The underground entrance gaped like a tomb's mouth, dark memories of my own imprisonment there weeks ago flashing through my mind. Through the chaos of battle, I caught Obiageli's silhouette on a raised platform, her bow singing death's song. Bodies dropped before me like rain-heavy leaves – each arrow finding its mark with devastating precision.

"Go!" she shouted above the storm, loosing three arrows in rapid succession. Each found a throat, clearing my path. "I'll hold them!"

I sprinted forward, ducking under an Ashangi's blade. The assassin's silver mask caught the lamplight as they moved to pursue, but one of Obiageli's arrows found the gap between mask and wrapping. They fell, black cloth billowing like smoke.

The tunnel's entrance bore the same musty smell I remembered from my imprisonment – earth and old blood and secrets. Behind me, Obiageli's arrows continued their deadly work, buying me time. An Ashangi leaped from the shadows, their blade whistling toward my neck. I dropped into a roll, feeling the air displacement above my head, then came up with my machete scoring across their wrapped legs. As they staggered, another arrow appeared in their chest – Obiageli's aim true even in the chaos.

"The Onowu's down there!" she called out between shots. "Saw him dragging someone when the attack began!"

The tunnel beckoned, its darkness promising answers and vengeance. The Igwe had to be down there – and with him, the onowu who had watched Rimi die with a smile. I paused at the entrance, glancing back at Obiageli. She stood like a goddess of war, silhouetted by lightning, her bow dealing death to any who dared approach.

"Go!" she commanded again, dropping two more guards with a single arrow. "I've got this!"

I nodded once and plunged into the darkness, leaving the storm and battle behind. The tunnel's close walls pressed in, familiar as a nightmare. Somewhere ahead, destiny waited with sharp teeth – just as Nne Ogwu had foreseen.

The sounds of combat faded, replaced by the soft drip of water and my own careful footsteps. My machete remained ready, its blade still wet with Ashangi blood. The underground path stretched before me like a serpent's throat, leading deeper into Ibezim's secrets.

And I followed, my charcoal-blackened skin making me one with the shadows, moving like a spirit of vengeance toward whatever fate awaited below.

Two guards in Ibezim's colors emerged from the darkness—a bowman and a spearman, both tense and alert. Lightning illuminated their cautious steps, their weapons ready as they scanned the rain-soaked shadows. Unaware, they moved right into the grip of unseen fate.

Two heartbeats was all I needed – the archer had to die first. My machete spun through the air, end over end, finding its home in his chest before he could fully draw his bow. The spearman thrust forward, but exhaustion had made me reckless, dangerous. I slipped inside his guard like a shadow, tasting his fear as his spear stabbed empty air. My hands found his head, and the stone wall did the rest – a dull crack echoing through the tunnel.

I retrieved my machete from the archer's chest, the blade slick with fresh blood, when I heard them – footsteps, disciplined and numerous, moving in formation. The sound brought a grim smile to my face. Then they appeared: ten of Ibezim's elite guards, spears leveled, eyes hard in the torch light.

And behind them, Ehime. She emerged from the shadows like a bad memory, her beauty as deadly as ever. The last time we'd met, she'd nearly taken my head.

"We meet again, shadow!" Her voice carried the same playful menace I remembered.

"Indeed." I adjusted my grip on my machete, feeling the weight of every fight that had led to this moment.

"You look tired." Her eyes gleamed with predatory amusement.

"You have no idea." Blood dripped from my blade, marking moments. "I don't suppose you're going to let me pass out of the goodness of your heart?"

Her laugh cut through the tunnel, sharp as her blade. "I missed you. Come"—her smile spread, wicked—"my sword is thirsty."

I didn't wait for her signal. I lunged forward, becoming death itself. The first spear thrust met empty air as I rolled beneath it, my machete opening the wielder's thigh. A second guard fell as I rose, his throat fountaining red. The formation broke around me like water around stone.

Ehime watched, arms folded, enjoying the dance. Three more guards fell in quick succession – my blade finding gaps in their defense, my body moving on pure instinct now. Fatigue made my movements unpredictable, desperate. A spear grazed my ribs, adding fresh blood to the charcoal coating.

"Beautiful," Ehime murmured as another guard fell. "You've improved."

The remaining guards pressed in, their spears forming a forest of steel. I spun through them like a storm spirit, each movement flowing into the next. My machete sang its deadly song – one guard's arm, another's neck, a third's belly. Blood painted the tunnel walls in abstract patterns.

Through it all, Ehime watched, her smile growing wider with each kill. She was saving her strength, letting her men wear me down before our own dance would begin. And they were succeeding – each dodge came slower, each strike required more effort.

But I had promises to keep. Mairo waited at the meeting point. The Igwe needed rescue. And somewhere ahead, the onowu's reckoning awaited.

The last guard fell, his blood joining the rest on my blade. I stood among the bodies, chest heaving, as Ehime finally unfolded her arms.

"Now then," she purred, drawing her sword with elegant precision, "shall we begin?"

Our blades met in a shower of sparks, the clash echoing through the tunnel like thunder. Her machete split into two with a practiced flick – a deadly surprise I'd seen claim too many lives. But I was ready this time, twisting in mid-air as both blades whistled past.

We moved like dancers who'd rehearsed this deadly performance for years. Her right blade slashed high; I parried and spun away from her left. My counter-strike met empty air as she backflipped off the tunnel wall, her wrapped clothes flowing like dark water.

"I don't see your brat," I said, tasting blood from a cut I hadn't felt her land. Our blades locked, faces inches apart.

She broke away, graceful as a viper. "My lady is safe." Her twin blades caught the torchlight, dancing like fireflies.

We circled each other, reading muscle tensions, anticipating strikes. Blood from my chest wound mingled with the charcoal coating, creating abstract patterns on my skin. The shallow cut on her neck had painted a thin red line above her collarbone.

"If she's unrepentant and standing with her father in this"—I ducked under her lightning-fast slash—"and from finding you here, I'd say she is"—my blade clashed against hers in a burst of sparks—"then she'll pay for Rimi's blood."

Ehime's blades spun in a complex pattern, forcing me to give ground. "You still talk too much."

I rolled beneath her guard, coming up with a strike she barely deflected. "Well, in another life, we would have been good friends."

"You wound me, shadow." Her smile was genuine despite the deadly dance we were locked in. "I thought we were friends."

She lunged again, her twin blades becoming a whirlwind of steel. I met her fury with calculated precision, our weapons singing their lethal song. We flowed through the tunnel space like rival spirits – up the walls, off the ceiling, each strike potentially fatal, each dodge a matter of heartbeats.

The tunnel filled with the music of our battle – steel on steel, boots on stone, the soft exhale of killing strikes that nearly found their mark. We fought with the intimacy of lovers and the intent of assassins, each of us reading the other's body like a familiar writings.

Two perfect killers, performing their deadly art in the depths of Ibezim's underground maze. The torchlight painted our dance in shifting shadows as we continued our fatal choreography, neither willing to be the first to make a fatal mistake.

But I spotted my opening, ready to deliver the fatal blow, when an explosion shook the ground beneath us. Rocks and debris rained down from above, the ceiling crumbling. My position was safer, but Ehime, caught unaware, was standing directly under the falling rubble. Her eyes went wide, but before she could move, I lunged forward, grabbed her hand, and yanked her clear just in time.

We hit the ground together, dust settling around us. I looked down at her and smirked. "We're even now."

I sprang to my feet, resuming my search for the onowu, when her voice stopped me. "Shadow," she called out, a sly grin on her face, "may we meet again."

I nodded, matched her grin, and vanished into the shadows, the onowu's reckoning calling me deeper into the dark.

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