Sylpha had one goal: kill the mysterious man who destroyed her village.
She joined him on his travels, pretending to be an ally while waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Every step of their journey, she studied him—his habits, his weaknesses, the way he carried himself with infuriating confidence. She swore she would reclaim her stolen treasure and restore peace to her life, even if it meant burying a dagger in his back. No matter how carefully she plotted, he was always one step ahead. Every ambush failed. Every trap backfired. At a roadside inn, Sylpha saw her chance. The man’s guard was down, his back turned. She struck—dagger flashing in the dim candlelight.
But before the blade could find its mark, his hand snapped around her wrist. A smirk curled on his lips as he forced her against the wall.
“Persistent, aren’t you?”
