Chapter 10
Ellaryn blinked hard, as if this were a dream she would soon wake up from, dumbfounded by the new untarnished face in front of her.
“You must be either stupid or mad, breaking into this place when the whole city is trying to escape it. So which one is it?” Ellaryn asked, genuine intrigue on her features, fingers flirting with the handle of her sword.
“I don’t like labels; they tend to just put you in a box.” He winked, the corners of his mouth curling into a carefree smile.
Ellaryn immediately disliked his demeanour.
He carried himself with the easy confidence of someone who had never had to consider the consequences of his actions—as though, for a fleeting moment, he had forgotten exactly where he was.
“There are no boxes in Cinders—only coffins.” She sneered, palm ready on her weapon. “And you’re becoming dangerously close to seeing the inside of one.”
“Is that a threat, Ruin?” He smirked, twirling a dagger in his hand.
“More like a warning.” She countered, taking a sure step towards him.
“Well, consider me warned.” He flashed her a grin. “Now, will that be all?” He waved a hand as if brushing the moment away.
“No, that won’t be all,” Ellaryn mimicked him. The lack of seriousness in his tone sent her head spiralling. “You’re playing a dangerous game. Cinders is no place for people like you.”
“People like me?” he asked, amusement dancing across his soft features—Ellaryn was growing impatient.
“Naive. Idiotic. Way out of your depth. Would you like me to go on?”
His eyebrow raised in intrigue. “And how did you reach those conclusions?”
Her eyes drifted deliberately over him, pinpointing every feature that made him foreign to Cinders.
“Your hands are well manicured, your hair untouched by the ash, and a foolish smile claims your lips—you are clearly not from here. And from the sheer fact that you have trapped yourself in an alley with the King’s executioner, I’m betting your survival instincts are about as good as that of a moth to a flame.
” She paused. “Would that be a fair assumption?”
“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I’m the flame and you’re the moth in this scenario?” He pointed at his chest, smirk still painted widely on his features.
A hollow laugh escaped her. “In this city. I am always the flame.” She smiled dryly and gripped the hilt of her sword tighter, but the smirk didn’t falter from his face.
“Well, flames can be extinguished.” He replied, his eyes catching the light, a shade of blue she had never seen before.
“Not this one.” Ellaryn countered, hearing her heart thumping in her ears. She still could not believe this was the man who entered the city. Who broke through the wall. He seemed so normal. Weak even.
“Ah yes—the immortal Ruin.” He mused; there was a twinkle in his eye, one that marked how fresh he was to this life. In here. Cinders had a way of snuffing out any light that tried to burn brighter than the embers. “I’m shaking in my boots.” His knees trembled with forced fear.
“You really are stupid, aren’t you?”
“Stupidly handsome.” His smile stretched wider, which infuriated Ellaryn more.
“Tell me, would you still be making jokes with my sword at your throat?” She raised a steady eyebrow, words firm as she took a sure step towards him.
He shrugged, cloak swaying momentarily. “I don’t know, but you’re welcome to test that theory. I do love an experiment or two.”
“You think this is funny!?” She spat, her tone laced with shock and bitterness.
It seemed he had no idea how lucky he was to have lived outside of the wall.
Outside of the pain and darkness that Cinders breathed like air.
And he took it all for granted. “The King already knows something is wrong… When he finds out you’re here—”
“But he’s not going to find out, is he?” The man said, not an ounce of fear in his words. Ellaryn laughed at his stupidity. Probably the first time she had laughed in years.
“Your naivety will get you killed. There is nothing the King doesn’t know. Nothing that gets past him.” She took another step towards him. “If you had any sense, you would leave now and take as many people as you can with you.”
The man cocked his head and stared at her for a moment before peeling himself off the crate, stepping towards her. Ellaryn stumbled back, her sword still raised, wanting to keep her distance.
“Huh.” His eyes roamed over her small frame. “You don’t seem half as bad as they say you are.”
“Don’t pretend you know anything about me,” she hissed, jaw tight, blade high.
“Oh, but I do.” He took another stride closer, ignoring the weapon in her hand, circling her like a predator.
“You see, I’ve had some interesting conversations since I’ve been here.
” He took a step towards her, setting Ellaryn’s nerves on edge.
“I know that you’re the King’s executioner… or should I say pet… or puppet rather?”
Ellaryn’s hands clenched harder around the hilt. Every word made her muscles tense.
How long had he been here?
Long enough to know things about her.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she growled, voice low.
He chuckled, calm and deliberate. “Tell me, Ruin… Do you enjoy it? The fear. The power. The way people cower from you like you’re a monster.”
Ellaryn held her weapon tighter. “Watch it,” she warned, but his mouth continued to spit venom.
“The stories say you don’t hesitate. Is that true… or is it all for show?” He took another slow step.
“You’re about to find out.” She bit back, gritting her teeth.
“I don’t think so.” He breathed, as if he had no idea the raptor he was taunting.
“You’ve had,” he checked his watch, “three minutes, give or take,” he shrugged, “to apprehend me, and well, look,” his arms opened as he glanced upon his frame, “still here. Head still firmly attached to my shoulders, wrists unbound.” He took another step towards her.
“I think, if you wanted me dead, I would be. Would that be a fair assumption?”
Ellaryn’s jaw tensed as he threw her own words back in her face.
She cocked her head. “Maybe I just like to play with my food before I eat it.”
His chuckle reverberated off the walls before his expression shifted.
“Or maybe…” He paused, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Just maybe, your intrigue has gotten the better of you.”
He began circling her, his boots scuffing against the cobblestones. His gaze dropped to her sword, then slowly returned to her face.
“You wield that sword like it’s part of you.” He gestured towards it. “But I’ve been watching you.”
His voice softened.
“I think there’s a part of you that wishes it wasn’t.”
Her jaw tightened. Eyes burning, though she didn’t lower the blade, just moved her body in time with his.
“That’s why you won’t kill me.” He waved a finger, as if he could read her. “Because the King hasn’t ordered you to.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
“Oh, but I am. You see, the people fear you. But I think you scare yourself the most. You hide behind that reputation like armour. I wonder… what’s underneath it?”
“Enough!” Her voice cut through the alley, sharp as steel. “You will stop talking if you know what’s good for you.”
“There you go again. Another empty threat. Is it just muscle memory at this point?”
“Leave this city.” She ignored his comment and the way her pulse thudded painfully in her ears. She wanted to strike. She wanted him gone. But she stayed rooted, body tense, sword raised, every instinct screaming.
Because he was right. And she hated it.
He shook his head, just out of reach, lips curling in a faint, unsettling grin.
“They say you’re intentionally cruel.” his words seemed to disturb even the shadows. “But I think he’s got something on you. That’s the truth.”
Her body stiffened.
“Am I warm?” He continued, but she didn’t say anything. “Poor little Ruin,” he mocked, and the nickname cut like a knife. “Forced to do the King’s dirty work—to maim and kill… to take heads and hands and whatever else he desires.”
“Shut. Up!”
The jagged ache in her chest threatened to spill over. She willed herself steady, focusing every ounce of control on the water pooling behind her lashes.
“Tell me, how does it work?” He mused, testing her limits. “He gives the orders… and you obey without question?”
And with that, her patience snapped.
She lunged, pushing him back hard, her strength amplified by the rage she felt. His back slammed against the wall. Breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps as the sword gleamed in moonlight against his throat, a silent promise of death.
“There she is,” he said, voice now dark and amused. “The Ruin I’ve heard so much about.”
“You made a mistake coming here.” She grimaced, her stare piercing through the blue in his eyes.
“Don’t you want to know how I did it…” He said, voice all too calm for someone at the edge of her blade. “How I got through the wall?”
She did. She wanted nothing more.
Because no one except the King made the shadows yawn. Nothing and no one got in. Not in fifteen years.
She didn’t have to answer; her eyes gave her away. The man leaned into her sword, his throat slicing on the sharpness of the blade. Ellaryn’s expression faltered; she had never encountered someone who had wanted to be cut open.
“You have a death wish; now it makes sense.” She breathed, furrowing her eyebrows.
“No, look closer.” He whispered, eyes pointed towards the blade.
Then she saw it.
The way his blood shimmered, even amidst the darkness of the alley.
He was… A Potential.
“You’re—”
The words struggled to take form as they left her mouth. If he was powerful enough to get through the wall, he was not just any sorcerer.
He was a strong one.
The man took note of Ellaryn’s stunned expression—and before she could so much as blink, he moved.
In a single manoeuvre, he reversed their positions, pinning her to the wall with a speed that stole the breath from her lungs.
Her wrists were captured in his hands, held firmly above her head, and her sword clattered against the stone at their feet, the metallic ring echoing down the narrow alley.
He was strong. Far stronger than anyone she had encountered.
And far too calm for someone who’d just disarmed the King’s executioner.
“Let me go.” She stated, writhing in his touch. She was not used to being overpowered in a city where all they did was fear and tremble in her wake.
“Are you going to behave?” He taunted, but Ellaryn didn’t react. Her stare didn’t waver. She drove her knee hard into his groin, and he folded with a grunt—just enough for her to slip free of his grip. She snatched her sword off the ground and aimed it at him again.
“It’s you who needs to behave.”
He straightened with a grimace.
“You need to leave. Now!” She said again, but his expression did not change. He still appeared unbothered. She wished he would see sense. That he would leave before the King got his filthy hands on him.
He wouldn’t live.
He may have been strong, but he was not stronger than the King.
Nowhere near. No one was.
“I think I’ll stay.” His smirk deepened. “I haven’t seen the sights yet.”
“That was not a question.” She planted herself in front of the alley’s exit, blocking any chance of escape.
“The only way I’m leaving this city is in a body bag, so I guess if you want me out, you’re going to have to kill me.”
Ellaryn swallowed hard as her mind raced.
She couldn’t kill him.
He may have been the city’s only hope—her only hope.
But she couldn’t let him stay either.
If she did, she would be punished, and the King would take even more of her soul. Maybe even make her a Defier. It was not a risk she was willing to take.
She would not be punished. Not for this.
“I can’t let you stay,” she said regretfully.
Maybe if she beat him into submission, he would go back to where he came from. She just needed to show him how strong she was. Fear was something she knew how to summon. The King’s executioner could bring anyone to their knees. She would scare him into leaving.
The man nodded as if he had expected exactly that. He drew another dagger from beneath his cloak and raised it, arming both hands.
“I thought you might say that.”
He lunged.
Their blades collided in a blistering flurry, the clang of steel echoing through the narrow alley. She had never met anyone who could match her speed, her stamina, except the King—yet this man did.
Blow for blow.
Step for step.
For every question, he had an answer.
He forced her back, pinning her against the wall. Her sword flew from her hand as if ripped away by an invisible force, and his blade pressed cold and unyielding against her heart.
“Sorry about this,” he said with a shrug.
Then he drove the sharp edge straight through her chest.
Ellaryn gasped as the familiar iron tang of blood filled her mouth—and the world went black.