All Chapters of The magic within : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Killian hit the ground hard on the far side of the city wall, rolled, and came up running.The field beyond was a patchwork of frost and black soil, the moonlight sharp enough to cut. The Wardens’ shouts were already spilling over the parapets, and their silver-tipped bolts hissed through the night air.He veered toward the treeline, letting the forest swallow him.His shoulder burned from the bolt lodged there, the silver working like slow poison in his veins. He kept running until the city’s glow was just a smear between the trees.Then the forest floor dropped away.He slid down a bank of wet clay and landed in a hollow cut deep into the earth. At its center, a narrow stairway spiraled down into blackness.Killian hesitated. Any sane man would’ve turned back. But sanity hadn’t kept him alive this long.He descended.The air grew damp and cold as he went, the smell of moss giving way to the scent of old stone… and blood. Not fresh. Not rotting. Somewhere in between — the cloyi

The siege didn’t end so much as bleed out.The Wardens’ last push collapsed under the weight of their own losses. Their bodies littered the main tunnel, silver blood mixing with the darker pools of the guild’s fallen. The air hung heavy — copper, ash, and the lingering tang of Killian’s magic.He stood among the wreckage, chest heaving, his coat torn and blackened in places where silver had scorched through. The crossbow bolt still jutted from his shoulder, but the burning was less now — either the poison was wearing off, or it was finishing the job.Harlow emerged from the shadows, blades dripping, eyes sharp. “You fight better than you look,” she said.Killian didn’t answer. His thoughts were still on the cloaked figure — those amber eyes flashing at him from the vault.“You followed me,” she said, her tone casual but her gaze fixed.“You ran in the middle of a fight,” Killian replied. “That makes me curious.”A small smile touched her lips. “Curiosity can get you killed here.

Midnight in the lower tunnels was different.Quieter, yes — but not safe.The air was damp enough to taste, carrying faint echoes from distant chambers: a clink of glass, the shuffle of feet, the muted drip of water. Somewhere, a door creaked open and shut. The guild never truly slept.Killian moved like a shadow himself, hugging the walls, avoiding the pools of torchlight. His shoulder ached with every step, but his mind was fixed on the note.They lied about your parents.It wasn’t the words that shook him — it was the thumbprint. Amber.The north well wasn’t a well at all, but a vertical shaft drilled deep into the bedrock, water glistening far below. An old rope winch and rusted pulley stood beside it, unused for years.The cloaked figure waited near the edge, hood drawn low.“You came,” the voice said — low, almost cautious.“Not much choice,” Killian replied.The figure stepped closer, and moonlight filtering through the grate above caught their face. The hood shadowed

The alarm bell wasn’t a sound so much as a pulse.It throbbed through the stone walls, set the torch flames trembling, and drove the guild into motion.Killian knew the rhythm — three quick tolls, one long. That wasn’t a warning. That was a breach.Harlow’s voice cut through the chaos.“All fighters to the outer ring! Move!”Enforcers swarmed past him, armor half-fastened, blades bare, eyes wide. Someone shoved a crate of blood vials into the arms of a courier and shouted for them to get to the vault.Carter Benton appeared at Killian’s side, eyes sharp, daggers spinning idly in his fingers.“Whatever you did in those tunnels,” he said, “it brought company.”Killian didn’t reply. He couldn’t — because in the back of his mind, he was replaying the amber eyes, the impossible speed, the word cousin.They reached the main gate tunnel just as the first explosion hit.Stone dust rained from the ceiling. The outer doors — heavy iron plated with oak — were cracked inward, smoking from

The Wardens moved in perfect formation — four lines, staggered, their mirrored masks catching the pale moonlight.Each carried a crossbow already loaded with silvered bolts; each step forward was deliberate, as if they were closing an iron trap.Snow crunched under Killian’s boots as he backed toward the slope. Shadows curled at his fingertips, ready to lash.“Varrow wants you breathing,” the lead Warden called, voice filtered through the mask. “Don’t make us ruin that for him.”Killian smiled without humor. “Tell him I don’t take appointments.”They fired.The first volley hissed through the air, silver edges gleaming. Killian dropped low, shadows whipping up around him in a solid wall. The bolts hit, sizzling against his magic like acid on steel, the impact shoving him back a step.The Wardens reloaded with machine precision.He lunged for the left flank.The first Warden swung his crossbow like a club; Killian ducked under it, driving a spike of shadow through the man’s thigh. The