Fire and Onyx

Shards of glass showered over them, sparkling in the dim light. From the street outside, four figures dressed in cloaks of living shadow leaped through the shattered storefront. The assassins had tracked the magical pulse.

They drew curved, venom-laced blades, their eyes glowing with lethal intent.

Hazel screamed as one of the assassins lunged toward the parlor door.

But Alaric was no longer the invalid in the cable-knit sweater. He was the Immortal King.

He rose from the floor, and the shadows in the room rose with him. The warm, cozy fire in the hearth was instantly snuffed out, replaced by a freezing, terrifying darkness. Alaric extended his hand, and the shadows solidified into physical tendrils.

With a brutal, effortless flick of his wrist, the tendrils shot forward, impaling the first two assassins through the chest. They disintegrated into black ash before they even hit the floorboards.

The remaining two assassins hesitated, fear radiating from them. Alaric didn't give them a moment to retreat. He crossed the room with inhuman speed, catching one by the throat and snapping it with a sickening crunch. The last assassin turned to run, but Alaric’s shadow-blade materialized in his hand, and he threw it, pinning the creature to the heavy oak door.

Silence fell over the ruined shop, broken only by the sound of rain pouring through the shattered windows.

Alaric turned back to Hazel. He was terrifying. Covered in the ash of his enemies, his silver eyes glowing with a violent, predatory fury.

He looked at her ruined sanctuary—the crushed chamomile tins, the shattered glass, the broken door. The assassins knew where she was. They knew she was his weakness.

"We have to leave," Alaric said, his voice cold and commanding. He strode toward her, scooping her up into his arms as easily as if she weighed nothing.

"Wait, my shop!" Hazel cried, clutching his broad shoulders. "Where are we going?"

"You are not safe in the mortal realm. Not anymore," Alaric stated. He raised his hand, slicing the air. Reality tore open, revealing a swirling portal of pitch-black energy. "I am taking you to the Keep."

He stepped through the void, and the warm, cinnamon-scented world of Hazel’s life vanished.