The first time Kairo Ren killed a man, he didn’t flinch.It was raining hard that night. The kind of storm that masked the sound of steel slicing through flesh. His blade, soaked in crimson, had slipped between the ribs of a warlord twice his size. One clean strike—just as Master Tenzin taught him. No emotion. No hesitation. Just precision.That was seven years ago.Tonight, the rain returned.Kairo crouched on the temple rooftop, black robes clinging to his lean frame, breath calm despite the storm swirling above. Below, lanterns flickered across the courtyard of the Eastern Archive—a place forbidden to all but the highest elders of the Shadow Sect.But Kairo wasn’t here for scrolls or secrets.He was here for answers.He leaped from the roof, landing silently on the wet stone like a ghost. His gloved hand reached into his sash and drew a blade so dark it reflected nothing—not the moon, not the torches, not the blood it had spilled. The Voidfang—a weapon forged in silence, just like

They moved through the valley like phantoms.Kairo’s wounds still throbbed beneath the fresh wrappings Ayame had secured over his ribs, but he pushed forward without complaint. Pain was familiar now. Expected. It sharpened his senses like a whetstone on a blade.Ayame walked beside him, light on her feet, scanning the path with sharp eyes and an ever-present half-smirk on her lips. She whistled a soft tune as if they weren’t being hunted by elite assassins from the most feared sect in the realm.“You always this cheerful when walking into potential death?” Kairo asked.“Only when I’m with good company,” she replied. “And you, my dear ex-assassin, are a walking invitation to chaos.”He didn’t respond. Not verbally. But something in his expression softened.Their destination was clear: Ravenspire, an outlaw town tucked between the jaws of two blackened cliffs. No kings ruled there. No laws applied. Only the strong thrived. And more importantly, Ravenspire was the only place Kairo could

The road to the Whispering Monastery was not marked on any map.It wound through forgotten trails and broken lands, a place where silence hung heavier than fog, and even the birds seemed to fear their own wings. The Blackwind Cliffs rose in the east like jagged fangs—cold, ancient, and unwelcoming. Beneath them coiled a path known only in whispers: the Road of Bones.Kairo and Ayame rode in silence, the horses’ hooves muffled by the damp soil. It had rained recently, and the scent of wet earth clung to everything. The trees grew twisted here, like they had seen too much and bent away from the weight of their own memories.“How far?” Ayame asked, her voice breaking the quiet.“Two days, maybe three,” Kairo replied. “If we don’t run into trouble.”Ayame gave a dry chuckle. “We always run into trouble.They made camp beneath a rock overhang the first night. The fire was small—just enough to keep warm, not enough to be seen. Kairo sat sharpening his blade, not for necessity but for rhythm

The wind howled over the cliffs, carrying the cold bite of the north. Training had ended hours ago, yet Kairo still stood in the courtyard, bruised, battered, and motionless, staring at the Ember Tree like it held all the answers he didn’t know how to ask.He held the scroll tighter in his hand, his father’s words echoing in his head:> “To rise from ashes, you must first burn.”He wasn’t sure what it meant yet. But something about it struck deeper than any blade.Behind him, footsteps padded across the stone.“You're going to catch your death out here,” Ayame said gently.He turned and gave her a tired smile. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing that’s happened this week.”She stepped beside him, pulling her shawl tighter against the wind. “You know, when I first met you, I thought you were reckless. Loud. Always ready to punch your way through things.”Kairo raised a brow. “And now?”“Now I know you're stubborn,” she said, then added softly, “But you care. Even when you don’t want to.”He l

The scent of blood still clung to the walls.Smoke lingered like a ghost above the Whispering Monastery, rising into the pale dawn sky. What had once been a sanctuary of silence and balance now felt... hollow. Kairo stood barefoot in the ruins of the eastern courtyard, eyes fixed on the shattered bell.No one dared to ring it again.Behind him, monks moved with quiet urgency—burying the dead, tending to the wounded, whispering ancient prayers into the wind. The Ember Tree, though untouched by flame, seemed darker now, as though it mourned with them.Ayame found him there, her shoulder bandaged, face tired.“You’ve been out here for hours,” she said.Kairo didn’t turn. “I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see her. That mask. Her voice.”Ayame exhaled and walked up beside him. “Serika.”“She killed my mother,” he said, his voice low and heavy. “And she used to fight beside my father. What happened to her? What happened to them all?”Ayame glanced at the monks behind them. “Some