Aidan moved swiftly through the burning remnants of The Dragon's Den, his boots crunching over shattered marble and blood soaked floors. Dragon Skin was running.
"Coward."
The crime lord had led a life of unchecked brutality, his hands steeped in the blood of the innocent. And yet, when faced with death himself, he chose to flee.
Aidan would not let him escape.
Gun raised, he followed the trail of destruction. Smoke curled through the air, the acrid scent of gunpowder stinging his nose. The hidden passage behind the throne had led him deep into the underbelly of the compound, through winding corridors and ancient tunnels lined with flickering torchlight.
Dragon Skin's voice echoed ahead.
"Stay away, assassin!"
Aidan ignored him, his movements relentless.
The passage opened into a vast chamber.
Aidan stepped inside then froze.
The room was unlike anything he had ever seen.
Golden artifacts lined the walls, shelves overflowing with relics from ages past. Ancient weapons, rusted yet still sharp, hung beside shattered statues of forgotten deities. Scrolls of parchment lay scattered across stone pedestals, their faded ink whispering secrets lost to time.
And there, in the center of it all...
Dragon Skin.
The crime lord stood amid the relics, his breathing ragged. Blood oozed from the knife wound Aidan had inflicted earlier, staining his silk shirt. Yet his eyes still burned with defiance.
"You have no idea what this place is," he sneered, wiping blood from his mouth. "This is history. Power. You think you've won?" He let out a harsh laugh. "Killing me will change nothing."
Aidan leveled his pistol.
"Then let's test that theory."
Dragon Skin roared, charging forward.
Aidan fired.
The first bullet struck the crime lord's shoulder, snapping his body sideways. But Dragon Skin was too far gone to feel pain. He lunged, swinging a jagged blade.
Aidan sidestepped, slamming his elbow into Dragon Skin's ribs.
The crime lord grunted, but he was strong inhumanly so. He retaliated with a brutal backhand that sent Aidan staggering.
They clashed in a storm of fists and steel.
Aidan ducked under a wild swing, driving his knife into Dragon Skin's side. The crime lord howled, but instead of retreating, he grabbed Aidan by the throat and slammed him against the stone wall.
The impact rattled Aidan's skull.
Dragon Skin bared his teeth. "You should've stayed dead."
With a surge of strength, Aidan twisted free, ramming his knee into Dragon Skin's gut. The crime lord doubled over, and Aidan seized the moment.
His knife flashed...
A deep slash across the throat.
Dragon Skin staggered back, eyes wide. He clutched his neck, blood spurting between his fingers. He gurgled, trying to speak, then fell.
The crime lord of The Dragon's Den was dead.
Aidan exhaled. His heartbeat slowed.
It was over.
He turned his attention to the room.
The artifacts were unlike anything he had ever encountered. Some looked ancient impossibly old. Weapons from forgotten wars, jewelry from extinct civilizations. And at the far end of the chamber, partially hidden beneath a tattered black sheet...
A mirror.
Something about it made Aidan's skin prickle.
He hesitated, then stepped closer.
The mirror was tall, its frame carved from obsidian black metal. Strange symbols were etched along its edges, pulsating faintly as if alive. The glass itself was darker than midnight, reflecting nothing.
Aidan frowned.
An uneasy feeling crept down his spine.
He reached out...
Pulled the sheet away.
The air shifted.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three...
Aidan's stomach twisted. His pulse thundered. A heavy weight settled over him, pressing into his bones. His limbs tingled, a creeping numbness spreading through his body.
He tried to step back.
Too late.
The mirror pulled him.
Aidan's body jerked forward, his reflection distorting, his vision warping into a swirl of darkness.
He struggled, digging his heels into the ground, but the force was overwhelming. It dragged him, consuming him.
The last thing he heard was the silence of the chamber vanishing....
Then...
Nothing.
Blackness.
---
Pain.
Aidan's eyes snapped open.
His body ached, his head pounding like a war drum. The sensation of falling still clung to his skin, as if he had been ripped from reality itself.
He groaned, pushing himself up.
Where was he?
He looked around.
A forest.
But not like any forest he had ever seen before.
The trees were twisted, gnarled things, their bark blackened and rotting. The sky above was a dull, sickly gray, casting everything in an eerie half-light. A thick, unnatural fog curled between the trunks, moving like living shadows.
The air was heavy, filled with the scent of decay.
Aidan reached for his pistol, gone.
His knife? Also gone.
He clenched his fists, forcing his mind to stay calm.
Survival. That was all that mattered now.
He took a slow breath and started walking, the dead leaves crunching beneath his boots.
Somewhere, in the distance, a sound echoed.
Not an animal.
Not human.
Something else.
Aidan narrowed his eyes.
Where the hell was he?
...