Chapter 24 - Echoes of Assault
Liam slumped against the garden table, sweat-soaked and panting, the jug of water cool against his lips as he chugged. The morning's sparring with Lysandra had left his arms jelly, eight losses stinging less now that he'd followed it with extra push-ups and squats—system's orders, relentless as ever. The cold stone under his ass grounded him, the dull ache in his thighs a quiet badge of progress. Selene and Erynn lingered nearby, Selene sharpening a dagger with lazy flicks, Erynn humming as she stretched, her golden hair catching the midday sun.
"Magic time soon," Erynn chirped, hopping up, brushing grass off her knees. "Ready to zap something, Hero?"
Liam groaned, setting the jug down with a clunk. "Can't I just... not? My arms are dead, and Lysandra's still got my pride in a chokehold." He flexed a hand, wincing, but grinned anyway—half-joking, half-serious.
"No breaks," she teased, wagging a finger. "C'mon, inside—we'll start small. Maybe light a candle or something." She turned, bouncing toward the house, and Liam hauled himself up, muttering curses about the system's grind.
Selene smirked, sheathing her blade. "Don't fry yourself, Hero. I'd hate to miss the show." Her tail flicked his leg as she sauntered past, and he rolled his eyes, following them in. The house was quiet, cool air a relief from the garden's heat, and Erynn led him to a small room—stone walls, a table with a single candle, no windows. She shut the door, grinning.
"Focus," she said, pointing at the wick. "System's got you juiced—feel it, push it out. Simple."
Liam squinted at the candle, rubbing his hands. "Right. Focus. Zap. Easy." He closed his eyes, reaching for that buzz he'd felt since the power-ups—the hum in his veins, faint but there. Nothing. He cracked an eye, frowning. "Uh... any tips?"
Erynn giggled, stepping closer. "Imagine it—like heat, or a spark. Picture it jumping from you to that." She tapped the candle, her fingers brushing his arm, and he nodded, trying again. A flicker—something—tingled in his chest, and he pushed, hard. The wick smoked, then flared, a tiny flame spitting to life.
"Holy shit!" he laughed, fists pumping. "I did it—look at that!"
Erynn clapped, beaming. "See? Told you—small, but it's a start!" She leaned in, inspecting the flame, when the door slammed open, wood banging stone.
A messenger stumbled in—young, armored, his face pale and streaked with sweat, a sealed scroll clutched tight. "Hero—ladies—" he gasped, doubling over, breath ragged. "From the king—urgent—"
Liam's grin dropped, the candle forgotten. "What's up?" he asked, stepping forward, the buzz in his chest shifting to a knot. Erynn grabbed the scroll, breaking the wax, her eyes scanning fast. Selene appeared in the doorway, tail snapping, Lysandra right behind her, silver hair loose from its tie.
"Thalrune," Erynn said, voice tight, shoving the scroll at Lysandra. "Attacked—last night. Forces hit hard, overwhelmed the garrison. No word since dawn—city's gone silent."
Lysandra's eyes narrowed, scanning the words. "Maltheris," she spat, crumpling the paper. "His stench is all over this—fast, brutal, cutting lines. Thalrune's a trade hub—Eryndor's lifeline. If it's down..."
"Damn," Selene growled, claws flexing. "He's moving—testing us, hitting where it hurts." She turned to the messenger, who flinched under her glare. "Casualties? Survivors?"
"Unknown," he stammered, straightening. "Scouts saw smoke, heard screams—then nothing. King's rallying troops, wants the Hero there—now."
Liam blinked, the room tilting. "Me? Why—what am I supposed to do?" His voice cracked, half-laugh, half-panic. Thalrune—never heard of it, but the girls' faces said it was big. His candle trick felt like a joke now.
Lysandra grabbed his shoulder, grip firm. "You're the Hero, Liam. King Altheron calling you in—means he trusts you're ready, or close enough. Maltheris isn't playing—this is war." Her silver eyes bored into him, steady but urgent.
Erynn nodded, her grin gone. "We barely held Mytheris—Thalrune's worse. He's picking us apart, keeping us scrambling. You've got to step up—magic, combat, all of it."
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Selene's tail lashed, her smirk bitter. "Wish I could've ended him myself—slit his throat and watched him bleed. But he's slippery—hitting cities, not faces. Bastard."
Liam rubbed his neck, the ache in his arms forgotten, replaced by a cold weight. "So... what, we ride out? Fight? I just lit a damn candle—how's that gonna stop this guy?" His gut churned—Maltheris was real now, not just a name, and he was tearing shit up.
"Doesn't matter," Lysandra said, releasing him, grabbing her cloak from a hook. "You train on the way—magic, sword, whatever we can cram in. King's waiting—means Thalrune's a signal. We move, now."
The messenger nodded, backing out. "Carriage outside—ready when you are." He bolted, boots echoing down the hall.
Liam glanced at the candle, its tiny flame flickering, then at the girls—Lysandra buckling her gear, Selene cracking her knuckles, Erynn pulling a staff from the corner. "Guess break's over," he muttered, a weak grin tugging his lips. "Thalrune, huh? Sounds like a party."
"More like a slaughter," Selene shot back, but her eyes softened, just a flick. "Stick close, Hero. You're not useless—yet."
Erynn slung the staff over her shoulder, nudging him. "C'mon, magic boy—let's see if you can spark more than a wick on the road." She winked, but it was tense, her bounce muted.
Lysandra led the way, door swinging wide. "Move," she barked, and they followed—Liam last, snagging his sword from the table, the weight unfamiliar but growing on him. The system pinged in his head—Task Updated: Aid Thalrune—and he groaned inwardly. Peaceful? Bullshit. Maltheris was fucking with them, and he was stuck in the middle—half-trained, half-cocked, but in it now. Distraction or not, he thought, boots hitting the stone, I'm not sitting this out.