The woman slipped into an alley, and Draven followed. He strolled casually behind her, hands in his pockets, his earrings clinging together with soft sounds. The woman froze mid-stride, looking behind her. Draven smiled, pulling his hands from his pockets, and adjusted his sleeves.
“You’ve been busy tonight.”
She looked at him warily, slowly sliding a dagger from her belt. “Who are you? What do you want?”
Draven chuckled. “Who sent you? Silvia? No, too sloppy for her.” He stepped forward, his fingers sliding into a pouch strapped to his waist. He pinched a bit of powder between his thumb and forefinger.
“A dagger in the stomach at the front door,” He said, “How amateur.”
She rushed forwards, lips tightened in anger, slashing at Draven’s neck. He slipped to the side, brushed her shoulder with a hand, and used the powder as a catalyst to cast a spell. It ignited, flowing into an angry red wave of flame as it scorched her arm. She jumped backwards, dropping her knife and clutched her hand, hissing.
Draven walked towards her, his lips a grin as she turned to flee. He moved to follow, but the whistle of something behind his head forced him to jump aside. He narrowly avoided a gleaming spear piercing into him. The stone underneath the spear shattered, spritzing his flinching face with bits of rock. Official source ıs novel⦿fire.net
He looked behind himself, his eyes barely tracking a bottle that soared towards his chest. He slapped it aside, casting it into the nearby wall. The glass shattered, spraying out with a pungent liquid. He recognized it at a glance. A paralytic?
He gave a fleeting look over his shoulder towards the fleeing woman, but turned to face the new threat. He could always track her later. He’d already tagged her like he had the Saintess. Wherever she went, he could follow. Draven frowned at the approaching woman.
“I need her alive,” She said.
“I’m afraid I disagree.”
She didn’t answer. The woman pulled her spear from the ground and looked towards him, frowning. Draven shot her a charming grin.
“You’re gorgeous, I’m gorgeous, how about we set this aside and call it a night?”
She thrusted her spear towards him, pushing the offense. Draven was pressured into dodging, his smile morphing into a frown.
He jumped backwards, avoiding a flurry of short thrusts as she expertly controlled the spear. The narrow space of the alley made it difficult for her to fully extend, and Draven took the opportunity to cast a spell. He pulled a pinch of powder and blew it towards her; a smoke cloud bloomed in the air, quickly shrouding the area. Draven took off running and slipped into a few different alleys, stopping only when he was sure he’d lost her.
He clicked his tongue. Always interrupted at the good part.
Should he follow the assassin? Undoubtedly she’d be protected by whatever organization that sent her. He raised a finger to his mouth, anxiously biting at the nail.
Who had just attacked him? He’d hoped to prove his loyalty to the Saintess by bringing her the assassin’s head, but now that plan had been ruined. No, he should regroup, cut his losses, and try to approach her again before she left the city. He had tracked her to her home, watched from the side as they entered their door. He had been crafting a scenario in which they could meet again when he saw the woman approach, watched as the Saintess had been stabbed.
Draven needed her. Needed her to stop him. He’d do everything in his power to ensure her cooperation. His fists clinched into a tight ball, his nails digging into the flesh. He thought of that domineering expression, his casual cruelty, his derision. The scent of burning flesh. The feel of ash on his hands, washed away by his tears. The man who had ruined his life.
I will never forgive him.