Keepers Fall

How do you deal with a political elite that is destroying the lives of its people? Assassins...

The Island has a problem with its ruling class. A problem a sacred sect called the Keepers will fix. Jerin and Brea strive in the shadows to preserve the race of men and this is just another task to be done. But when the two assassins find the one thing they don't expect, their duty falls away and a fight for the future of the world begins.

Magic was destroyed long ago. A plague killed the others. History is as the people have always known. It's not like everything the Keepers know is a lie... or is it?

Keepers Fall Chapter 1

Keepers Fall Chapter 1

What worked in the shadows was hidden, a skill known to few. But it was not the festive music playing across the quiet city of Cyr that made it so easy for them. As the moon was high above rain soaked streets and a single dancing fountain bounced almost to the music
echoing across the stone buildings. In this courtyard, four statues, representing the opulent rulers of the Island, looked on in blank expression.

Those in within the dark alleys had used the advantage of the night as it was. The bright colored dresses of the
dancers, the wine flowing like a river from bottle to cup, the merriment... It all helped to mask them and their movement.

In such a shroud of shrieking
revelry, no one would pay attention. No one cared.

The Lord of Ravila district looked on from his high tower above the main promenade of celebration. His servants,
tied by chains in a string of human suffering, served his every need.

But that was not why they had come.

No, their masters cared little of
suffering, of slavery, of disgusting inebriation of the sense.

Cyr needed to be tamed.

“Now,now! More wine!” the Lord growled, ringing his bell.

He had finished four bottles
already but for a man like him, the night was just beginning.

“Show them to me, show them to me now!”

A woman standing in the corner of the balcony cowered, a new addition to the Lord’s
purchases.

“You will bare your chest to me, I own you. You do what I say!”

The woman was shaking, struggling to catch her breath.

The Lord went to stand, he staggered but still went towards her.

“You will learn your place!”

The woman fell to the ground,
sinking her head in her palms. She didn’t know what would happen and she began to cry when she felt a faint breeze in the air.

She looked between cracks in her fingers and saw a shadow, a quick form moving from the open window of the tower. Then, she heard a gasp, over and over, then choking.

She lowered her hands to see two figures, both had their faces covered. They were wearing black clothing and
they both had slender silver blades.

Her master was face down, a
sanguine puddle growing around him. He was dead.

One of the two figures nodded, the woman couldn’t tell much, but it looked to be a man. He vanished overthe railing as the other figure began towards her.

She scooted backwards, trying to get away when the remaining figure knelt.

“You are free of your master,” they said, softly.

It was another woman.

“Thank—you—,” she squeaked out in reply.

The figure said nothing, backed away, and then vanished over the railing following the other.

A Lord of Cyr was dead. His slaves would free themselves and flee. The Keepers were bringing a true order to the
world.

Or so, they believed.