CHAPTER 106: AM I AVENGING OR REVENGING?

Noah leaned back in his chair, his voice cold. "In the past three months," he began, "I’ve been subjected to something... enlightening."

His shadows rippled as if they were echoing his words. "A spell. Inflicted on me over and over again until it carved itself into me. So deep, it became part of my soul. My soul, right now, is a spell parchment for it."

The assassins stiffened, glancing nervously at each other.

Noah smiled faintly at the sight, but there was no warmth in it. "Without that lingering imprint, I wouldn’t even dare attempt what I’m about to attempt. But... fortunately for me," he raised his hand, waves of fire licking to life above it, "the spell happens to use the Fire affinity. One of my many affinities."

He let the fire dance a little higher, its glow throwing monstrous shadows on the walls. "It’s called Soul Pyre. An S-rank spell. Don’t ask me how I know its name. Personally, I think it’s because the spell is imprinted in my soul."

"The spell was designed to burn not flesh, not bone... but the soul itself." His eyes narrowed, the fire reflected in them. "I’m looking forward to using it on a certain... someone. Poetic justice of you will."

"But for now..." He tapped his temple with one finger. "Practice."

He dredged the memory from the pit of his mind, the spell formation seared into him by Osiris’ countless torments. The lines and runes came unbidden, burned into his memory like scars.

He lifted his hand, and with an exhale, traced them into the air.

A glowing red circle bloomed into existence, intricate and perfect, burning with the energy of despair.

Noah blinked, then laughed. "I got it on the first try. Of course. It’s practically me now." He gestured, and the spell formation shimmered, humming with terrible promise.

Leaning forward, he fixed his gaze on the assassins. "Now then. Who sent you?"

The assassins hesitated, their lips tight, sweat beading down their faces. Noah’s smile faded.

"So be it." He whispered.

The formation flared, and fire leapt across the air, latching onto the first assassin.

The man’s body convulsed as the flames wreathed him, not searing his skin, but digging deeper, clawing at the unseen.

He screamed, a high, ragged sound that echoed off the walls.

Noah watched, eyes half-lidded. "Hmm. Interesting."

The assassin’s cries choked, his body collapsing forward. But before he could even slump fully to the ground, his body broke apart, crumbling, scattering into motes of nothingness, as though he had never existed. His soul, his essence, was gone.

Noah blinked once, then chuckled softly. "Ah. I forgot to regulate it. It was too strong for his soul. An S-rank spell doesn’t forgive mistakes, does it?" His grin widened. "So fragile."

The second assassin stared at the empty space where his companion had been, his whole body trembling. Noah turned his gaze on him, the fire still swirling in his palm.

"Once again," Noah said smoothly, tilting his head, "who sent you?"

The assassin broke instantly. "Lord Rowe!" he blurted, his voice cracking. "It was Lord Rowe!"

"He ordered us to immobilize you, take you out of the academy, and deliver you to him alive! I swear it’s the truth! Please! Please don’t—"

Noah’s shadows froze, the room dropping into a silence so heavy it was almost like a physical weight had settled over the assassin.

Noah studied the man, eyes unblinking.

"Lord Rowe..." Noah repeated, savoring the name, his tone dripping with venom. "Good. That’s what I needed."

The fire in his hand flickered and faded, and the assassin exhaled in relief.

Then, Noah raised his other hand.

"Devour."

Black tendrils of darkness spilled from his palm, writhing hungrily.

The assassin sobbed, struggling against the shadows pinning him down. "No! Please!"

The darkness surged, wrapping around him, pulling him towards the yawning mouth that formed in the shadow stained floor.

His screams were muffled, cut off as the Devour swallowed him whole. His body, his soul, his presence, all erased.

The ward fell utterly silent again. Not even the whispers of Noah’s shadows dared intrude.

Noah sat back in his chair, exhaling slowly. His grin was faint now, a razor thin line of satisfaction.

"No traces," he murmured, glancing at the clean floor. "As if you were never here."

He leaned his head back, letting his eyes drift shut for a moment. His shadows swirled close, whispering approval, laughter, hunger.

"Lord Rowe." Noah whispered to himself, a promise. "You’re going on the list."

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The sky beyond the tall windows of Lord Rowe’s study was streaked with pale gold as dawn crept across the horizon.

He stood there in silence, his armored frame tense, his eyes shadowed with fatigue.

His fingers drummed against the sill, every tap echoing like the pulse of his unspent rage.

The door creaked open. Garret, his right hand man, entered quietly, bowing low. His face was grim.

"They’re gone, my lord." Garret reported. "The traces we left on the assassins were severed sometime during the night. There’s nothing left of them. No signal. No remains. Dead."

Lord Rowe closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. His shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath. "Dead," he repeated, the word tasting like iron on his tongue.

He turned slightly, his face thrown into relief by the light of dawn. His gaze drifted back to the sky, but his voice lowered. "Tell me, Garret... am I doing the right thing?"

Garret hesitated. "My lord?"

Rowe’s hand clenched into a fist at his side. "My daughter lies in a coffin, her life stolen, her innocence twisted by demons. Every night, I hear my wife’s wails echoing through these halls. Every morning, I wake to this emptiness."

His voice cracked, briefly, but he forced it steady again. "I swore to protect her, Garret. And I failed. Now, every step I take, I wonder... am I chasing vengeance? Or am I avenging her?"

The room was filled with silence. Garret bowed his head, saying nothing. But he didn’t need to. Rowe could read the truth in the silence itself, in the stiffness of Garret’s posture.

Rowe exhaled slowly, his eyes burning. "I see." He murmured. "Even you doubt me."

He turned away from the window, his cloak flaring behind him, and strode back to the massive desk that dominated the study. He lowered himself into his seat, the carved wood groaning under his weight. For a long moment, he just sat there, hands steepled before his face.

Then he straightened, spine rigid, eyes cold. "No," he said firmly, his voice cold. "It doesn’t matter if this is vengeance or justice. To me, they are one and the same. The world took my daughter from me. And the world will pay."

Garret shifted, his mouth opening as if to speak, but Rowe cut him off with a raised hand.

"The assassins are gone. That path is closed." He tapped the desk slowly. "It is time for another plan."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "We will place a bounty."

Garret’s eyes flickered with alarm. "A bounty, my lord? On... Noah Webb?"

"Yes." Rowe’s voice was iron. "Noah Webb. The so-called hero. The boy tied to my daughter’s disappearance, the boy who slithered out of the Authority’s cells alive when she did not."

His fist slammed against the desk with a loud crack. "If the Authority cannot deliver me justice, then I will purchase it."

A/N: It is with great pleasure that I announce that character images have been added for Noah, Arlo, and Professor Cecilia. You can head to their character pages and vote for your favorite characters. Hope to see you there.