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PREVIOUSLY...
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Azura snuck through the Empire and used her strange but sharp senses to find Captain Vasio, another assassin already having cornered the man, also sent by Palmira. Azura dispatched of the assassin, wanting to be the one to kill the captain. Vasio revealed the ambushes that he staged in Warroll were only to capture Azura.

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The first slash of my blade he dodges, his features set, not giving away his movements. I aim to finish this quickly and it should be easy without him armed. I've never been beyond cutting down an unarmed man or stabbing one in the back.

The next swipe of my blade whispers against his throat but doesn't touch his skin and I grit my teeth, gripping the weapon in two hands as he retreats back another step, bringing him closer to being pinned against the wall. But his eyes are watchful, dangerously observant.

I bring the blade down in an overhead swing and his hand catches my wrist. I don't even get to take a breath before the dagger on the desk is in his hand and sinking between my ribs. I look down at it, shock overwhelming the pain for a brief moment. I stare at my blood as it patters against the floorboards.

He pulls the dagger and I gasp as white lights of agony shoot up my side. The serrated edge of the dagger catches on my skin, tearing open the wound further. The blade is freed and I stagger back, my own weapon tumbling from my grip and clattering on the floor. More blood splatters the ground, pooling at my feet as I try to stop the flow.

"You're just a child, Azura," Vasio is saying, flicking my blood from his dagger. "But for whatever reason, Palmira and the emperor both want you for something."

I gulp in a breath, my side feeling as though molten is being dripped down it. My gaze scours my surroundings as Vasio inches closer, searching for the nearest weapon.

"I plan to deny them more tools they can use to destroy Rupteran."

My eyes move to him, those words squeezing my heart. How long has my brother told me to survive, no matter the cost? I'm going to die before I've even found my answers. It seems that all my life I've only ever been running towards death, but now that it's here...

Little flame.

I look down at my blood-coated gloves, the leather glistening. I've always done what I must for survival.

Born a monster.

I thrust out a hand, willing that fire to come forth, to burn away this pain and remind me that I'm not a weak child stumbling in the dark. I'm not just Palmira's tool. I have survived everything thrown at me. No mere man will kill me. Not with this flame in my veins.

I am powerful.

Vasio quirks a brow when nothing happens.

I stretch my fingers but whatever summoned that flame before doesn't rise.

No, don't fail me now.

Weak. Pathetic. You're nothing.

That's not true.

"What is it you're trying to do?" Vasio asks with a chuckle and his blatant disregard twists my stomach and brings my anger back. But it's still not enough.

I suck in a breath and dig my fingers into my side, a scream tearing from my lips as blood gushes to the floor and my fingers press into sinew and bone, ripping open my side further. Black tinges my vision, threatening to drag me down, but the pain is numbing, familiar, and blindingly bright as flame flickers on my fingertips.

It bursts from me, crawling from the deepest pits within my being to spew forth with sparks and curling flame. It roars and thunders around me, wrapping around my arm to spiral forth. It seems to crack my chest open and has me lurching forward with the force of it. Smoke swirls around me, invading my next breath to make me choke.

I scream as the fire pulls me apart and fuses me together, smelting me into something new. Then I'm tumbling, my knees thudding against the ground and my body tilting. I reach out, pressing my hands to the ground to stop my face from colliding with the floor as the roar of the flames die.

The smoke is a thick fog around me, suffocating, forcing its way into my lungs. Tears drip down my cheeks from my stinging eyes, bile rising in my throat. Another moment and I retch, vomit splattering the blackened ground. I cough and hurl, my shoulders shaking as I can't seem to stop my stomach from rejecting the contents inside. I spit and heave, trying to breathe.

I squint as a figure moves through the smoke, unaffected as it curls around them, embraces them. My eyes widen as Vasio stands, waving a hand through the swirls of black, a sygil on his palm already beginning to fade. The bastard shielded himself.

"You..." he says, as breathless as I am. "You're the same as him."

I want to ask him what he means by that, but my addled brain won't let words form on my lips.

"Who are your parents?"

In his confused state, I lurch away from him, stumbling to my feet and diving through the door as he shouts. I don't waste a moment in descending the spiralling staircase, clinging to the railing as my knees threaten to buckle.

"Azura!" Vasio shouts and I glance up as he begins following me down. That small distraction makes me lose my footing and I gasp as I fall. The sharp edge of the stairs digs into my side but I keep going, tumbling down the tower with grunts and cries, slamming into the stairs and the wall. I wrap my arms around my head, unable to do anything more as I crash through the railing, the wood splintering around me and I plummet.

Wind yanks my clothes and for a moment I'm weightless, able to draw in breath and feel every ache in my body. Then the ground slams into me, cracking ribs and shattering something in my arm that makes me scream, voice echoing up the tower.

I curl my knees to my chest, whimpering through the agony like a dying animal.

Get up.

The gravelly voice is a demanding growl in my ear, the only thing I hear over the war drum like pounding in my head.

Get up.

I sob, blood dribbling past my lips from where I must have bitten my tongue.

Keep going.

I close my eyes, willing this nightmare away, willing my simplicity back. The days where it was just Dax and I sharing our food, whispering our dreams about leaving Warroll behind and finding lives for ourselves. It was a dangerous hope to have, but there was nothing else to cling to. Now, not even that small hope of freedom is left inside me, snuffed out again and again.

Dax is gone.

Suri is gone.

I was too weak to save them. I was too weak to avenge them.

Little flame.

I pry my eyes open, blood staining my vision red from where it trickles into my right eye. But I still see him as I did the day he died.

My brother kneels before me, his ocean blue eyes raking over my broken form.

You never stop fighting.

His lips don't move, but his voice echoes around me, reassuring me that I'm not alone, that I'm never alone, not with his ghost keeping vigilant at my side.

You've lived through worse than this, little flame.

I clench my jaw and manage to shake my head, the movement making the edges of his figure blur and waver.

Get up. Get up and keep going, just like I taught you.

I want to tell him I can't, that this is where I finally die, but pain has a fist around my throat and refuses to let go.

Get up!

My brother reaches out, gripping the front of my bloodied sweater to sneer in my face.

You don't get the choice to give up. Not you, not my little flame.

I cry, the noise trembling past my lips, weak and pathetic. But it's something.

Get up!

With his voice in my head, thundering in my ears, I get a hand and my knees under me, my body screaming for me to lay back down and die. But dying has never been so easy for me.

I grit my bloodied teeth and—with a scream—stagger to my feet. My left arm hangs at my side, limp and useless with the bones fragmented under my skin. I pay it no mind even as the agony makes black splotches crowd my vision. I take a step forward with wheezing breaths escaping my lungs. Dizziness makes me tilt, nearly fall again, but I manage to shuffle forward and stay on my feet.

"Azura!"

I glance up and see Captain Vasio at the top of the spiralling staircase, his eyes wide as he looks down at me. I shouldn't leave him behind without ending his wretched life. I should push through this torment and cut his throat. It's what Dax is owed.

But my will to survive pushes me forward and I run, abandoning the tower and my vengeance.

I still need to save what's left of my dwindling energy to kill the emperor. None of this will matter if I don't succeed with at least that.

My senses don't betray me. They whisper in my ear, guide me through the halls, stretching fingers further than I can see in my stumbling state. Heartbeats are louder, breaths may as well be shouted, the stone is a living thing around me, ancient with eyes that have seen far too much. And there, beyond the sound of crickets in shrubbery, is something else.

I move towards that distant song, the faraway beat of something alive and thriving that calls to me.

Blood trails behind me, a constant trickle that makes the dark stone glisten. I grit my teeth, use the pain as my fuel, and don't look back, even as I hear stomping footsteps and the rattle of armour as the soldiers close in on me, herding me like a sheep, preparing me for slaughter.

I keep following that call.

I brace my hand on the wall, unable to move my other arm. The pain is becoming unbearable and the amount of blood that snakes behind me...

I slip into a room, shutting the door after me, sweat and blood dripping into my eyes. I stumble to a wall and crash against it, sliding to the floor, my legs giving way beneath me. I sit for a moment, blood pounding in my ears, my arm limp at my side.

Then I take a breath and reach over to peel my sleeve up. Tears swim in my vision as I reveal my arm and bile rises in my throat, thick and acidic. A cry falls from my lips to see the jagged white edge of bone protruding from the skin, blood welling around the wound in a steady stream that doesn't abate.

My gaze lifts to the ceiling as I choke on my breath. "Gods," I whimper, not sure whether I'm asking for aid or cursing whatever I can think of.

Without risking a glance at the gore of my arm lest I lose whatever contents are in my stomach, I tear a strip off my sweater and wrap it around my upper arm. My fingers tremble, the black leather slick with blood. I grip one end of the fabric between my teeth and clench my fingers around the other end, taking a steadying breath that does nothing to steady me. Anticipation makes sweat soak the hair on the back of my neck and slide down my spine.

I've healed from a cut throat before, I'm sure this will be fine.

The reassurance does nothing to ease the pain as I wrench the knot tight around my arm. A muffled scream begs to be spilled from my lips but I grind my molars together, tears dripping down my cheeks as the sizzling pain ebbs to a deep throb. I thump my head back on the wall, the bleeding slowing. But there's still bone sticking out of my arm and my stomach churns.

My brother showed me a lot of different ways to help myself. He showed me how to be prepared, and that included making certain I didn't die of my injuries. I heal fast, but only when I give my body the opportunity to rest. But this type of fracture... If I don't put the bone back into place then I worry it'll never heal properly, if at all.

Looking to the dark ceiling again, all I can do is mutter a curse. Then I grip my forearm and push against it. The pain and pressure is worse than the initial act of breaking it and for a moment my vision dims, blackens like a blanket has been tossed over my head. The world disappears for a moment as the jagged bone eases back into the skin. My boots scuff the floor like I can escape the pain, like I can scramble away from it. Agony crawls like Hell fire across my skin, nerves twitching up my side as I sob and wish for a different life.

I shouldn't be here. I should have left with Ari when I had a chance. I curse myself for believing that I need to discover more about myself. Now look where I am.

The bone disappears into my skin and I lurch forward with a pitiful moan. Vomit splashes the cold stone, dripping from my lips as I lean over, my entire body shaking.

"Fuck," I manage to whisper, pressing my heated cheek to the stone wall, the blessed coolness only a small respite.

I pull my sleeve back down, covering the open wound. I need to keep moving and now that the blood has stopped flowing like a stream from my arm, maybe I'll actually be able to see.

I huff out a breath and use the wall to get back to my feet, the bones in my legs wobbling. I cringe, not wanting to think about bones anymore.

I stay here for perhaps too long, just breathing in the musty air, wondering whether any of this is worth it. Is all this pain worth finding some disjointed answers that barely fit together? My fingers reach up into my sweater and touch the necklace still around my neck, the fiery stone warm against my skin. It's the only reminder I need to keep going.

I shove my hair from my face that sticks to the sweat on my skin before staggering forward, out of the room and back into the maze to follow that call, using the walls to keep myself standing, praying for strength.

I have a lot more fighting ahead of me if I have any hope of reaching the emperor.

I press close to the corner, holding my breath as someone comes closer, the clinking of the joints in their armour betraying them. They step around the corner and—with a cry—my boot shatters their knee. The man screams, dropping to the ground and reaching for his ruined knee. His sword clatters on the stone and I swipe it up before plunging it down into his neck. His eyes bulge as he chokes, but I don't watch him die. I yank the blade out and keep moving forward.

The next soldier rushes towards me with sweat beading on his brow and a quiver in his lip. I notice these things before I dive beneath his sword, roll to a knee and slice through the back of his legs. His screams dull the edge of my pain as I stumble away.

I spit blood from my lips as I push through heavy oak doors, the scent of vegetation overtaking the stench of blood for a brief moment. I stand in the doorway, clouds of breath puffing before my face. The answer to the call lies just beyond this courtyard, but my eyes narrow as swords are drawn and soldiers slip from the shadows.

This is the end.

My grip tightens on my bloodied weapon, each breath sending spikes of pain through my side. My toes curl in my boots, my throat constricts, every part of me prepares to run or fight as death looms before me.

This is the end.

I won't go down without a fight.

They strike like desperate vipers, decisive and agile. My weak points are clear and their fangs are bared for them. I dodge one blow, but fall into another. A fist slams into my cheek, a blade slices through my thigh, and everything is a whir around me. I blink blood from my eyes, raise my sword in one hand, and receive a knife in my back.

The pain is numbing now, a cooling balm as I fall to my hands and knees, surrounded by shifting shadows that I can't make out through the crimson in my vision.

My weapon. Where's my weapon?

Foolish girl.

The guttural growl in my ears has me bowing my head, offering my neck to whoever wishes to make the final blow.

This is the end.

The soft voice has accepted it, it's done fighting by my side, watching me continuously fail. It's done, and I'm done as the moon glints upon the blade that slices through the air, inches away from beheading me.

But there's the soft call again, a low hum in my ears, just out of reach, demanding my attention. I need to know what it is. I need to know if it's the emperor, if that song is why Palmira sent me here. I need to find answers.

I lift my hand. I call to the sparks that burn within my chest. And I scream. The fire isn't as wild this time. It encircles the blade, encases it in light and licking flame until the steel drips and pools on the ground, molten hot and sizzling. The soldier stumbles back, staring at the smoking hilt of his sword with wide eyes.

I scramble forward, avoiding the other steel that whispers against my neck. I fling out my hand again, sparks spitting from my palm into a soldier's eyes. He screams, clawing at his scorched eyes. I stretch my fingers towards the next soldier but nothing comes forth, the fire within me smothered as lethargy threatens to tug me into unconsciousness.

Before that can happen, I leap to my feet, seeing double of everything around me. But the soldiers are scattered, shaken by the display of power. I turn and run before they can recover, knowing that I can't hold out much longer. And that song is just ahead, growing louder with every step I take.

I slam through a door, closing it behind me and grab the first thing my hand falls upon. I shove the chair beneath the handle and step back, regaining my breath. It's only a matter of time before they break through that door.

But first...

I turn, the song sounding right behind me, and meet the gaze of a startled and withered man.