumbling back with a scream of pain.

  Thorne didn’t stop. He spun, his hand snapping up as he activated Aetheric Grip. Spectral arms erupted from the air, wrapping around the man’s throat, lifting him off the ground. Thorne’s eyes were cold, merciless, as he tightened his grip, feeling the man’s struggles weaken as the life was choked out of him.

  Another assassin charged, his body flickering as he used Shadow Step to close the distance, his dagger thrusting toward Thorne’s ribs. Thorne sensed the shift in the air, his heightened senses screaming a warning. He released his hold on the first assassin, dropping the lifeless body to the ground, and spun, his hand shooting out as he activated Invisible Threads. The ethereal strands wrapped around the incoming dagger, yanking it off course and pulling the assassin forward, off balance.

  Thorne’s knee came up, slamming into the man’s gut with brutal force. The assassin doubled over with a choked gasp, and Thorne brought his dagger down in a savage arc, the blade slicing across the back of the man’s neck. Blood sprayed, the assassin crumpling to the ground in a twitching heap.

  He didn’t have time to breathe. Another assassin lunged at him from the left, a flurry of rapid strikes aimed at his chest and throat. Thorne’s daggers were a blur as he parried and dodged, his movements precise, calculated. The assassin was skilled, his strikes fast and relentless, but Thorne could see the flaws in his technique, the tiny hesitations that betrayed his intent.

  He saw his opening, and without hesitation, he lashed out with Aether Burst. Wild aether exploded from his hand, a deadly force beam that blasted into the assassin’s chest, sending him flying back with a scream. The man crashed into the wall, the impact cracking the stone, and slid to the ground, blood trickling from his mouth as he gasped for breath.

  Thorne’s vision swam, the world tilting dangerously. He staggered, his hand gripping the hilt of his dagger as he fought to stay upright. The aether was taking its toll, draining him, but he couldn’t stop. Not yet. Not until they were all dead.

  He glanced around, his eyes narrowing as he took in the remaining assassins. There were six of them, their eyes locked on him, their expressions grim. They’d seen what he could do, seen the raw power he wielded. But they weren’t backing down. They spread out, circling him, their stances tense, their weapons gleaming in the dim light.

  One of them moved first, his form blurring as he activated Evasion, his body flickering in and out of sight as he darted forward, his blade aimed at Thorne’s heart. Thorne felt the shift in the air, the telltale prickle of aether, and activated Veil of Light and Shadow, his body blending into the shadows as he sidestepped the attack. The assassin’s blade passed through empty air, and Thorne reappeared behind him, his dagger driving into the man’s kidney with brutal precision.

  The assassin screamed, his body convulsing as Thorne twisted the blade, the faint silver glow of Silverlight Strikes burning into his flesh. Thorne yanked the dagger free, his eyes cold as he watched the man collapse, blood pooling around him.

  Four more.

  Thorne’s breath came in ragged gasps, his vision blurring at the edges. He could feel his strength waning, the aether tearing at his insides, burning through him like a wildfire. He couldn’t keep this up. Not for much longer. But he had to. He had to end this.

  The next assassin attacked, his body flickering with the telltale glow of Quick Step, his blade a blur as he struck at Thorne’s side. Thorne barely managed to bring his dagger up in time, the impact jarring his arm, sending pain shooting through his shoulder. He gritted his teeth, his free hand snapping up as he activated Aetheric Grip.

  Spectral arms erupted from the air, grabbing the assassin and lifting him off the ground. Thorne’s eyes blazed with fury as he clenched his fist, the ethereal limbs tightening around the man’s body. The assassin struggled, his eyes wide with fear as he thrashed against the invisible force.

  “Too late,” Thorne muttered, his voice low, almost detached. He flicked his hand, and the spectral arms twisted, snapping the man’s spine with a sickening crunch. Thorne released his hold, the body dropping to the ground in a broken heap.

  A dagger sliced through the air, and Thorne barely had time to twist away, the blade grazing his side. He hissed in pain, his hand going to the wound as blood seeped through his fingers. He turned, his eyes locking onto the assassin who had thrown the blade. The man was already moving, his body a blur as he activated Fleetfoot, his steps light and fast, his dagger flashing as he closed the distance.

  Thorne clenched his jaw, feeling the aether pulse within him, a dark, dangerous force that threatened to overwhelm him. He didn’t have the strength to use another burst, not without risking collapse. But he didn’t need it. Not for this one.

  His Aetheric Skin skill saved him as the assassin’s dagger slashed across his arm. The blade scored his skin, opening a shallow wound but nothing more, and Thorne stepped forward, his dagger driving into the man’s chest. The assassin’s eyes widened in shock, blood bubbling from his lips as he tried to pull away. Thorne twisted the blade, his gaze cold and unyielding.

  “Not so easy, is it?” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. He yanked the dagger free, the assassin falling to his knees before crumpling to the ground, his body twitching.

  Three more.

  Thorne’s vision swam, his legs trembling as he fought to stay upright. The wound in his side throbbed, pain radiating through his body with every breath. He was pushing himself too hard, burning through his reserves, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t stop. Not now.

  He turned to face the remaining assassins, his eyes blazing with a cold, fierce determination. “Come on, then,” he said, his voice rough, raw. “Let’s finish this.”

  The assassins hesitated, their eyes flicking to their fallen comrades, their expressions wary. Thorne could see the uncertainty in their stances, the fear in their eyes. They were thinking, calculating, weighing their options. Good. Let them be afraid. Let them see what he was.

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  The tallest of the three stepped forward, his eyes narrowed, his grip on his dagger tight. He activated Blur, his form shifting, becoming indistinct, a shadowy figure that moved with ghostly speed. Thorne’s eyes narrowed, his body tensing as he prepared to strike. He could barely see the man, his movements a blur of motion and shadow, but he could feel him, could sense the faint prickle of aether in the air.

  The assassin lunged, his blade aimed at Thorne’s throat. Thorne twisted, his dagger coming up to block, the force of the impact sending pain lancing through his arm. The assassin’s form shifted, his body flickering as he moved, his strikes fast and unpredictable. Thorne struggled to keep up, his body sluggish, his movements slower than they should have been.

  I’m not fast enough.

  The thought was cold, brutal, but he didn’t hesitate. He activated Aether Burst, feeling the wild aether surge through him, a dangerous, untamed force that clawed at his insides. He channeled it into his free hand, the energy crackling around his fingers as he thrust his palm forward. A blast of raw aether erupted from his hand, a force beam that slammed into the assassin’s chest, sending him flying back with a shocked cry.

  The assassin crashed into the wall, his body leaving a spiderweb of cracks in the stone as he slumped to the ground, gasping for breath. Thorne stumbled, his vision darkening at the edges, his legs trembling as he fought to stay upright. The burst had taken more out of him than he’d expected, draining what little strength he had left. But he couldn’t stop. Not yet.

  He forced himself to move, his feet dragging as he staggered toward the downed assassin. The man was struggling to get up, his breath coming in labored gasps, his body trembling. Thorne’s dagger glowed faintly with the light of the moon as he activated Silverlight Strikes, his grip tightening on the hilt.

  “Enough,” Thorne muttered, his voice low and cold. He brought the dagger down in a brutal arc, the blade piercing the man’s chest, the silver light flaring as it sank deep. The assassin’s body convulsed, a strangled gasp escaping his lips before he went still, his eyes wide and empty.

  Thorne pulled the dagger free, blood dripping from the blade as he turned to face the last two assassins. His vision blurred, his head spinning as he struggled to focus. He could feel the aether tearing at him, burning through his veins like molten fire. He was pushing himself too hard, using too much.

  Just two more.

  He took a deep breath, his chest heaving, and raised his dagger, his eyes narrowing as he sized up the remaining assassins. They were watching him, their expressions tense, their eyes flicking to each other as if weighing their options. Thorne could see the fear in their eyes, the uncertainty. They didn’t know what to do, didn’t know if they could take him.

  One of them stepped forward, his blade held low, his eyes locked on Thorne’s. He moved with a cautious grace, his stance careful, controlled. Thorne could see the tension in his muscles, the way his fingers tightened around the hilt of his dagger. He was waiting, watching for an opening.

  Thorne didn’t give him one. He activated Aetheric Grip, the spectral arms erupting from the air, wrapping around the assassin’s body. The man’s eyes widened in shock as he was lifted off the ground, his struggles frantic and desperate as he tried to break free. Thorne’s hand clenched into a fist, the ethereal limbs tightening around the assassin’s limbs, squeezing the air from his lungs.

  The other assassin took advantage of Thorne’s distraction, his body blurring as he activated Blink Step, teleporting across the room in a flash of shadow. Thorne barely had time to react as the man reappeared beside him, his dagger flashing in the dim light as he drove it toward Thorne’s side.

  Pain exploded through Thorne’s ribs as the blade sank into his flesh, the force of the blow driving the air from his lungs. He gasped, his vision going white for a moment, his body screaming in agony. He staggered back, his grip on the first assassin faltering as he fought to keep his balance.

  The assassin grinned, his eyes gleaming with triumph as he twisted the blade, the pain flaring hot and sharp through Thorne’s side. “Got you,” the man hissed, his voice filled with savage satisfaction.

  Thorne’s eyes blazed with fury, his lips pulling back in a snarl. “Not yet,” he growled, his voice rough with pain. He activated Aether Burst, the wild energy surging through him, the force beam exploding from his hand at point-blank range. The blast slammed into the assassin, tearing him away from Thorne, sending him crashing into the opposite side of the room with a scream of agony.

  Thorne stumbled, his hand going to his side as he gasped for breath. Blood seeped between his fingers, the wound throbbing with every heartbeat. He could feel the aether tearing at his insides, his strength waning with every second. He was running out of time, running out of energy.

  Just one more.

  The last assassin was struggling against the spectral arms, his face twisted in pain, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Thorne’s vision blurred, the room tilting dangerously as he forced himself to stay upright. He had to end this, had to finish it.

  He moved with brutal precision, his body a blur as he closed the distance between them, his dagger held tight in his trembling hand. The silver light flared along the blade, the faint glow casting eerie shadows across his face.

  The assassin’s eyes widened in fear, his struggles growing more frantic as Thorne reached him. Thorne didn’t hesitate, didn’t flinch. He drove the dagger into the man’s chest, the silver light blazing as the blade sank deep.

  The assassin gasped, his body convulsing, his eyes wide with pain and terror. Thorne twisted the blade, feeling the resistance give way as the man’s heart stopped, his body going limp in the spectral arms.

  Thorne pulled the dagger free, his hand shaking, blood dripping from the blade. He released his hold on the spectral arms, the body dropping to the ground with a dull thud. He stood there, his chest heaving, his vision swimming as he looked around the blood-soaked room.

  It’s over.

  He stood in the blood-soaked entrance hall, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his body trembling with exhaustion. The wild aether he’d unleashed had left him feeling like his skin had been ripped away, every nerve exposed and raw, as if someone had poured poison directly onto his flesh. His vision swam, the room tilting dangerously as he swayed on his feet. The pain was a living thing, writhing through him, threatening to drag him under.

  Just stay conscious, he told himself, clenching his jaw against the waves of agony. He forced himself to take a step forward, his legs shaking, his mind struggling to remain focused. He couldn’t pass out now. Not yet. He had to go find Lady Thornfield, Eliza and Tom. He had to make sure they were safe.

  His head pounded, every beat of his heart sending a fresh wave of pain crashing through his body. He blinked, his vision blurring, and then something flickered in the corner of his eye. He turned, his gaze locking onto two figures huddled near the doorway. Guards. They were still alive.

  Thorne’s heart clenched, his stomach twisting as he took them in. They were covered in blood, their faces pale and drawn, their eyes wide with terror. They’d seen everything. Every aetheric skill, every unnatural display of power. They’d seen him use abilities that marked him as one of the Elder Race.

  He forced a smile onto his lips, the expression strained and shaky. His Acting skill kicked in, his body language shifting, his voice taking on a note of forced lightness. “You’re safe now,” he said, his voice rough but soothing, as he staggered toward them. “The bad guys are dead.”

  The guards didn’t move. Their eyes were locked on him, their expressions frozen in a mix of horror and disbelief. Thorne could see the fear in their gazes, the way they flinched as he drew closer. They weren’t looking at him like a hero. They were looking at him like he was a monster.

  One of the guards took a step back, his hand trembling on the hilt of his sword. Thorne’s smile widened, a faint, brittle thing that felt wrong on his lips. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice gentle, trying to sound reassuring. “It’s okay. It’s over. You’re safe.”

  The guard’s eyes darted to his fallen comrades, to the blood staining the marble floor, and then back to Thorne. “You—what are you?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

  Thorne’s smile didn’t falter, even as something cold and dark coiled in his chest. “Just someone trying to help,” he said softly. He could see the disbelief in their eyes, the way they looked at him like they didn’t quite know what he was. Like they didn’t know if they should run or fight.

  He took another step forward, his legs trembling, the world swaying around him. His head felt heavy, his thoughts sluggish. He needed to rest, needed to close his eyes, just for a moment. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

  “Do you guys happen to have a spare potion?” he asked, his voice light, almost casual. His vision blurred, the edges darkening, but he forced himself to keep the smile on his face, to keep the tone friendly, non-threatening. He had to play this right. He couldn’t afford to slip up.

  One of the guards shook his head, his eyes wide with fear. “N-no, I—we used them all,” he stammered, his voice shaking.

  Thorne’s smile didn’t waver, even as he felt his heart sink. “Too bad,” he whispered, his voice almost a sigh. He stumbled forward, his body swaying, and the guards reached out instinctively, their hands coming up to catch him.

  He moved in a blur, his dagger flashing in the dim light as he slashed across their throats in a single, fluid motion. Blood sprayed, hot and sticky, and the guards dropped to the ground, their eyes wide with shock and betrayal as they clutched at their throats, their bodies twitching.

  Thorne stood over them, his chest heaving, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He watched the light fade from their eyes, the life draining away, and felt...nothing. No guilt, no regret. Just a cold, detached relief.

  They saw too much. They knew too much. He couldn’t afford witnesses. Not now, not ever. He was too close, too exposed. He couldn’t let anyone know what he really was. He couldn’t let anyone see the truth.

  He closed his eyes, his legs trembling, his body screaming in agony. He’d done what he had to do. He’d survived.

  One step at a time.

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