Matrim’s boots scraped against the edge of the stone well as he prepared to follow the Guardian into the depths. The leyline’s hum grew louder, resonating in his chest, urging him downward. He glanced over his shoulder one last time at the grove cloaked in moonlight, the garden’s usual serenity now warped by the unease pulsing beneath them.

  Then he heard it.

  The low, deliberate sound of someone clearing their throat—followed by the unmistakable hiss of a blade leaving its sheath.

  “Going somewhere?” came a familiar, cold voice from the treeline.

  Matrim’s stomach sank as he turned to see Captain Vaelor stepping into the clearing, clad in full ceremonial armor. His silver-and-gold breastplate gleamed beneath the fractured light, but it was the smirk on his face that sent Matrim’s pulse spiking.

  Flanking him were two more Guardians, their helms obscuring their expressions, but their posture radiated readiness. Vaelor’s blade rested casually at his side, but the threat was clear.

  “You should’ve stayed in your cell,” Vaelor sneered, his voice dripping with venom. “But I must admit, you’ve made this much more entertaining.”

  Matrim’s fists clenched at his sides, his every instinct screaming to move, to fight—but the Guardian beside him hadn’t drawn her sword. Instead, she stepped forward slowly, eyes locked on Vaelor.

  “Stand down,” she commanded, voice steady but tense. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

  Vaelor’s gaze flicked from her to Matrim and back again. “Isn’t it?” His voice was mocking. “Because it looks to me like you’ve just broken an oath.”

  The accusation landed like a slap, but Narianna didn’t flinch. “You don’t know what you’re interfering with.”

  “Oh, I think I do.” Vaelor’s tone darkened, stepping closer as the other Guardians moved to encircle them. “I’ve seen how you’ve been since he arrived—questioning the council, slipping away after dark. This isn’t just about him, is it? It’s about what you’ve been hiding.”

  “I’ve been doing my duty,” she snapped.

  Vaelor’s expression twisted with amusement. “Your duty? Since when does a Guardian free a prisoner and lead them to sacred ground?”

  Matrim tensed, eyeing the distance between Vaelor’s soldiers and the well. Too many of them. No cover.

  Narianna’s hand hovered near her sword but didn’t draw it. “You don’t understand—”

  “No,” Vaelor interrupted, voice low and sharp. “You don’t.”

  His hand lifted, signaling the soldiers to step closer, tightening the noose around them.

  “You’re outnumbered,” Vaelor said smugly to Matrim. “And you,” his gaze snapped to Narianna, voice laced with betrayal, “are out of chances.”

  Matrim’s grip curled into fists. “You really think locking me up again is going to stop this?” He gestured toward the glowing well. “You don’t feel that? You don’t hear it beneath your damn feet?”

  Vaelor sneered. “All I hear is an outsider who should’ve been put to the sword the moment he crossed the walls.”

  Matrim’s pulse spiked as he took a subtle step closer to the Guardian beside him. “We can’t fight all of them,” he muttered under his breath.

  She nodded once, barely perceptible.

  Vaelor stepped forward, blade raised slightly, eyes hard. “You’ll surrender. Both of you. And I’ll make sure the council knows just how far you’ve fallen.”

  “And if we refuse?” Narianna asked, her voice controlled but cold.

  Vaelor grinned. “Then I’ll be the one to remind you what happens to traitors.”

  The charged silence between them stretched thin.

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  Matrim’s breath slowed as his focus narrowed. The pull from the ley lines beneath the well buzzed violently, urging him to act. But the cold reality pressed down on him—too many blades, too many eyes. They were pinned.

  Narianna’s crimson eyes flicked toward Matrim for a brief second, and he understood. Not yet.

  She slowly raised her hands, stepping away from the well. “We surrender.”

  Vaelor’s smirk widened. “Wise.”

  Matrim raised his hands reluctantly, feeling every instinct in his body fighting against it. But the Guardian next to him remained composed, even as the soldiers moved to surround them fully.

  As Vaelor approached to cuff Narianna himself, he leaned in close, voice low and venomous. “When I drag you back before the council, I’ll make sure they see how far their ‘commander’ has strayed.”

  But Narianna’s gaze remained locked on the well behind him, her expression steeled and calculating.

  Matrim followed her eyes, heart pounding.

  This isn’t over.

  Matrim’s breath slowed as he raised his hands. His muscles twitched, every fiber of his body urging him to draw steel—but without his sword and surrounded by steel-clad Guardians, it would be suicide. He locked eyes with the crimson-eyed Guardian beside him. She was calm, but he could see it—the flicker of a plan behind her stillness.

  Vaelor, savoring every second, strode forward, his soldiers moving to flank them both. His smug grin deepened as he reached for the manacles on his belt.

  Matrim barely heard the words Vaelor spat in Narianna’s face. His mind was elsewhere—on the well.

  The leyline pulse beneath his feet was now a steady roar, vibrating through his bones, whispering promises in a language older than words. His heartbeat synced with it, thudding in time with the unseen rhythm beneath the garden.

  His vision blurred for a split second, distorting as though reality itself warped around him. His skin prickled as something ancient rose to the surface, unbidden.

  The hum wasn’t just beneath the well anymore—it was inside him.

  What is this?

  As one of Vaelor’s soldiers moved to grab him, Matrim’s instincts screamed. The instant the man’s gauntleted hand clamped around his forearm, the power inside him surged like a tidal wave breaking free.

  The air warped.

  With a sharp crack of energy, Matrim’s body arced with threads of green and gold light, the colors of ancient leyline magic. The force erupted outward in a violent shockwave.

  The two nearest soldiers were flung backward like ragdolls, smashing into the garden’s stone walls with a crash. The enchanted steel of their armor sparked as they hit the ground hard, groaning in pain.

  The ground beneath Matrim fractured in a spiderweb pattern, roots and earth shifting beneath his boots.

  Vaelor’s eyes widened as he stumbled back, blade raised.

  “What in the—”

  Before he could finish, a second pulse rippled from Matrim’s body, sending a gust of raw energy through the clearing. Dust and leaves spiraled into the air as the leyline beneath them reacted in tandem.

  Matrim staggered, clutching at the well’s edge as the surge threatened to tear through him. His vision swam—flashes of ancient forests, crumbling temples, and veins of light running beneath the earth flickered behind his eyes.

  The Guardian beside him moved swiftly, stepping between Matrim and Vaelor. She had drawn her blade now, her breathing sharp but controlled.

  “Matrim!” she snapped, voice cutting through the haze.

  His name—spoken aloud—grounded him. Slowly, the wild surge lessened, but the charge in the air remained thick, crackling faintly across the clearing.

  Matrim gritted his teeth, his breath ragged as he fought to stay upright.

  Vaelor, recovering quickly, snarled. “What did you do to him?”

  The crimson-eyed Guardian didn’t answer. Her stance shifted subtly—defensive now, blade angled low but ready.

  Matrim forced himself to his feet fully, though the pulse still coursed through his limbs. “I... I didn’t mean to,” he muttered, shaking his head as if to clear the lingering visions.

  The remaining Guardians hesitated, eyes darting to Vaelor for direction. The sudden display of uncontrolled magic rattled even them.

  Vaelor’s blade trembled in his grip before he steadied it, rage flashing in his eyes. “You’ve tapped into forbidden magic,” he hissed at Matrim. “The council will have your head for this.”

  Matrim wiped sweat from his brow. “Yeah, I’m starting to think they wanted it anyway.”

  “You don’t know what you’ve unleashed!” Vaelor barked. “The leylines—”

  “I didn’t unleash anything,” Matrim snapped back, voice raw. “It’s been inside this city longer than I’ve been breathing.”

  Narianna didn’t speak, but Matrim could see it in her eyes. She was watching him closely, calculating, understanding.

  She knows.

  Vaelor took a tense step forward. “Seize them.”

  His remaining soldiers advanced cautiously, eyes flicking between Matrim’s still-crackling aura and their commander’s order.

  Matrim shifted his stance, ready to unleash whatever power was still building inside him. But before either side could move, Narianna raised a hand.

  “No,” she commanded, her voice echoing in the clearing.

  The soldiers froze mid-step.

  Vaelor turned toward her, incredulous. “You dare—”

  Her blade pointed directly at Vaelor’s chest. “I dare.”

  For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then Vaelor’s lips curled into a sneer. “Traitor.”

  Matrim’s breath hitched as he felt the choice solidify around them like ice. The lines had been drawn.

  Narianna didn’t flinch. “You’re blind, Vaelor. To him, to the ley lines, to everything happening beneath your feet.”

  Vaelor’s blade rose slightly. “You’ve doomed yourself.”

  Her voice hardened. “You don’t have the authority to make that call.”

  “Neither do you,” Vaelor growled.

  The leyline beneath them pulsed again, as if responding to the confrontation.

  Matrim’s breath steadied, the energy within him coiling like a spring, waiting.

  The air between them was about to snap.