The rhythmic clatter of horse hooves against cobblestone fills the silence inside the carriage. The wheels churn slowly, and yet, after three hours of riding, my father has not spoken a single word to me. His silence weighs heavier than any reprimand. He sorts through a stack of papers, his expression unreadable, until he finally sets them aside and lifts his gaze.

  "Haley," his voice is steady, measured. "I know you believe I am disappointed in you. But today, when you faced Prince Alistair and let him win, you demonstrated restraint. That same restraint is what I need from you for what I'm about to ask."

  My mind races. Restraint? Was that what he saw? I had only held back because of his disapproving glare, and now he claims to be proud? Before I can dwell on it, he continues.

  "You are the only one I can trust with this task. Before I explain, I need your word—you will see it through and tell no one."

  His approval is something I have craved my entire life. If this is my chance to earn it, I won't hesitate. "Yes," I say without a second thought.

  "Good." He reaches beside him and hands me a black robe, a hood, a blade, and a map.

  I take them carefully. "What's this for?"

  His expression hardens. "My meeting with King Garland did not go as planned. He refuses any treaty and continues sending his soldiers into Kirk. If this does not stop, the entire land of Kirk will be at war with Desland. King Prest and King Creat are already preparing for battle. War is inevitable unless we act first."

  I glance at him sharply. "War? You're stronger than him. Why not crush him yourself?"

  "War is fought by men, not kings," he replies. "I will not waste my forces on a needless campaign when one well-placed strike will prevent it altogether."

  I grip the blade a little tighter. "So what do you need me to do?"

  "Tonight, before we reach Belfour City, you will eliminate the entire Garland bloodline. Quietly. Without mistake."

  I look out the window. By the rolling hills and mountains, we have about three hours left before we arrive home. Three hours before my life changes forever.

  "As young as you are, you are the most powerful mage in Kirk—perhaps even Desland outside of Zed. Your portal magic is unmatched. This is no small task, but I would not entrust it to you if I thought you were incapable."

  I exhale slowly. This is it. A real mission. A true test of my strength. A chance to prove myself—not just to my father, but to myself.

  But something gnaws at me. I've trained my whole life to fight, to win—but I've never taken a life before. It's easy to imagine the act in theory, but the reality of it? Slipping into someone's home in the dead of night, cutting down people who don't even see it coming? My fingers tighten around the hilt of the blade, but my chest feels strangely hollow.

  Could I really do this?

  I force the hesitation down. My father wouldn't send me if he didn't believe I could handle it.

  "I won't fail," I say.

  For the first time in hours, a small, satisfied smile touches his lips.

  "I know."

  "Rest village coming up ahead!" the lead driver calls out.

  My father barely reacts, his expression unreadable as he turns back to me. "You'll go now," he says, reaching into his coat. "I'll make sure no one disturbs this carriage. I'll tell them you're asleep and not to be bothered after your 'humiliating loss.'" He pulls out a small vial filled with a murky green liquid and places it in my palm. "This is a sedative. It won't kill, but it will put them into a deep hypnosis. If you hesitate—if you second-guess your kills—use this. Extract information. Plant doubt in their minds."

  His voice is calm, measured. Like he's sending me off on an errand. I tighten my grip around the vial, feeling the weight of what's to come.

  "Be safe," he adds before stepping out of the carriage. I hear his voice boom outside, ensuring no one will approach me.

  I exhale, steadying my breath, then slip on the black robe and hood. With the map open before me, I close my eyes and extend my senses. The world shifts—I feel the mana currents threading through the land, every presence like a flicker of light against the dark. I search through them, tracing the energy patterns until I find it.

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  The Garland Kingdom.

  I open my eyes. A portal crackles to life before me, dark and swirling. Steeling myself, I step through.

  The world bends, and in an instant, I'm inside enemy territory. The air is thick with the scent of burning oil lamps. Stone corridors stretch ahead, faint torchlight flickering against the walls. I move swiftly, silent as a shadow. My magic allows me to slip between gaps in patrols, phasing through doors without a sound. The guards are skilled, but none of them expect an assassin who can bend space itself.

  Alistair's chambers are easy to find. His mana presence is unmistakable—arrogant, crackling with barely contained energy. I press my back against the wall, listening. No movement.

  Perfect.

  I slip inside, and there he is—sleeping soundly, his breathing even.

  I stand over him, watching his chest rise and fall. The memory of his smug grin, the way he mocked me in front of the crowd—it all rushes back. My fingers tighten around the hilt of my blade. One clean strike, and it's over.

  But this isn't battle.

  This isn't an arena.

  He's defenseless.

  For the first time, doubt creeps in.

  I slide my hand into my pocket, feeling the cool glass of the vial. I could use it. Find out what he knows. Make him question his own kingdom.

  A soft shuffle from the hallway makes me freeze.

  Then—

  "Big brother?"

  The small voice barely carries through the room, but it stops me cold.

  A little girl, no older than six, peeks inside, clutching a stuffed rabbit to her chest. Her pale blue nightgown drags slightly on the floor as she hesitates. "Big brother, I'm scared."

  Alistair stirs. I react instantly, vanishing into the shadows. A small portal flickers, and I reappear—silent, unseen—clinging to the ceiling beams above.

  Alistair groans, rubbing his face. "Scared of what?" His voice is thick with sleep.

  The girl steps closer, hugging her rabbit. "I had a bad dream... You were acting weird in it." She pauses, looking at him closely, then frowns. "You still seem weird."

  I watch from above, gripping the wooden beam. My heart pounds. If he notices something is off, my mission could be compromised.

  He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Go back to bed, Elsie."

  "But—"

  "Now," he says, softer this time.

  She hesitates but nods, turning to leave.

  I wait until the door clicks shut before I move. My plan needs to change.

  Silently, I slip out of the room.

  Should I kill Prince Alistair and his younger sister?

  Father told me to wipe out the bloodline, but standing here, watching a child clutch onto her brother for protection, I hesitate. Alistair was arrogant, cruel even, but his sister? She's innocent. Would killing her make me any different from a butcher?

  I tighten my grip on the sedative vial. I could kill him now, complete my mission, but something nags at me. If I take out the King and Queen instead, the entire kingdom will be thrown into political chaos. Without leadership, their nobles will scramble for power, and Desland might abandon their ambitions before war even begins. That could be the smarter move.

  But would my father approve of that deviation? Would he see it as strategy—or failure?

  I take a slow breath, steadying my thoughts. I need to be careful. If I kill Alistair now, I'll have no leverage, no way to twist this situation to my advantage. If I take out the King and Queen first, I might be able to control what happens next.

  A change of plans is in order. I slip back into the shadows, my mind made up. Tonight, the rulers of the Garland Kingdom will fall—but their children? That decision will come later.

  "Hey, you!" a man's voice calls from behind me.

  I freeze, every muscle in my body tensing.

  The man stands about 5'10", dressed in a similar outfit to mine. Another assassin? A guard for the Garland Kingdom? My fingers twitch toward the daggers hidden in my pocket, ready to end this with one clean throw to the throat and another to the heart.

  But instead of drawing his weapon, he simply grins. "Wow, you're really in character, huh? Well, the more believable, the better."

  I don't lower my guard. He doesn't look afraid—even with my blades half-drawn.

  "We need you back with the rest of the group," he continues, motioning for me to follow. "In five minutes, the next performance of Garland Nights starts. Just stick with me."

  The words Garland Nights mean nothing to me, but I nod, careful not to speak. My voice could give me away.

  I follow him through the crowded square, my senses on high alert. Every step I take, I calculate possible escape routes. If something goes wrong, I'll have to cut through at least fifteen people before I can reach the treeline. A single portal will get me to the eastern part of the palace chambers, but I'll need time to cast it. Time I may not have.

  Beside me, the man—Kane, as he soon introduces himself—keeps talking. "I can tell you're nervous. Honestly, so am I. Reenacting Garland Nights is an honor. Took me four years to get cast, even if I'm just a background character." He laughs, as if expecting me to share in his excitement.

  I remain silent.

  "Do you not talk much?"

  I shake my head.

  "That's fine," he shrugs. "Anyway, it's simple. Just follow the main characters around on stage and copy their movements a little late. We represent the 'shadows' King Garland used in battle when he conquered this kingdom."

  That makes me pause.

  Shadows?

  Father never mentioned King Garland possessing any power like that. If this play is based on real history, then I may have severely underestimated my target. If he truly had supernatural forces backing him, he might not be as easy to kill as I assumed.

  "Without those shadows," Kane continues, "Garland wouldn't have won."

  "What do you think?"

  I force a nod to keep up the act. But my mind is racing.

  What are these shadows? Magic? An elite unit of warriors? If Garland still possesses them, this assassination is no longer simple.

  "Okay, we're up," Kane says as we reach the stage entrance.

  From the other side of the curtain, the announcer's voice booms across the square:

  "Next up, Garland Nights! Performed by the students of the School of Garland!"

  The audience erupts in cheers.

  As the curtains begin to part, I step onto the stage, my heartbeat steady but my mind sharp. I have two choices:

  Play along and uncover the truth about these shadows.

  Or disappear before anyone realizes I was never meant to be here.

  Either way, my mission just got more complicated.