"Finn, sir!", one of my men barged in the room, nearly slamming the door off its hinges as he skidded to a halt. His chest rose and fell like he’d sprinted the entire length of the barracks.

  I put down some papers, letting the inked reports fall flat against the oak desk, "What, soldier? Spit it out!"

  He had sweat running down his face, dripping off his jaw and soaking the collar of his uniform. His voice wavered, "There's an army on the horizon! From what we know, it's only some Major Clans, so it's not too worrisome, but the soldiers will be occupied! We cannot keep the inside of Grand Sasebella monitored."

  I leaned back in my chair and relaxed my feet on the desk, letting the wood creak under my boots. I exhaled slowly through my nose, unimpressed, "End them, even if that leaves the inside open. Us Flames are unbeatable."

  He nodded with the stiffness of a man grateful for a simple order, "Yes, sir!"

  As he turned to leave, a paper glided from my open window onto my desk. It spiraled through the air unnaturally, as if deliberately aimed. That alone froze me. Nothing drifted into the Flame quarters by mistake. I sat properly and clicked my tongue, brushing away the other documents to read it.

  It read...

  "Hey, Finn. I haven't forgotten what you did to me.

  Your wife deserved what she got, marrying someone like you. If you think otherwise, meet me at the training grounds."

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  My jaw clenched so hard my teeth cracked together. I crushed the paper into nothing in an instant—turning it to soft dust between my fingers. This is a trap. It has to be. But I won't refuse a chance to kill him. If I sense anyone other than Vellin, I'll retreat and gather the other Flames. If it's just him, he's dead!

  I walked to the half open door by the soldier, pushing aside the curtain of tension in the hallway. Before leaving, I turned around and let my eyes rest on my wife's portrait—Elia, captured forever in gentle brush strokes. A woman far too gentle for this world. Elia, Sun will thrive. I will thrive.

  For your memory.

  I entered the training grounds. The familiar gravel crunched beneath my boots. It was where I first met Vellin, as I interrupted that catfight. The air here always smelled faintly of old sweat and scorched earth. But now, it was unnervingly quiet.

  I couldn't sense his presence.

  Then, killing intent leaked from a shadow in the corner of the inner circle's walls—thick enough to make the hairs on my arms stand up. Vellin had his hands in his pockets, and stepped out of the darkness like he’d been carved from it. He had a pristine black jacket and white pants. A new outfit for a change in who he was, I guess.

  I couldn't disregard it for long. The aura from him was insane. Heavy. Suffocating. He's grown at least three times in the time I haven't seen him.

  He winked, "Did you get my message?"

  I backed up to the south end of the arena floor, sneakers grinding into the cracked stone. I will take him out in one attack.

  He stepped up, kicking up some concrete rocks with a casual stomp, "I take that's a yes by how you're staring at me."

  I lifted my head, tightening every muscle in my frame, "You're a fool for going against us, and you're a fool for saying that about someone so kind."

  Vellin smirked, the expression sharper than his spear hand, "What did she see in you?"

  I used Flash and closed the distance instantly, fist poised to take his head off, smiling as the wind roared past my ears.

  "Can you even see me?"