Thorne moved cautiously through the labyrinthine servants' quarters, his nerves stretched thin as he waited for Rhea. The quarters were vast, a network of chambers and hallways that seemed to stretch on forever. Each space buzzed with activity, a stark contrast to the tense, quiet anxiety building inside him.

  He passed through cavernous kitchens, where dozens of cooks and assistants worked feverishly, chopping vegetables, roasting meats, and stirring vast cauldrons of soup. The air was thick with the smells of cooking—a blend of roasting meats, herbs, and freshly baked bread. Servants darted back and forth, balancing trays and dodging one another with practiced ease.

  In the serving chambers, prepared dishes were arranged meticulously on silver platters, ready to be whisked upstairs to the waiting nobles. Thorne paused here, watching the precision with which the servants operated, their faces set in concentration. This was their world, a place where mistakes were not tolerated, and every action was performed with calculated efficiency.

  He moved on, exploring the storage areas next. Some rooms were bone-chillingly cold, lined with hooks from which hung the carcasses of various animals. The meat was frozen solid, the cold air biting at Thorne's skin even through his borrowed servant's clothes.

  Other storage rooms were filled with racks of expensive-looking liquids, wines and spirits that glittered in the dim light, their labels promising luxury to those who could afford them.

  Finally, he entered a room stocked with more mundane supplies: crates of vegetables, wheels of cheese, sacks of flour and grain—all stored in a more temperate room, the earthy smell of produce filling the air.

  It was here that he decided to wait, choosing a corner that allowed him a clear view of the door while still keeping him partially hidden. His nerves were starting to fray. The minutes ticked by, and still, there was no sign of Rhea.

  He paced nervously inside the storage room, peeking out the half-open door to the central hallway. Servants rushed past, too busy with their tasks or too engrossed in gossip about the events upstairs to notice him. He caught snippets of their conversations—speculation about what had happened in the ballroom, rumors of a murder, wild guesses about who might be responsible. It was clear that news was spreading fast, and it wouldn’t be long before the entire palace was locked down.

  A pair of city guards marched past, their heavy boots echoing in the corridor. Thorne’s heart skipped a beat, and he quickly shut the door, leaning against it as he tried to calm his racing thoughts. The window of opportunity was closing, and he knew it. The palace was becoming a cage, and if he didn’t act soon, he might never get out.

  But could he really leave without the others? First, Corwin had disappeared, then Jareth, and now Rhea was nowhere to be found. He felt a surge of guilt at the thought of abandoning them, but the brutal truth was that staying might mean throwing away everything they had worked for. He couldn’t afford to be sentimental—not now.

  Gritting his teeth, Thorne opened the door again and stepped into the hallway, determined to find a way out. His Escape Artist skill flared, guiding him through the labyrinth of corridors with an almost instinctual precision. He moved quickly but cautiously, avoiding the busier sections where guards were more likely to be stationed.

  At one point, he spotted a young serving girl carrying a stack of linens. With a winning smile, he approached her, keeping his voice light. “Excuse me, miss,” he said, his tone friendly, “I seem to have lost my way. Could you point me to the nearest exit? I just need to get some air.”

  The girl hesitated, glancing at him with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. But something in Thorne’s demeanor seemed to put her at ease, and she nodded, pointing down the corridor he was already heading toward. “It’s just down that way, sir,” she said softly. “Take a left at the end, and you’ll see a door that leads outside.”

  “Thank you,” Thorne replied, giving her a grateful nod before continuing on his way.

  The corridors twisted and turned, each one looking more alike than the last. The familiarity of the layout nagged at him, reminding him of the hidden passages in the Lost Ones' base. It was easy to imagine that whoever had designed this palace had thought of it as a fortress—a place where secrets could be kept and enemies could be easily lost.

  Finally, he reached the door the girl had mentioned. He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before cracking it open just enough to peek outside. The courtyard beyond was teeming with guards, their armor gleaming in the torchlight. It was as if the entire city’s garrison had been called to the palace. There was no way he could slip past them unnoticed.

  Thorne gritted his teeth and closed the door again, turning back into the corridor. His mind raced as he tried to think of another option. He couldn’t stay here much longer, not with the guards closing in and Rhea still missing. But he couldn’t simply walk out into the courtyard and expect to get away unscathed.

  He needed a plan, and he needed it fast.

  Thorne’s heart raced as he hurried back toward the kitchen’s main area, the tension mounting with every step. His thoughts were a chaotic swirl—he needed to find Rhea, needed to regroup and escape this nightmare of a mission. He was just a few corridors away from the bustling kitchens when a sudden, piercing scream tore through the air.

  The scream was followed by the unmistakable sound of pounding feet and the clash of metal. Thorne’s instincts kicked in, and he pressed himself against the wall, peering around the corner just in time to see Rhea barreling down the hallway, her face twisted in a mix of terror and determination. Behind her, half a dozen city guards were in hot pursuit, their armor clanking as they charged after her.

  “Rhea!” Thorne’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it was enough to catch her attention. Her eyes met his for a split second, filled with a desperate plea for help, before she dashed past him.

  Without a second thought, Thorne darted after her, his mind racing to come up with a plan. The corridor they were in was narrow and cramped, with no side passages to slip into—no escape except forward. The sound of the guards’ boots thundered in his ears, growing closer by the second.

  Rhea skidded around a corner, and Thorne followed her, his eyes darting ahead to assess their surroundings. They were heading deeper into the servants' quarters, a maze of dimly lit corridors and cramped rooms. It wasn’t long before they reached a choke point—a narrow passage where the walls pressed in on either side, creating a bottleneck that could be their salvation or their doom. They would have to make their stand there.

  Thorne grabbed Rhea’s arm, pulling her to a stop. “We can’t outrun them,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “We make our stand here.”

  Rhea nodded, her breathing ragged but her eyes resolute. There was no hesitation in her as she turned to face the approaching guards, drawing her weapons with a fluid motion. Thorne drew his daggers, feeling the familiar weight in his hands, and took his place beside her.

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  The first guard rounded the corner, his sword raised in a wide, sweeping arc that aimed to cleave them both in two. Thorne reacted instinctively, ducking under the swing and driving one of his daggers into the gap between the guard’s breastplate and his neck.

  His Critical Eye skill highlighted the weak points in the armor, guiding his strike with deadly precision. The blade sunk in deep, and with a pained grunt, the guard crumpled to the ground, his sword clattering uselessly beside him.

  But there was no time to savor the victory. The second guard was already upon them, his longsword whistling through the air with brutal force. Rhea stepped forward, her greatsword raised to meet the attack. Her weapon clashed against the guard’s with a resounding clang, sparks flying from the impact. She pushed back with all her might, activating a skill Thorne had seen her use before—Brute Strength. With a roar, she shoved the guard back, forcing him to stagger.

  Thorne seized the moment, lunging at the disoriented guard. He slashed at the exposed gap under the arm, but the guard twisted just in time, the blade grazing but not piercing. The guard retaliated with a vicious swing that Thorne barely managed to dodge, the edge of the sword cutting through the air inches from his face.

  Another guard, emboldened by the skirmish, charged forward. Thorne’s eyes narrowed. These weren’t ordinary guards. They moved with the precision of seasoned warriors, their levels likely close to his own, if not higher. He couldn’t afford to hold back.

  “Rhea!” Thorne shouted, his voice tight with urgency as he ducked under another swing. “We have to take them down now!”

  Rhea grunted in acknowledgment, her focus solely on the enemy before her. She activated another skill—Iron Resolve—and her stance shifted, becoming more solid, more immovable. The guard before her hesitated for a fraction of a second, giving her the opening she needed. With a powerful swing, she aimed for the guard’s legs, forcing him to leap back. But the narrow corridor left him little room to maneuver, and he collided with the wall, his armor scraping against the stone.

  Thorne knew they couldn’t keep this up much longer. The guards were powerful, well-trained, and relentless. Even in the tight quarters, they were proving to be formidable opponents, their heavy armor and longswords making it difficult for Thorne and Rhea to land a decisive blow. The guards’ heavy weapons made them slow in the cramped space, but their defense was nearly impenetrable. Each clash of swords sent jolts through Thorne’s arms, and each time he tried to maneuver around them, they would close ranks and push him back.

  He needed an edge. Something that would turn the tide in their favor.

  With a growl of frustration, Thorne resigned himself to the only option left. He activated Aether Surge, feeling the raw power of aether flood his system. His muscles surged with newfound strength, his reflexes sharpening to a razor’s edge. The world around him seemed to slow, each movement of his enemies highlighted in his vision.

  The third guard advanced, his sword poised for a lethal strike. Thorne moved with blinding speed, his Burst of Speed skill combining with the Aether Surge to make him a blur of motion. He darted past the guard’s defenses, his daggers flashing as he unleashed a Lethal Flurry of strikes. The guard’s armor couldn’t keep up with the barrage—Thorne’s daggers found every weak point, every gap, every exposed inch of flesh. Blood sprayed across the corridor as the guard fell to his knees, choking on his own blood before collapsing in a lifeless heap.

  But there was no time to rest. The fourth guard was right behind him, swinging his sword in a brutal downward arc. Thorne barely managed to twist out of the way, the blade grazing his shoulder and tearing through his tunic. Pain flared, but the aether coursing through him dulled the sensation, allowing him to focus on the fight.

  Rhea was holding her own, but Thorne could see she was reaching her limit. The fifth guard had her backed against the wall, his longsword smashing against her greatsword with relentless force. She activated another skill—Defiant Guard—and for a moment, the guard’s sword bounced off her defense as if it had struck an immovable object. But the strain was evident on her face, and Thorne knew she couldn’t hold out much longer.

  “Enough!” Thorne snarled, his voice laced with the power of the Aether Surge. He launched himself at the fifth guard, using his Burst of Speed to close the distance before the guard could react. His dagger plunged into the guard’s side, twisting cruelly as he yanked it out. The guard staggered, his breath hitching in pain, but he wasn’t down yet.

  The sixth guard charged, seeing his opportunity as Thorne was occupied with the fifth. But Thorne was ready. He spun on his heel, his dagger flashing as he parried the incoming strike. The force of the blow sent a jolt through his arm, but he didn’t let it slow him down.

  He pressed the attack, using the narrow space to his advantage. The guard’s longsword was powerful, but it was also cumbersome in the confined corridor. Thorne’s daggers danced in and out, slicing at the guard’s exposed flesh, cutting through the gaps in his armor.

  The guard grunted in frustration, unable to land a solid hit on the agile assassin. Thorne’s movements were a blur, his strikes precise and deadly. The guard tried to back away, to create some space to swing his sword, but Thorne was relentless. He used his Stealth Strike skill, disappearing from the guard’s sight for a split second before reappearing behind him, driving both daggers into the man’s back.

  The guard let out a strangled cry as he fell to the ground, his sword clattering to the floor.

  With the sixth guard down, Thorne turned back to the fifth guard, who was still reeling from the wound in his side. Rhea saw her opening and unleashed a powerful overhead strike, her greatsword cleaving through the guard’s helmet and splitting his skull. The man crumpled to the ground, his lifeless body joining the others.

  Just as he turned to help Rhea, a new guard came barreling out of nowhere, his face twisted in fury. Thorne barely had time to react before the guard was on him, slamming into him with the force of a charging bull. Thorne was knocked off his feet, his daggers clattering to the ground as he was sent sprawling.

  The guard loomed over him, sword raised for a killing blow. But before he could strike, Rhea was there, her sword flashing as she drove it into the man’s back. The guard let out a choked gasp, his body going rigid as the blade pierced through him. He toppled forward, landing on top of Thorne with a heavy thud.

  “Get off,” Thorne grunted, shoving the dead weight off of him. He scrambled to his feet, retrieving his daggers as he did. He turned to thank Rhea, but his words died in his throat when he saw her.

  She was standing, but just barely. Blood was seeping from a deep gash in her side, staining her armor a dark crimson. Her face was pale, her breathing labored.

  Thorne watched her for a moment, his mind racing. The temptation to leave her behind was strong but he ultimately decided he couldn’t leave her here, not like this. They had to keep moving. He slipped an arm around her, supporting her weight as they began to retreat. The hallway behind them was littered with bodies, but there was no time to linger.

  “We need to get out of here before more of them show up,” Thorne said urgently, scanning their surroundings for an escape route. His Escape Artist skill was still active, guiding him toward the nearest exit. “Can you walk?”

  Rhea nodded weakly, gritting her teeth against the pain. “I’m not dead yet,” she muttered, though her voice lacked its usual fire.

  They moved as quickly as they could, Thorne half-carrying Rhea as they navigated the winding corridors. The sounds of pursuit were growing louder—more guards would be on them soon. They had to reach the courtyard, had to get outside before it was too late.

  At last, they reached the door that led to the courtyard. Thorne hesitated for just a moment, listening for any signs of movement outside. When he was sure the coast was clear, he pushed the door open and they slipped out into the night.

  The courtyard was still teeming with guards, but they were focused on securing the palace and rounding up the nobles. Thorne and Rhea moved along the shadows, staying low and quiet as they made their way toward the outer walls. Rhea was struggling to keep up, her breathing ragged, but she refused to stop.

  They reached the edge of the courtyard, where a small gate led out into the city. Thorne hesitated again, scanning the area for any sign of danger. When he was sure it was safe, he pushed the gate open and they slipped through.

  They were outside, but they weren’t safe yet. The city was still on high alert, and they would have to be careful to avoid detection. Thorne tightened his grip on Rhea, guiding her through the narrow streets and alleys as they made their escape.

  He didn’t know where the others were, didn’t know if they had survived the night. But right now, all that mattered was getting to safety. They could worry about the rest later.

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