The ruins swallowed them whole, their jagged remains casting long shadows under the moonlight. Kieran kept close to Julian, his breath shallow, heart pounding in rhythm with their hurried steps. The hooded man led the way, his movements precise, as if he knew the landscape by heart.

After what felt like an eternity, he stopped at the edge of a collapsed temple, partially hidden beneath a wall of ivy. “In here,” he ordered, slipping through the narrow opening.

Kieran hesitated for only a moment before following. Julian came last, his expression sharp with distrust.

The inside was just as ruined as the outside—broken pillars, shattered stone, dust floating in the stagnant air. But it was secluded, and for now, that was enough.

Julian crossed his arms. “Talk. Why did you help us?”

The man pulled back his hood, revealing dark hair streaked with silver at the temples, and sharp green eyes that held too much amusement for the situation. “My name is Elias. And let’s just say I have my own reasons for wanting you alive.”

Julian’s jaw clenched. “That’s not an answer.”

Elias sighed, brushing dust off his leather gloves. “Fine. Your escape caused quite the uproar. The city’s on high alert, and everyone with a blade is out hunting for you. That includes people I’d rather not see succeed.”

Kieran frowned. “So this is about politics?”

Elias chuckled. “Isn’t it always?”

Julian’s fingers twitched near his sword hilt. “And what do you want from us in return?”

Elias smirked, stepping closer. “Nothing… yet.”

Kieran exchanged a wary glance with Julian. Nothing came without a price. Elias might have helped them tonight, but there was no telling what he’d demand later.

Elias stretched, looking far too relaxed. “For now, rest. You won’t get far in your condition.” His gaze flicked to Kieran’s arm, where the poison still left a dull ache beneath his skin. “I have supplies. Use them or don’t. Your choice.”

He turned and strode toward a makeshift pile of blankets near the temple’s broken altar, dropping onto them with ease. “Try not to kill each other before morning.”

Kieran exhaled, rolling his shoulders. His body ached from the night’s events, but sleep wasn’t an option—not yet.

Julian, still stiff with suspicion, sighed and rubbed his temple. “This is a mistake.”

Kieran looked at him, his voice quiet but firm. “Maybe. But we don’t have any better options.”

Julian didn’t argue, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease either. Instead, he took a spot near the entrance, sword within reach, eyes locked onto Elias.

Kieran settled down, exhaustion weighing on him. For now, they were safe. But deep down, he knew their troubles were far from over.

To be continued...