Thorne’s breath hitched as Rielle raised her bow, her eyes locked on him with cold precision. His muscles tensed, and before he could even blink, an arrow whistled past his head, close enough for him to feel the sharp wind from its flight. His reflexes kicked in, and he dove to the side, heart pounding, his back hitting the cold stone wall behind him.

  What the hell?

  He looked up just in time to see Rielle leaping from the rooftop, her figure silhouetted against the moonlit sky. His eyes widened in disbelief as he realized she wasn’t falling, she was flying, zipping down a rope tied to the arrow she’d just fired, using her bow as a makeshift zipline handle. She was coming straight for him, fast, her cloak billowing out behind her like wings.

  Sid chuckled behind him, clearly amused by the spectacle. “Well, that’s new.”

  But Thorne didn’t have time to focus on Sid. His attention was fully on Rielle, who was closing the distance with frightening speed. Her movements were graceful, effortless even. As she neared the ground, she let go of the rope, landing lightly in front of him. She was so close that Thorne had to take a step back to avoid being bowled over by her sudden arrival.

  He blinked, momentarily stunned by the maneuver. “New trick?” he asked, forcing a grin despite the tension in the air. It wasn’t every day someone ziplined out of the night sky to land inches from his face.

  But Rielle’s expression quickly reminded him that this wasn’t just some friendly encounter. The anger in her eyes was unmistakable. For the first time in a long while, her carefully crafted mask of indifference was gone, replaced by raw emotion. Hurt, betrayal, and fury all wrapped up in her gaze.

  Thorne’s smirk faded. He hadn’t seen her like this since… well, ever.

  For a second, he saw her try to rein it in, her face tightening as she attempted to slip back into her usual stoic facade. But she was struggling. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her knuckles turning white as she fought to keep control.

  “Rielle...” Thorne started, his voice quieter, unsure of what to say. But she turned her back on him before he could finish, dismissing him completely. Her cold shoulder stung more than he wanted to admit.

  Instead, she directed her words at Sid, her voice sharp and cold. “When we were called for our final trial and he wasn’t there, I thought I should find him.”

  She scoffed, bitterness lacing her words. “I guess I didn’t need to.”

  Sid raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of them, clearly enjoying the tension in the air. His lips curled into an amused smirk, as though he was watching a show just for his own entertainment. His gaze darted between Thorne and Rielle like he was waiting for someone to throw the first punch, relishing the charged atmosphere.

  But no fight came. Instead, Rielle spun on her heel, her boots slapping angrily against the cobblestones as she stormed off without another word.

  Sid let out an exaggerated sigh, disappointed. “Well, that was anticlimactic.”

  Thorne didn’t respond, his eyes still locked on Rielle’s retreating form. The way she walked, stiff and deliberate, betrayed just how upset she truly was. He could feel the anger radiating off her, even from a distance. The tension in her shoulders, the way her fists never unclenched, it was clear she was holding herself together by a thread. And all because of what she’d seen earlier.

  Sid, never one to let things drop, shot Thorne a sideways glance, his smirk widening. “You know, if I saw my girlfriend kissing some other guy, my knives would’ve done the talking by now.”

  Thorne clenched his teeth, feeling his own frustration flare up. But rather than rising to Sid’s bait, he forced a smirk and fired back, “You with a girlfriend? Now that’s a tall dream.”

  Sid’s face twisted in annoyance. “Whatever,” he muttered, waving Thorne off dismissively. “I’ve had plenty of girlfriends. But let’s not focus on that... Your lordship,” he added with mock reverence. “The whole class is waiting for you.”

  Sid turned and began walking, his boots crunching against the loose gravel. Thorne watched him for a moment, rolling his eyes, before trailing after him.

  He couldn’t resist throwing one last jab. “Those girlfriends… the four-legged variety, I assume?”

  Sid’s hand shot out, aiming for the back of Thorne’s head, but Thorne ducked just in time, his laughter ringing through the empty street.

  But as they continued walking, Thorne’s laughter slowly faded, replaced by the nagging thoughts of Rielle’s face, the way she had looked at him, the pain in her eyes. He wanted to focus on the trial ahead, but no matter how hard he tried, her expression haunted him.

  Ever since their rift, things had shifted between them. The tentative bond they had formed during their early days in the guild had shattered. What had once felt like a deep connection now seemed fragile and broken. The realization settled in his chest like a weight.

  For a long time, he had convinced himself that his feelings for her were real, that they had something deeper. But with distance, clarity came. Their connection had been born out of survival, shared pain, and the need for comfort in the darkest days of the guild. They were just two people who had sought solace in each other when there was nothing else. Now, he could see it for what it really was.

  It wasn’t love. It was need.

  Things were different now.

  I’ve changed, he thought to himself, his brow furrowing. And so has she.

  The streets darkened as they neared one of the hidden entrances to the Lost Ones’ lair, concealed beneath a shadowy bridge. The familiar flicker of green flame from the torches lit their path, casting eerie shadows on the cobblestone walls.

  For the first time in what felt like forever, Thorne was back. Back to the place that had scarred him, shaped him, and in many ways, made him into what he was today. The lair of the Lost Ones, the place that had carved pieces of his soul and filled them with something darker, harder.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  He thought his heart would be racing, that fear or anticipation would have him on edge. But strangely, he felt calm. More than calm, he felt ready.

  This is just another trial, he told himself. One final step.

  He glanced at Sid, who was whistling an off-tune melody, clearly unbothered by the looming trial.

  Thorne didn’t feel his heart race or his body tense with fear. He was calm. He was certain.

  This was his closing chapter with the guild. One more step before he could finally leave this part of his life behind.

  And he was ready to get it over with. Ready to never look back.

  *

  Sid led Thorne through the familiar dark corridors, winding deeper into the belly of the Lost Ones’ lair. Thorne’s thoughts drifted as they approached the fighting cage. He hadn’t been here in years, hadn’t needed to come back to this place. But he remembered it well. Too well.

  This was where he had killed that boy on his first day in the guild. His initiation. His first atrocity. A life for a life, they had said. The boy had been his ticket into the Lost Ones, a ticket bought with blood. The memory clawed at his mind, raw and visceral.

  Thorne almost laughed at the thought. If only my mother could see me now, he thought bitterly. What would she think if she knew what he had become? If she witnessed the pain and suffering he had caused, the countless lives he had claimed?

  He didn’t let himself entertain the thought for too long. Deep down, he already knew what her reaction would be, and it was too painful to face.

  When they reached the cage, it was just as he remembered it, a crude metal structure in the center of the chamber, surrounded by the cold, stone walls of the underground lair. His entire class was there, waiting. But not just his class. Older members, veterans of the Lost Ones, sat on a raised dais overlooking the cage, their expressions impatient, eager for the bloodshed to begin.

  Talon, their hawkish trainer, stood at the center, arms crossed as she surveyed the gathering. The class was huddled around her, some with uneasy expressions, but most had become seasoned assassins over the years. Their faces were now masks of stone, devoid of emotion, waiting for their next assignment like soldiers preparing for war. They were so few now, only fourteen left.

  When they had started, the training room had been overcrowded, packed with bodies. They had slept shoulder to shoulder on the floor, hungry, scared, and desperate to survive. But that was a long time ago. Now, each of them had their own bed. The others… well, the others were dead.

  Sid announced their presence with an exaggerated flourish. Every head turned to look at Thorne. Some faces showed joy, others curiosity, but most held thinly veiled hostility. Of course, Thorne thought with grim acceptance. He had never expected anything less.

  His eyes quickly found Vance and Rhea, huddled together as usual. Vance’s expression was blank, but when he caught Thorne’s gaze, he smiled, a friendly, almost welcoming smile. You snake, Thorne thought, his lips twitching into a cold smirk. He didn’t let any of his thoughts show, his Mask of Deceit was firmly in place the moment he had stepped foot into the lair. Old habits died hard.

  Rhea, on the other hand, couldn’t hide her emotions as well. Worry flickered in her eyes, and though she tried to mask it, Thorne saw it clear as day. Good, he thought. Let her worry. Soon enough, she’d have every reason to.

  Talon’s sharp eyes flickered over him before she turned back to the class, her expression hard and unyielding.

  “Tonight,” she began, her voice cold and commanding, “you face your final trial.”

  Her words sent a ripple through the group, though no one dared speak. Talon’s eyes swept across them, and for a moment, Thorne could feel her sizing each of them up, measuring their worth.

  “Once you pass this trial,” Talon continued, “you will be full members of the Lost Ones. No more classes, no more training. You will enjoy all the perks that come with membership, top-tier weapons and armor, a cut from each mission you complete successfully, and freedom to operate without oversight.”

  Thorne scanned the group, watching as the realization of what that meant slowly sank in. A few looked excited, anticipation gleaming in their eyes. But others were less enthusiastic. Their faces had hardened over the years, but beneath the stoic exteriors, there was unease.

  Talon’s gaze lingered on a boy named Cealan, Marcus’s best friend, who had always been one of the more outspoken members of the class. Cealan raised his hand, his face pinched with concern.

  “What will the trial be?” he asked, his voice a little too loud in the quiet chamber.

  Talon’s lips thinned at the interruption, her eyes narrowing. “If you haven’t figured it out by now,” she said coldly, “then I question your place in this guild.”

  Cealan shrank back, but Talon wasn’t finished.

  “The final trial,” she said, her voice cutting through the room like a blade, “is to fight each other.”

  A wave of silence fell over the room, the gravity of her words sinking in.

  “You will kill your friends,” Talon continued, her eyes cold and devoid of any sympathy. “Only one will leave the cage alive.”

  Thorne felt a bitter laugh rise in his throat. Of course, he thought. Of course, the last trial would be something like this. It makes perfect, twisted sense. A life to enter the guild, and now another life to become a full member. A full circle of death.

  There were a few murmurs of confusion, but most of the group was frozen in place. Their faces were unreadable, but their tension was palpable.

  Talon lifted a small leather pouch, shaking it slightly. “In here are your names,” she said, her tone cold. “When I call your name, you will enter the cage.”

  She looked around, her eyes meeting each of theirs in turn. “Only one of you will live. If you refuse to fight, you will be executed immediately.”

  There was a metallic clang, and a man entered the cage. Thorne didn’t recognize him, but he didn’t look armed. Still, Thorne knew better than to assume he was unarmed. Looks could be deceiving.

  Talon reached into the pouch, rifling through the slips of paper. She drew one out and unfolded it, her eyes scanning the name before she called out, “Cassandra.”

  The tall girl stood up, her face grim but determined. Thorne had known Cassandra for years. She had always been strong, confident, but now there was a weight to her steps as she made her way to the cage. One of her friends clapped her on the back, and Devon, her boyfriend, whispered something to her as she passed. His face was tight with worry.

  Cassandra entered the cage, gripping her spear tightly as she positioned herself inside. The metal door clanged shut behind her, trapping her inside the ring.

  Talon’s eyes swept over the group once more before she reached back into the pouch. Her fingers moved deliberately, drawing out another slip of paper.

  “And Cassandra’s opponent will be…” She unfolded the paper and paused for a fraction of a second before her lips curled into a slight smirk. “Devon.”

  The room went deathly silent.

  Thorne’s eyes immediately shot to Devon, whose face had drained of all color. His hands trembled as the horrible realization sank in. He was going to have to fight Cassandra. The girl he had been with for years. The girl who had turned a scared boy into the man standing before them now. He would have to kill her—or be killed by her.

  The moments dragged on, the tension unbearable. Devon and Cassandra stared at each other, their eyes locking in a silent exchange no one else could understand. They were communicating something, but whatever it was, it remained between them.

  Finally, Devon opened his mouth, his voice shaking as he whispered, “I refu...”

  Before he could finish, there was a flash of steel, and a bolt slammed into his eye, the point piercing through with brutal precision.

  The sound of the bolt hitting flesh echoed through the chamber, followed by the sickening thud of Devon’s body hitting the ground. His lifeless form crumpled, his blood pooling around him, staining the stone floor red.

  Gasps filled the room, but none were louder than Cassandra’s scream. It tore through the air, raw and broken, filled with a pain so deep it seemed to shake the very walls of the chamber. She dropped her spear, her hands flying to her mouth as she fell to her knees.

  Her cries were guttural, animalistic, as she rocked back and forth as though she could somehow undo what had just happened. Tears streamed down her face; her eyes focused on Devon’s lifeless body.

  Thorne stood frozen, his heart a cold, hard knot in his chest. The scene before him was one of pure, unfiltered agony, and yet... this was the way of the Lost Ones. This was their world.

  Cassandra’s wails filled the air, drowning out everything else. No one moved. No one spoke.

  The trial had begun.

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