Kiss of the Abyss

Obsidian Hall’s dome held twelve dark-red magic cores suspended high above, their light like drops of congealed blood. Su Ziyan slid along the shadows of the pillars, the soles of her boots making no sound against the floor—the Order Shield’s custom noise-suppressing leather absorbed ninety percent of her footsteps. the thirteenth time. She counted the number in her mind, her fingers brushing the poison-coated dagger at her waist. Her previous twelve targets had all died in the hour before dawn. This time would be no exception. Mentor James had told her: the Abyss Lord’s palace seemed heavily guarded, but in truth its strength was only skin-deep. The outer defenses had three gaps in their magic arrays, and she had infiltrated the core area in just half an hour. The oak door to the study stood ajar. Su Ziyan slipped inside sideways, her right hand already gripping the dagger’s hilt. The flames on the golden candelabra flickered, illuminating the enormous oil painting on the wall—a young girl standing beneath a laurel tree, her white dress caught by the wind, black hair cascading like a waterfall, her gaze distant yet defiant. Seventeen-year-old herself. She froze. The face, the expression, even the tiny mole at the corner of her mouth—all identical to her own. In the lower-left corner was a line of text, the ink aged but every word clear: “My redemption.” “You’re finally here.” The voice came from the shadows behind her—a low male voice carrying a restrained tenderness, like a man who had waited too long and finally seen the light. Su Ziyan spun around, dagger already drawn. Lucas Winter stood by the bookshelf, his finger resting on an open ancient tome. Silver moonlight poured from the high window, illuminating his pale face and those deep, gray-blue eyes. She had seen his wanted posters—the man in them was sinister and bloodthirsty. But this young man wore a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms, his posture as relaxed as if he were welcoming a guest into his own study. “I knew you would come,” he said. “Then die.” Su Ziyan lunged, the dagger arcing like a silver crescent straight for his throat. Speed, angle, force—flawless. The perfect score from Order Shield’s assassination course: zero-error thrust. Lucas didn’t dodge. He raised his left hand and caught the blade’s tip precisely between his index and middle fingers. The pressure was light, as if plucking a fallen leaf. Su Ziyan’s pupils contracted sharply. The dagger was locked by an invisible force, unable to advance another inch. He stepped forward, and an overwhelming surge of energy washed over her. Her chest tightened, her blood churning. “The Order Shield taught you that?” Lucas looked down at her, his tone still calm. “Did they tell you it doesn’t work on the ‘Heir of Chaos’?” Su Ziyan clenched her jaw. Her left hand reached for another dagger strapped to her lower back. But before she could strike, Lucas’s right hand made a grasping motion in the air. A deep purple energy coiled around her entire arm, chain-like restraints spreading over her body and yanking her toward him. The dagger hit the floor with a sharp clatter. “Let me go!” Su Ziyan struggled, only to find that the harder she fought, the tighter the bonds became. Lucas released the dagger and stepped back half a pace. He studied her, his gaze settling on the faint silver lines on her neck—a sealing mark that only revealed itself when she was emotionally stirred. “Your organization betrayed you,” he said. There was no gloating in his voice, only the flatness of stating a fact. “They sent you to die. You should ask them why the thirteenth assassination plan didn’t include any escape option.” Su Ziyan’s heart jumped. She recalled Mentor James’s words before she set out: “This mission is simple. The fewer people who know, the better. You won’t even need a tracker.” She had thought it was trust. “You’re lying!” she snarled. “Mentor James would never—” “He would,” Lucas interrupted. “Because he knows who I am. And he knows why you can’t kill me.” He raised his hand and touched her collar. Su Ziyan jerked her head away, but he was too fast. With a ripping sound, he tore open her collar, exposing the silver mark. The mark was now glowing with a faint blue light, as if responding to something. “Do you know what this is?” Lucas asked. Su Ziyan glared at him, teeth gritted. “No,” he answered for her. “You don’t.” He let go, stepped back two paces, and turned to face the window. The moonlight bathed his entire figure in silver-white, and the emotions in his eyes were too complex to read. “Elith,” he called toward the door. The door opened. A tall, blonde woman walked in, expressionless, carrying a silver chain. “Luoshui Silver Chain,” Elith said coldly, looking at Su Ziyan. “The thing that binds chaos mages can bind you too. Put it on yourself, or shall I help you?” Su Ziyan bit her lip until it bled. She tried to activate the tracker on her inner wrist—Order Shield’s highest-grade distress device. Press it, and reinforcements would arrive within three minutes. But when she pressed, nothing happened. The signal was blocked. She raised her head and met Lucas’s gray-blue eyes. “Welcome to the Abyss,” he said. “Your journey of redemption has only just begun.” The Luoshui Silver Chain snapped around her wrists, cold enough to pierce bone. Su Ziyan felt herself dragged toward darkness by an immense force. And the sealing mark on her neck, under Lucas’s gaze, began to burn—so hot she almost screamed. But what burned even hotter was the faith crumbling inside her. She had thought she was the hunter. But the prey had been waiting for her all along.