The tavern smelled of blood and sweat, the kind that clung to men who killed for coin. Kael pushed through the crowd, the weight of the enchanted chain coiled around his arm like a serpent. Across the room, the sorcerer sat draped in violet silks, oblivious to the danger closing in.
Kael struck fast. The chain snapped forward, its runes burning blue as it locked around the sorcerer’s throat. The man’s eyes went wide—his magic sputtered, useless against the artifact’s binding. But before Kael could tighten his grip, the sorcerer’s body collapsed into shadow, reforming behind him. A dagger whispered toward his ribs.
Kael twisted, letting the blade bite his side instead of his heart. With a roar, he yanked the chain back and it found flesh again, searing deep into the sorcerer’s throat. This time, the man had no counter.
As the magic drained from his body, Kael saw the mark branded on his foe’s wrist—the same as the one on his own. His brother.
The chain burned hot in his hands, and Kael pulled.
Leave a Reply