The fire was behind them. But the truth—they were running straight into it.
William clutched the blade tighter in his fist. The heat stung his eyes, smoke chasing them through the cracked stones of the forest path. His chest burned, not from running—but from everything he had just seen. His father, his brother... gone. Blood in the dust. He could still see it when he blinked. Still hear the sickening thud when Marcus's head dropped to the wood.
He turned to Robert Bruce, the hooded man beside him—his father's old friend. Or maybe a liar. Maybe a traitor.
"You served Russel," William said, voice hoarse from smoke and grief.
"I did," Bruce replied, not slowing. "I also watched him destroy everything I believed in. That's why I'm helping you now. Your uncle planned this. I'm just the hand."
"Uncle Marcus is dead."
Bruce shook his head. "Not that Marcus."
William stumbled to a stop. His lungs gasped for air. "What?"
"There's another. Your father's brother. He's alive. He's waiting."
"You're lying."
"No time for doubt, boy. If we don't move now, you'll never meet him."
Flames flickered in the treeline behind them. The king's men had torches. Hounds. Steel. And orders to kill.
Bruce grabbed his arm. "Run."
They sprinted again, deeper into the trees. The path bent into roots and thorns. The night howled around them. Then the forest opened suddenly—revealing a crumbling stone ruin with a round iron grate buried in the dirt.
Bruce knelt, yanked it open with a loud creak, and waved William in.
"A tunnel?"
"A last escape."
William hesitated. The dark below reeked of damp and rot.
"Is he down there?"
Bruce gave a grim smile. "He will be."
William climbed into the hole, his blade strapped tight across his back. Bruce followed, pulling the grate shut behind them. Everything went black.
The tunnel was narrow, barely wide enough to walk straight. Dirt walls scraped their shoulders. The ground was slick with old water and mud.
Torches flared behind them. Soldiers shouting.
Bruce shoved him forward. "Faster."
They moved like rats through a dying body. The tunnel groaned around them.
"Where does this go?" William asked.
Bruce's answer was clipped. "Somewhere the king won't follow."
The ground shook.
A blast echoed from behind.
Firelight burst into the tunnel.
"They found the entrance!" Bruce cursed.
The smoke came fast. Thick and alive. It clawed down the tunnel like a hungry beast.
William coughed hard, eyes stinging. His boots slipped on the wet stone. He caught himself on the wall.
"Keep going!" Bruce yelled.
William pushed forward, one foot at a time, the dark pressing tighter.
Then, suddenly—hands grabbed him.
Rough. Fast.
He cried out, raised the blade—
"Easy!"
A face came into view—lit by a flickering torch. Deep lines. Gray eyes. A scar down the right cheek.
"Uncle Marcus," the man said. "We don't have time for greetings."
William froze. His mind spun. "You're—"
"Yes. Come on."
Another rumble shook the tunnel. Dirt rained from above.
Bruce staggered behind them, coughing, waving smoke away.
"You found him," Marcus said. "Good. But we've got minutes."
"Not even that," Bruce answered.
Marcus turned. "William. You trust me?"
William stared at him. A stranger—but something in his face, in his voice, felt like home.
He nodded once.
"Then follow."
Marcus spun and took off down the left side of the fork in the tunnel.
William chased him. The tunnel twisted like a serpent. Roots dangled from the ceiling. The walls narrowed.
Suddenly, a gate. Rusted. Half-broken.
Marcus kicked it hard—it gave way with a crack.
They burst into a larger chamber—stone walls, ancient carvings, water dripping from above.
William looked around, panting. "What is this place?"
"A burial vault. Old kingdom days. Forgotten."
Another blast echoed from behind. Heat swept in with the smoke.
Marcus pointed across the chamber to a ladder rising into darkness. "That's your way out. Up there."
William moved toward it—
But Bruce didn't follow.
"I'll hold them," Bruce said.
"No—"
"Go."
His eyes met William's. "Your father believed in you. So do I. Don't waste it."
Then he turned, sword drawn, and ran back into the smoke.
William's chest ached, but Marcus didn't stop.
"Up. Now."
They climbed fast. The ladder groaned under their weight. Steps cracked. Smoke chased them up every rung.
William's lungs burned. The blade on his back felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.
Finally—light.
A grate.
Marcus slammed it open. Fresh air hit them like cold water. They crawled out into moonlight.
They were in the highlands. Miles from the capital.
Behind them, fire climbed into the sky from the forest.
Marcus shut the grate. "It's done. They can't follow."
William stood slowly, staring at the flames. "Bruce is still down there."
Marcus placed a hand on his shoulder. "He knew the cost."
William turned, his voice like broken glass. "Why didn't I know about you?"
Marcus looked away. "Your father sent me into exile after the uprising failed. Said it was the only way to protect the last piece of the bloodline."
"I thought I was the last piece."
"You were the hope. I was the blade in the shadows."
William didn't know what to say. His whole world had cracked open in two days. Now he stood beside an uncle he never knew, holding a sword meant for a king, hunted by the crown's dogs.
"I'm going to kill Russel," he said quietly.
Marcus didn't smile. Didn't nod. Just looked him in the eyes. "Then we'll need an army."
The wind shifted. Horses in the distance.
Marcus cursed. "They're tracking us. Move."
They sprinted through the trees. The moon lit the way, silver over branches.
They didn't stop until the land broke into cliffs and rivers.
They found a cave hidden in the rocks. Dry. Cold. Safe for now.
Marcus lit a small flame. "Rest. We move at dawn."
William lay down, blade beside him. But sleep didn't come.
He stared at the stars through the cracks in the stone.
He saw his father's eyes. His brother's blood. Bruce's last look.
And Russel's smile.
He whispered to the night, "I'll see you again. And when I do…"
The blade beside him pulsed, warm and hungry.
Suddenly—
A shadow passed at the cave's mouth.
William sat up. "Did you hear that?"
Marcus stood, blade drawn.
The flame flickered.
Then—steel clashed.
Screams.
Blood splattered across the wall.
William's heart dropped as he saw Marcus fall to his knees—an arrow buried in his back.
"Run—" Marcus gasped.
William turned—only to find himself staring into the eyes of King Russel's assassin—face pale as bone, lips stitched shut, blade dripping with fresh blood.
The man raised his sword—
And the cave exploded in flame.
Russel's most feared killer has found William. And now… there's no tunnel left to run to.