THE GOD OF RUIN

Chapter Four

Alex's POV

The night was alive with shadows, twisting over the palace like dark, predatory waves. I felt myself being hoisted onto a broad, iron-strong shoulder, my body limp and heavy. The darkness of the dungeon still clung to my skin, bleeding into the open air as I became a passenger in my own escape. I felt helpless. Small. A broken thing being carried through the sky.

The cloaked man moved with the silent grace of a predator, leaping from the stone window onto the sloped tiles of the roof. Every step was precise, a calculated gamble against gravity. Loose slate groaned beneath his weight. Below us, the arena grounds crawled with guards; their torches flickered in the distance like a sea of molten stars. There was no easy path out. The palace was a fortress, and we were trapped in its ribcage.

He pressed me tightly to his chest, his heart a steady drum against my ear. But even the most skilled hunters make mistakes. As he pivoted to clear a chimney, his boot caught on a decorative stone gargoyle.

Crunch.

The sound carried through the freezing night like a snapped bone. A sentry below paused, squinting into the gloom. I watched as suspicion spread through the ranks like wildfire.

We kept moving, but my throat burned with the copper taste of old blood rising. I couldn't stop it. I coughed, spitting a dark glob onto the roof. It slid down the slate, landing—splat—directly onto the polished helmet of a guard ten feet below.

The soldier reached up, touched the wetness, and sniffed. His eyes widened. Our gazes met for a heartbeat: a boy made of scars and a man made of shadows.

“Alert! Intruder on the North Wing!” the guard bellowed, his voice shattering the silence.

“Kill them! Don’t let them reach the wall!”

The cloaked man stood tall on the roof’s peak, raising a hand toward the moon. He tried to unleash his power—a surge of dark, ancient energy—but it flickered and died in his palm. I saw shock cross his hidden features.

My magic... it’s locked. Who in this palace has the strength to bind me?

He didn’t panic. He lowered me to a stone chimney, steadying my balance with a firm hand. Below, the Great Bell began to toll. Bong. Bong. Bong. The vibrations sank into my marrow, a drum of doom echoing through the night. Boots thundered against the courtyard stone as the army moved like a tide of steel.

“Intruder! Capture the servant!”

The courtyard became a forest of leveled spears. My face was a ruin of dried blood and fresh scars, barely human anymore. To them, I wasn't a boy. I was a stain to be erased from the royal marble.

“Who are you to interfere with royal justice?” King Leo shouted from his dais, his voice booming. “What business do you have with that filth?”

Lydia stepped forward, her eyes glowing with a faint, ethereal light that caught the wind. “I can sense him,” she whispered, her voice carrying an unnatural chill. “A shadow-walker. A high-level assassin. He is powerful, yes, but he cannot surpass me. One useless move, and I will unmake his soul.”

The cloaked man ignored her threats. He turned to me, his voice a low growl. “What is your name, boy? If we die here, let it be with a name.”

I remembered the woman in the fire—my mother’s face in the flames. The first truth I’d ever claimed escaped my lips.

“I’m Alex.”

He handed me a small, bitter pill. I swallowed it without question. Almost instantly, the fire in my ribs dulled to a manageable ache.

“I am here to save him!” the cloaked man roared, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “If any of you lay a hand on Alex again, you will die before seeing the blade that strikes!”

Hope flared inside me. It was a terrifying, beautiful feeling. Someone truly cared. Even after seeing the monster within me, he was standing between me and the world.

King Leo’s laughter shattered the moment. It was cold and jagged.

“Looking for death, then? You are trash protecting trash. The boy is a broken tool. A servant who forgot his place.”

He stepped forward, flanked by Michael, who shimmered in silk that caught the torchlight like oil on water. Michael clapped his hands behind his back, his expression one of mocking amusement.

“I thought I recognized that stench,” Michael hissed. “The useless rat who couldn't even die properly in his own cell. Tell me, how did you escape? Did you eat the guards?”

Leo’s eyes blazed with a different fury. “What happened to the men I sent to kill him?”

Lydia raised a hand, signaling for silence. “If you want to live,” she told the cloaked man, her voice regal and frozen, “run. Leave the boy. You cannot win.”

The cloaked man shifted, sensing the invisible pressure in the air. I cannot fight them all. My core is locked. But the Bloodline must survive.

He swallowed a crimson pill of his own. I watched as his muscles bulged beneath the dark fabric of his cloak. A soldier lunged at him with a spear; he flowed like water, sidestepping the thrust and hurling the man over the roof tiles. Another attacker came from behind; he grabbed the man’s helmet and slammed it into the stone with a sickening c***k. He was a whirlwind of black cloth and bone-breaking strikes—unstoppable.

Michael halted the archers with a lazy wave of his hand, heat radiating from his palms like a furnace.

“You truly are a hero,” Michael laughed. “Risking your life for a boy whose own parents abandoned him. It's almost touching.”

The mention of my parents snapped something inside me. I staggered to my feet, my lungs burning, and faced the King.

“I was the one you called useless!” I screamed, my voice cracking with years of suppressed rage. “You treated me like a beast of burden! You flogged me until I couldn't walk, even when I obeyed every whim!”

Tears blurred my vision, mixing with the grit and blood on my face. The vision of the man and woman in the fire flashed before me—their love, their screams, their horrific end.

“I did everything! I lived in your dirt! But you never gave me the one thing I asked for!”

“And what could a wretch like you possibly want?” Leo sneered, leaning back into his seat as a concubine fed him grapes. “Tell me, ungrateful dog.”

“My parents!” I shouted, my knees buckling under the weight of the truth. “I asked every year who they were! You told me they were criminals! You told me they were killed because they were evil!”

“Kill them both!” Leo snapped, his patience finally vanishing.

“Wait... not yet,” Michael interjected, his eyes glowing with a predatory light. His light armor glinted beneath his silk robes. He was finally going to fight.

The cloaked man shook his head in pity. “The nobles of this land are fools, staking lives for a crown made of glass.”

He lowered himself into a fighting stance, his hands glowing faintly as his sparks rebelled against the soul lock. Beside Leo, Lydia opened her Third Eye, scanning for a weakness. Her brow furrowed when she found none.

“Let the execution begin,” Leo said, sipping his wine as elite guards began to scale the walls, wave after wave of steel.

The courtyard below dissolved into a chaotic storm. The cloaked man flowed between the attackers like a living shadow, striking with precise, lethal brutality. Spears shattered, men screamed, and the air filled with the thick scent of smoke and iron. I stayed back, my heart hammering against my ribs, feeling the pulse of danger in every breath I drew.

Above us, the wind whipped at our faces, carrying the metallic scent of the blood pooling below. I felt the weight of the pill in my stomach, sharpening my senses and narrowing the world down to this single moment. Every heartbeat was a drum. Every movement was survival.

Michael unleashed a wave of raw power. The stone beneath his feet cracked under the pressure. Lightning arcs danced across the courtyard, turning the night into a landscape of hellfire. The cloaked man parried the strike, rolling under the electric arc as his own sparks shivered like black lightning.

I took a step forward. I wasn't useless anymore. My muscles burned from being carried, and my ribs ached with every breath, but I held my ground. The vision of my parents surged into the forefront of my mind, giving me a strength I didn't recognize.

“I’m Alex!” I shouted again, the words a vow. “I’m not useless!”

Even as the guards swarmed the roof, even as the King’s laughter pierced through the chaos, I felt something I had never felt before: resolve.

again.

For the first time, I understood that survival wasn’t the goal. I would fight. I would remember. I would never run again.