"Kayden, wake up. We need to move."
The voice cut through his dreamless sleep like a blade. Kayden's eyes fluttered open, finding the familiar silhouette of his teacher against the morning light. Maria stood over him, her crimson hair catching the early sunlight that filtered through their makeshift camp. Even in travel-worn leather armor, she commanded attention—sharp green eyes, pale skin that seemed to glow in the dawn, and an expression that brooked no argument.
He groaned, rolling off the thin camping mat that had served as his bed. Every muscle in his body protested the movement. "I heard you the first time."
"Did you? Because you're still lying there like a corpse." Maria's tone carried that familiar edge of irritation mixed with something softer—concern maybe, though she'd never admit it. "We're meeting the Ignarion noble today. You remember that conversation we had yesterday, don't you?"
Kayden pushed himself upright, running his hands through his disheveled dark hair. "Of course I remember. You've only mentioned it a hundred times." He winced as he stretched, joints popping audibly. "And you weren't exactly whispering just now."
Maria's eyebrow arched dangerously. "Two things, apprentice. First, that's not how you address your teacher. Second, I wasn't shouting—trust me, you'll know when I'm shouting."
The morning sun painted everything in shades of gold as Kayden finally stood, unconsciously stretching his arms above his head. Seven years of training had transformed the broken boy Maria had found into something else entirely. His shoulders had broadened, his frame filled out with lean muscle earned through countless hours of practice and hardship.
Maria glanced at him for a moment before tossing a clean shirt at his chest. "Enough admiring. Get dressed in."
Kayden caught the shirt with a sigh that spoke of too many early mornings just like this one. As he pulled it over his head, his hand instinctively went to his side where his obsidian-black sword rested in its sheath. The weight of it had become as natural as breathing.
"Where's Carla?" he asked, scanning their small campsite nestled between a cluster of ancient oak trees.
Maria's jaw tightened a bit. "Down by the stream. If she's not back in ten minutes, we leave without her."
"Right." Darian buckled his sword belt, the familiar routine grounding him. "You'd actually do it too, wouldn't you?"
"Try me."
That was Maria....direct, uncompromising, exactly as she'd been the day they first met. Some things never changed, and in a world that seemed to shift beneath their feet daily, Darian found an odd comfort in her presence.
---
*Seven years ago...*
"So you're the little brat she chose."
Kayden looked up from where he sat slumped against a crumbling stone wall, every part of his body screaming in pain. Through swollen eyes, he saw a woman in black leather, a sword at her hip, studying him like he was some curiosity she'd found in the gutter.
"Who the hell are you?" His voice cracked. Partly from the beating he'd taken, partly because he was still more boy than man then.
The woman's lips curved into something that might have been a smile if it had held any warmth. "A bit rude for someone addressing their new teacher, don't you think?"
"Teacher?" Kayden tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a wheeze. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. "I don't even know who you are, lady."
She crouched down to his level, and Kayden could see her more clearly now. Red hair pulled back in a practical braid, green eyes that seemed to take in everything, and a face that was beautiful in a dangerous sort of way. But it was the way she looked at him that caught his attention. Not with pity, but with something like recognition.
"You will," she said simply. "But first, I need that amulet."
The words hit him like a physical blow. Kayden's hand went instinctively to his chest, where the small pendant hung beneath his torn and bloodied shirt. The last thing his mother had given him before... before everything went wrong.
"No." The word came out stronger than he felt. "Whatever you want, forget it."
"Come on." She held out her hand, palm up. "Just place it here. This doesn't have to be difficult."
Kayden struggled to his feet, swaying slightly but managing to stay upright. "I don't know what game you're playing, but I'm not interested. Find someone else to rob."
He turned to walk away, though he had nowhere to go. No home, no family, no future. But he had the amulet, and he'd die before he gave it up.
"Your mother told you someone would come for it, didn't she?"
The words stopped him in his tracks. Slowly, he turned back to face her, and she must have seen something in his expression because her own face softened slightly.
"How do you know about that?" His voice was barely above a whisper.
"Because I'm the person she told you about."
For a long moment, they stared at each other. Kayden wanted to disbelieve her—it would be easier, safer. But there was something in her eyes, a certainty that made his doubt waver.
"Prove it," he said finally.
Without hesitation, she reached for the zipper of her leather jacket. Kayden's face flushed red despite his injuries as she pulled it down, revealing the pale skin of her chest. But then he saw it—the mark tattooed just above her heart. A dragon surrounded by three interlocking circles, with a small red symbol at its center.
He'd seen that mark before. On his mother's skin, in the same place. She'd always dismissed his questions about it, claiming it was a youthful mistake. But here it was again, identical in every detail.
"Seen enough?" Maria asked, zipping her jacket back up.
Kayden looked away, his face burning. "You... you knew my mother."
"I did." Her voice was gentler now. "And if you come with me, I can tell you about her past. About that amulet. About why she gave it to you."
The offer hung in the air between them like a lifeline. Everything Kayden had wondered about, all the questions his mother had deflected or ignored—this stranger claimed to have answers.
"Why should I trust you?" he asked.
"Because," she said, and now her voice held a note of something that might have been kindness, "starving to death in an alley isn't much of a future. And that stomach of yours is making enough noise to wake the dead."
As if summoned by her words, his stomach growled loudly. It'd been about two to three days or so since he'd eaten anything substantial.
Kayden closed his eyes, weighing his options. Trust a stranger who claimed to know his mother, or die slowly on the streets. When he put it like that, the choice seemed obvious.
"Fine," he said finally. "But just until I figure out what this is all about."
"Fair enough." She stood, brushing dust from her leather pants. "I'm Maria Aurora."
"Kayden."
"Well, Kayden," she said, and this time her smile seemed genuine. "Let's get you fed. Then we'll talk."
---
*Present day...*
The rhythmic sound of hoofbeats filled the air as they rode toward their destination. Kayden sat astride his horse with the easy confidence of someone who'd spent years in the saddle, while Maria and Carla flanked him on either side.
"Do you really think they'll agree to this?" Carla asked, adjusting the bow slung across her back. She wore forest green that complemented her auburn hair, and despite her youth, there was a sharpness to her gaze that spoke of hard-won experience. "What we're proposing... it's not exactly in their best interests."
Kayden urged his horse faster, eager to reach their destination. "Then we'll have to make them an offer they can't refuse, won't we?"
Maria remained silent, but he could feel her studying him from the corner of her eye. After seven years, she could read his moods better than anyone, and right now she probably sensed the tension coiling in his shoulders.
The mansion appeared before them like something from a fever dream—massive stone walls, ornate gates, and towers that seemed to scrape the sky. Everything about it screamed wealth and excess.
"Look at this place," Carla muttered as they approached the gates. "These bastards sure know how to spend stolen money."
"We're about to make a deal with them," Kayden pointed out as a butler in pristine livery approached to escort them inside. "What does that make us?"
The question hung unanswered as they were led through corridors lined with tapestries and paintings worth more than most people saw in a lifetime. Eventually, they were shown into a sitting room where a butler informed them that the master would join them shortly.
Rufus Wainwright III arrived exactly as Kayden had expected. A man whose comfortable life was written in every line of his soft features. His purple tunic strained slightly across his protruding belly, and his pale hands looked like they'd never known a day of honest work. The yellow bow tie at his throat was probably worth more than most families earned in a year.
Everything about the man made Kayden's jaw clench, but he forced himself to remain calm. They needed this alliance, distasteful as it might be.
The three visitors offered respectful bows—shallow enough to maintain dignity, deep enough to avoid offense. Rufus waved them to their seats with the casual arrogance of someone accustomed to deference.
"I assume you're the ones who sent the payment?"
"Yes," Kayden said. "We figured that'd get your attention."
"It did. So, speak. What business do outsiders have with House Wainwright?" Rufus said, reaching for a plate of delicate pastries.
Kayden settled into the chair across from their host, Maria and Carla taking positions behind him like silent sentinels. "I'll be direct, Lord Wainwright. We're here with a business proposition."
"Oh?" Rufus paused in his reaching for another pastry, his small eyes focusing on Kayden with sudden interest. "And what sort of business could outsiders possibly have with me?"
"The kind that could make us all very wealthy," Kayden said, leaning forward slightly. "Or very dead, depending on how things go."
The nobleman's eyebrows rose, but he said nothing, waiting for Kayden to continue.
"We want to start a rebellion."