The Dying Arcane

The journey east was silent, save for the distant howl of the wind and the crunch of boots against uneven terrain. Ronan and Shira moved swiftly, keeping to the shadows where the remnants of ruined buildings shielded them from view.

The Black Guard's outpost lay ahead—a grim fortress of steel and stone, its walls reinforced with salvaged machinery. Unlike the crumbling ruins of Black Hollow, this place pulsed with life. Towering floodlights bathed the perimeter in a cold, artificial glow, casting long shadows over the desolate wasteland.

From their vantage point atop a ridge, Ronan could see heavily armed sentries patrolling the entrance. Unlike the standard soldiers he had fought before, these warriors bore technological enhancements—metallic gauntlets crackling with energy, visors scanning the night for intruders.

Shira crouched beside him, her gaze sharp. "This won't be easy. The Black Guard has upgraded since the last time we ran into them."

Ronan studied the layout carefully. A frontal assault was suicide, but there were other ways in. His eyes locked onto a section of the outer wall where the shadows ran deep. A possible blind spot.

"There," he pointed. "That section isn't as well guarded. If we move fast, we can get over without raising the alarm."

Shira followed his gaze and nodded. "Getting in is one thing. Finding the traitor is another."

"We'll make them talk," Ronan said, his voice colder than steel.

Without another word, they descended the ridge, slipping through the night like wraiths. The guards remained oblivious as Ronan and Shira pressed against the outer wall, listening for movement.

A moment later, Ronan signaled, and they scaled the structure. His fingers found purchase on the cracked stone, muscles tensing as he pulled himself up. Shira followed effortlessly, her movements as fluid as ever.

They reached the top, crouching low as they surveyed the courtyard below. Soldiers moved in tight formations, their weapons glinting under the harsh lights. The air hummed with the sound of machinery—drones patrolling the perimeter, scanning for any sign of intruders.

Shira tapped Ronan's shoulder and gestured toward a central tower. "That's where they keep their high-ranking officers. If there's a traitor in the Brotherhood, they'll be in there."

Ronan nodded. The plan was simple: get in, extract the truth, and leave no witnesses.

Moving like shadows, they dropped silently onto the walkway below, staying low as they navigated the maze of steel and stone. Every step was calculated, every breath measured.

They reached the base of the tower. A single guard stood at the entrance, his weapon resting lazily at his side. A mistake.

Before he could react, Ronan surged forward, wrapping an arm around the man's throat and dragging him into the darkness. The struggle was brief. A sharp twist, a muffled snap, and the guard went limp.

Shira smirked. "Still efficient, I see."

Ronan didn't respond. There was no time for words.

They slipped inside the tower, ascending the spiraling staircase in silence. As they neared the top, voices echoed through the halls.

"—Malakar doesn't trust you."

A second voice, lower and measured, replied, "He doesn't need to. As long as he gets what he wants, I get what I was promised."

Ronan's blood ran cold. He knew that voice.

Shira's eyes narrowed. "That's—"

Ronan kicked the door open.

Inside, a man stood near a console, dressed in the dark robes of the Brotherhood, though now adorned with cybernetic enhancements. His eyes widened in shock as he turned to face them.

"Talon."

The traitor smirked. "Ronan. You finally figured it out."

Ronan's grip tightened on his blade. "I should have known you were a snake."

Talon chuckled. "And yet, here I am. Alive. While the rest of the Brotherhood rots."

Ronan took a step forward, his fury barely restrained. "Why?"

Talon spread his arms, his cybernetic fingers gleaming in the dim light. "Because magic is dying, Ronan. You know it. I know it. Malakar is the future. You were all just too blind to see it."

Ronan's vision blurred with rage. The man he once fought beside had betrayed everything they stood for.

Shira unsheathed her daggers. "Enough talking."

Talon smirked. "Agreed."

He pressed a button on the console.

Alarms blared.

The room filled with flashing red light as doors slammed shut behind them. From the shadows, armored guards emerged, weapons aimed.

Ronan clenched his jaw. The trap had been set.

And now, they had to fight their way out.