The night air was cold and still. It has gone quiet in a way that even trained men were on alert. The moon wasn’t so bright, and the darkness around the dungeons was complete, broken only by the occasional flickers of torch from the battlements above and a few around the stone walls.

The patrol guards stationed outside kept their usual positions, some holding their weight on their spears, others pacing slowly to stay awake.

From the darkness beyond the outer walls, thirty figures moved as one, a single organism of shadow and cloth. They wore dark clothing from head to toe. Their faces were wrapped, leaving only their eyes exposed. They had no armor or unnecessary gear. Some had two swords strapped behind them, some had knives strapped to their legs and an axe in hand, and five of them had a small hand crossbow loaded with bolts. Their boots made no sound on the earth as they moved, steady and controlled.

They were assassins. Men trained for one purpose. To kill.

They approached the outer walls of the dungeon with care. The leader of the assassins was walking slightly ahead. He raised a closed fist, and they halted. He used a series of hand signals, cutting the air with precise gestures toward the men.

Seven men peeled off to the left, moving towards the outer gate; their task was to take out the patrol guards. Some moved to the right, circling toward the rear of the dungeon where a drainage outlet provided a narrow entrance. Their task was to enter directly. More men broke away and went to the front, taking positions behind low shrubs and outcrops of rock. The men with crossbows climbed the wall like a shadow and made it to the battlement. The remaining men, including the leader, moved to the center, pressing themselves against the outer wall directly beside the main gate.

The men assigned to the patrol guards moved with lethal efficiency. One guard was leaning against the gate post, his spear resting against his shoulder. The other was passing a short line, his back to his companion. Another was whistling to stay awake. The leader held three fingers up. One finger down. Two fingers down. Three.

Then they moved. One assassin clamped a hand over the pacing guard’s mouth while driving a knife under his ribs, severing the aorta. The man slumped with no sound. The others struck more guards. One took a guard’s throat from the front with a short blade, and the other seized his spear to prevent it from hitting the ground. Then they dragged bodies into the shadow of the gate, laying them flat. At the top, the men reached their positions. They loaded their crossbows with bolts laced with wolf-bane, a neurotoxin that caused rapid paralysis and then respiratory failure.

And they aimed at the guards. The bolts shot out fast and silently. They struck skin. The guards barely had time to react. One dropped his spear and grabbed his throat. One had it in his torso, and he fell forward, his body hitting the stone with a dull thud. One stumbled back, eyes wide, then collapsed beside him.

The assassins advanced in small groups, taking down guards one by one as planned—quick strikes. Clean kills. No hesitation.

The leader signaled again. The men at the rear began their entry through the drainage outlet. The leader and the other men prepared to breach the main gate.

Then one of the guards stepped out and saw that it was empty. He saw movement where there should have been none. His eyes widened.

"Intruders! Intruders! Intru—"

The leader was already there. His blade flashed once. The guard’s voice cut off. His body dropped in two separate motions.

Silence returned for a brief second. The assassins slipped through the main gate and entered the dungeon floor.

Inside the dungeon, Galen stood near Eirene’s cell. The corridor was dimly lit by a few torches mounted in the walls. The shout had reached him clearly.

Galen didn’t react with panic. His face stayed calm. He raised two fingers to his mouth and gave a sharp whistle. The sound carried through the corridors. His men burst from empty cells with their swords drawn. They moved quickly, surrounding every passage that might give the intruders an entry.

"Protect the dungeons! Kill the intruders!" Galen barked out orders.

The prisoners panicked as a fight erupted. Steel struck steel. The assassins were fast and precise, but Galen’s men were armored and had the advantage of numbers and position. Theron had predicted it. And Galen had prepared for the intrusion tonight.

Steel met steel. The sound echoed through the stone halls. One assassin took a sword slash across his arm, his knife falling from a nerveless hand, and was immediately struck down by a second soldier. Another assassin killed one of Galen’s men, driving a dagger through a gap in his armor at the neck. As he withdrew the blade, another soldier behind him drove a sword through his lower back.

The sound of the fight was loud, and it spread across the dungeon. Blood was sprayed across the stone floor. Bodies fell.

Soldiers made their way to the battlement. The assassins fired bolts at them. It only took one soldier, while the others raised their shields, and the bolts thudded into the woods. The assassins abandoned their crossbows and drew out their swords.

Eirene, in her cell near the far end, had been dozing off. At the first sound of the whistle, she jolted up from sleep and rushed towards the iron gate. The chains burned her skin, so she backed away immediately. Her breathing quickened. She could see movement outside. Shadows passing. Men fighting. She retreated to the rear end of the cell. She pulled her knees slightly inward, trying to make herself smaller.

The leader of the assassins broke through the line, his eyes fixed on the cell where he knew Eirene was held. He moved with controlled speed, dodging a swing from one of Galen’s soldiers, cutting through his forearm, and forcing him to drop his sword. He did not stop to finish the man. He pushed forward.

Galen saw him. He stepped forward, positioning himself directly between the assassin leader and the corridor leading to Eirene’s cell. He held the hilt of his sword.

The leader stopped a few feet away from Galen. He held his sword tightly. His mission was to kill Eirene.