Hana lay beside Ronan under the same thin sheet, her silver hair spilled across his chest. Moonlight slipped through the cracked window of the rundown chamber, painting their skin in cold silver.
"They call him Dren the Drought," she whispered, voice soft against the night.
"They say he can't be killed. They say he brings suffering and agony to both himself and his enemies… and that's why he's called the Drought."
Ronan stared at the ceiling, jaw tight.
"There's no man that can't be killed."
Present
Dren stood motionless in the ruined hall, blood still dripping from the deep gash across his shoulder. A dark, pulsating aura rippled around him like heat haze, heavy and unnatural. Despite the pain, he reached down and picked up his sword with steady hands.
"Go now," he said quietly. "Honor your mother's last wish."
Ronans's eyes burned with rage. He roared and charged, katana flashing in a vicious downward slash. The blade cut only air. Dren had already vanished from the spot, reappearing a few feet away with eerie calm. Ronan stumbled forward from the force of his own swing.
Something about Dren had changed.
Ronan ignored the warning in his gut and attacked again, swinging wildly. Dren sidestepped each strike with minimal movement, his sword still lowered at his side.
"Ahhh!" Ronan screamed, frustration boiling over.
Skullbreaker lumbered in from the side, hammer raised high, aiming for Dren's exposed left flank. The giant brought the weapon down with bone-crushing force.
Dren disappeared again.
The hammer smashed into empty floor, sending cracks spider-webbing across the stone. At the same instant, Ronan and Skullbreaker collided shoulder-to-shoulder with a heavy *thud*, both staggering from the impact.
Before either could recover, Dren reappeared behind Ronan and drove a sharp kick into the back of his head. Ronan flew forward, crashing face-first into a broken table.
Skullbreaker roared and charged again, swinging the massive hammer in a wide horizontal arc that shattered chairs and sent wooden splinters exploding outward. Dust and debris clouded the air.
"I can't see!" Ronan snarled, slashing blindly. "Come out and fight me like a man, you bastard!"
A shadow moved in the swirling dust. Dren's hand shot out, grabbing Ronan by the face and slamming him down into the stone floor with brutal force. Skullbreaker's hammer came whistling in from the side. Dren twisted at the last moment, raising his sword to meet the hammer's head. The clash rang out like a bell, bright sparks showering across the hall.
Dren didn't speak. His eyes were cold, focused, almost empty. Something inside him had awakened.
The dust slowly settled. Skullbreaker stood panting, hammer now cracked and chipped from the impact. Dren was no longer on the ground — he had leaped onto a broken section of the roof beam overhead, looking down at them in silence.
Skullbreaker grabbed the dazed Ronan by the collar and hauled him upright. Ronan was bleeding from the earlier fight and from Dren's strikes, his breathing ragged.
"Coward!" Ronan shouted up at the roof, voice cracking with fury. "Come down and fight me like a man! I dare you!"
Skullbreaker didn't wait. He slung the injured Ronan over his shoulder like a sack and turned toward the exit, heavy boots crunching over debris.
Dren remained on the beam, watching them leave without a word.
Later, the hall had fallen quiet except for the soft crackle of dying torches.
Dren limped over to the commander, who lay against the wall, breathing shallow and wet. Blood soaked the man's armor.
Dren knelt and gently lifted him, draping the commander's arm over his own injured shoulder.
"Leave me here," the commander rasped. "It's my time. I fought like a knight."
"I can still take you," Dren said.
"You're in as bad shape as I am," the commander coughed, blood flecking his lips. "Leave me to die with my knights. Honor a knight's last wish."
Dren sat beside him in silence. The commander's breathing grew slower… then stopped. Dren closed the man's eyes with gentle fingers, then stood.
He found one remaining horse outside — the others had fled with their riders. He mounted with effort, pain flaring through his shoulder, and turned the horse toward Thornhold.
The night wind whipped across the road. Dren's eyes grew heavy. Exhaustion finally won. He slipped from the saddle and fell hard onto the dirt, unconscious.
An unknown place — A small shed
Dren woke to the smell of herbs and woodsmoke. Bandages wrapped his shoulder and torso. A woman lay sleeping beside him on the narrow bed, her arm draped across his chest.
He pushed her away roughly. She tumbled to the floor with a startled cry.
"Ahhh!"
"Who the hell are you?" Dren demanded, sitting up.
The woman stood, brushing herself off, and began pulling on her clothes without shame.
"He said I should keep you company," she answered simply.
"Who?" Dren asks
The door creaked open. A familiar figure stepped inside wearing the gleaming armor of the Golden Cloaks.
"Long time no see, Dren."
Dren's eyes narrowed.
"Caesar."
Chapter ends