Chapter 15: The Ashen Tithe

The clearing was bathed in the amber hues of a dying sun, the light filtering through the trees like fractured glass. Serenya sat on a fallen log, her fingers trembling as she wrapped them around the pendant beneath her cloak. The magic within it pulsed faintly, as if sensing her unease.

Across the clearing, Drenic stood sharpening his dagger. The rhythmic scrape of steel on stone was steady and deliberate, a stark contrast to the tension in the air.

“How far to the next town?” Serenya asked, her voice cutting through the quiet.

Drenic glanced at her, his sharp gray eyes narrowing. “Half a day’s walk, maybe less if we don’t run into trouble.”

“We’re overdue for trouble,” she muttered.

He smirked faintly but didn’t reply.

They resumed their journey at dusk, the fading light painting the forest in deep shades of blue and gray. The path was narrow and overgrown, winding through dense thickets and over uneven terrain. Serenya stumbled more than once, her exhaustion pulling at her like a lead weight.

“Keep up,” Drenic said, glancing back.

“I’m trying,” she snapped, brushing dirt off her cloak.

“You’re doing fine,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “Just stay close.”

Serenya quickened her pace, her irritation mingling with a flicker of gratitude. Drenic’s presence, for all his sharp edges and infuriating smirks, had become a lifeline.

The forest thinned as they approached a small settlement nestled in a shallow valley. The village, known as Ashen Hollow, was barely more than a cluster of wooden shacks and a single cobbled road winding through the center. A heavy layer of soot clung to the rooftops and chimneys, giving the town its name.

“What is this place?” Serenya asked, wrinkling her nose at the acrid smell in the air.

“Coal town,” Drenic replied. “Miners and traders. Not the friendliest bunch, but they’ll take your coin without asking too many questions.”

“Great,” she muttered.

They entered the village under the cover of night, their footsteps echoing softly against the cobblestones. Most of the houses were dark, their windows shuttered against the cold, but a faint light spilled from the cracks of a small tavern near the center of town.

Drenic led the way inside, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his dagger.

The common room was cramped and dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of spilled ale and damp wood. A handful of miners sat at the tables, their faces shadowed and their voices low.

Drenic approached the barkeep, a burly woman with tired eyes and soot-streaked hands.

“Room for two,” he said, sliding a silver coin across the counter.

The barkeep eyed him suspiciously but took the coin without a word. She gestured toward the narrow staircase at the back of the room.

“Upstairs,” she said. “First door on the left.”

The room was small and sparsely furnished, with a single bed, a wooden chair, and a cracked window overlooking the street below. Serenya set her satchel on the chair, her body sagging with exhaustion.

“I’ll take the floor,” Drenic said, dropping his pack near the window.

“You don’t have to—”

“I’ve slept in worse places,” he interrupted, his smirk faint. “Get some rest.”

Serenya nodded, though sleep felt impossible. She lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling as her thoughts raced.

The Onyx Veil. The shadow creatures. The visions that left her drained and trembling.

She clutched the pendant tightly, its pulse a steady reminder of the power she carried—and the burden it brought.

The quiet didn’t last.

A faint knock at the door pulled Serenya from the edge of sleep. She sat up, her heart pounding as she glanced at Drenic. He was already on his feet, his dagger in hand.

“Stay back,” he whispered, motioning for her to stay near the bed.

The knock came again, louder this time.

Drenic moved to the door, opening it a crack.

A young girl stood in the hallway, her face pale and streaked with soot.

“Help us,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Drenic frowned. “What’s going on?”

“The Ashen Tithe,” the girl said, her eyes wide with fear.

Serenya stepped forward, her curiosity outweighing her caution. “What’s the Ashen Tithe?”

The girl glanced at her, then back at Drenic. “You shouldn’t have come here,” she said. “It’s too late.”

“What do you mean?” Serenya pressed.

“They’ll come for you,” the girl said, her voice breaking. “They always come.”

Before Drenic could respond, a piercing scream echoed from the street below.

The tavern erupted into chaos as the scream cut through the air. Serenya rushed to the window, her breath catching in her throat as she saw shadows shifting unnaturally in the street below. Figures cloaked in darkness moved with eerie precision, their crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.

“Veil assassins,” Drenic muttered, his voice low and tense.

“How did they find us so quickly?” Serenya whispered, her panic rising.

“They didn’t,” he said. “This isn’t about us.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look closer,” he said, nodding toward the street.

Serenya squinted, her eyes widening as she saw the villagers being herded into the center of town. The cloaked figures moved among them, dragging some forward and binding their hands with thick cords.

“They’re taking them,” she said, her stomach twisting.

Drenic’s expression darkened. “It’s not just a hunt. It’s a ritual.”

The Ashen Tithe.

The words echoed in Serenya’s mind as she watched the scene unfold. The villagers’ cries for mercy were drowned out by the harsh commands of the cloaked figures. One by one, the chosen were dragged toward a makeshift altar at the edge of the square, where a figure cloaked in black stood waiting.

The leader’s voice rang out, low and guttural, as they chanted in a language Serenya didn’t recognize. The air around the altar seemed to ripple, thick with magic that made her skin crawl.

“We have to do something,” she said, turning to Drenic.

He shook his head. “We can’t save everyone. If we reveal ourselves, we’ll be next.”

“We can’t just stand here,” she insisted.

Drenic’s jaw tightened, his gaze flicking between her and the scene below.

“Fine,” he said finally. “But we do this my way.”

They slipped out of the tavern and into the shadows, moving carefully through the narrow alleys that bordered the square. The sound of chanting grew louder as they approached, mingling with the villagers’ muffled sobs.

Serenya’s heart raced as they crouched behind a stack of crates, watching the ritual unfold. The leader raised their hands, a dagger glinting in the faint light.

Drenic leaned close to her, his voice a whisper. “You see that one?” He nodded toward a cloaked figure standing near the altar. “Take them out, and the others might hesitate.”

Serenya swallowed hard. “How am I supposed to—”

“Use your gift,” he interrupted.

She hesitated, her fingers brushing the pendant beneath her cloak. The magic inside flared to life, raw and volatile.

Closing her eyes, she whispered, “Show me what to do.”

The vision surged through her mind: the cloaked figure turning, the villagers scattering, and the leader left vulnerable for a fleeting moment.

Her eyes snapped open.

“Now,” she said, her voice steady.

Drenic moved first, slipping through the shadows with practiced ease. He closed the distance between him and the figure near the altar, his dagger flashing as he struck.

The assassin crumpled without a sound, and chaos erupted.

The villagers seized the opportunity, breaking free of their captors and fleeing into the night. The leader turned, their crimson eyes locking onto Serenya.

“You,” they hissed, their voice dripping with malice.

Serenya’s blood ran cold as the figure advanced, dark magic swirling around them.

Drenic stepped between them, his dagger raised. “You’ll have to go through me first.”

The battle was swift and brutal. Drenic dodged the leader’s attacks with precision, his blade flashing as he parried and struck. Serenya stayed back, her hands trembling as she reached for her pendant again.

The magic inside burned brighter, hotter, as she focused.

“Show me,” she whispered.

The vision came—brief but clear. The leader’s movements, the moment their defenses would falter, and the strike that would end it.

“Drenic, now!” she shouted.

He moved without hesitation, driving his dagger into the leader’s chest. The figure gasped, their body convulsing as the dark magic around them dissipated.

The remaining assassins fled into the night, their confidence shattered.

The square was silent once more.

Drenic wiped his blade clean, his breathing heavy. “You did good,” he said, his smirk faint.

Serenya nodded, her body trembling from the strain of her gift.

“They’ll be back,” she said softly.

“Let them come,” Drenic replied. “We’ll be ready.”

But as they disappeared into the shadows, Serenya couldn’t shake the feeling that the worst was yet to come.

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