Shadow Heir
If they took it, they’d cut the head off the defense.
He broke from the main fight, Arwyn at his heels. They reached the passage just as the assassin slipped inside. The room beyond was dark except for the fire pit’s dull glow.
“Close the door,” Eolan said.
Arwyn obeyed, cutting off the hall’s noise. The assassin’s voice came from the shadows: “You’ve made it easy for us, Shadow Heir.”
The name chilled him. No one here had called him that—not aloud.
“You know what you are,” the assassin continued. A flicker of movement, then the glint of steel. “And you know we can’t let you live.”