The Assassins Guilt

All Rights Reserved ©

chapter 3


Few months ago;

Ayusha Arthfael; heir of great assassin league. Son of Xsayarsa; the assassins head.

Arthfael; a name of war princes. Their blood full of courage, unyielding power, ferocity that no one had ever witnessed. Perfectly stealth bodies, untamed souls, dark locks of night, signature smoldering grey eyes, that no one could ever tell its way totally black or grey. Just slight glint of strong silver in them. Had killing calm of great warriors, skill, adroitness that adept into unyielding strength. Descendants of great War princes. Best killers that world ever saw.

Ayusha; a breathtaking assassin, yielding strong broad shoulders, lean and perfectly strong body of a fighter. Strong features of a night hawk, proud brows, straight, thin smooth lips and an angled jaw, with a slight stubble.

He strode through forest, with long angry strides. Well hidden in his dark cloak. Its hood covering his entire face, only showing a shadow of strong jaw.

Striding through jungle with hurried strides he was raging. Raging with wrecking fury. Often clutching his fingers then releasing them again and again until it became a reflex movement. His last mission was a disaster, a fucking massacre. It was wrong so wrong. His hands were still covered in their blood and gore. It was not what had been told to him. Those people were- raising his hands he rubbed his face; they were not meant to be killed by him. He never liked such slaughters. Where other person does not have a single chance to live, even if they struggled had, they could not outrun a professional killer. This was so wrong. His father knew that, knew that it disgusted him, to kill innocents. Why! Why him!

It left him angered, anxious and feeling disgusted. He liked his opponents worth killing, worth holding a fight long enough to quench his hunger. But it was useless. Those people were no match to his skills, just few beggars, fortune tellers and drunk bastards.

Slowing down his steps, he felt a slow headache, raising his hand he rubbed between his brows. Raised other one to pull down his hood, he froze mid action, pulling the hood now even closer to his face he straightened. Listening around for any voices. He stood there for a few seconds until he heard a branch twigging. Silently he climbed up the tree.

Raising his eyes, he felt them fall on a group. Slightly adjusting his position, he counted them 6. Five men and a girl. The shattered cloths of men matched that of guards. He sat there on a thick tree branch and observed them, one on right side was limping, another was being carried with the help of two other guards. The girl in her batted cloak was walking smoothly on forest bed, her steps were strong, not a ripple in her tread. He watched her fluent movements, her platinum hair going in waves on her shoulders, her shoulders squared, he could tell even from fifteen feet away that her manners were not just a pretense. They were enriched in her blood. Pondering he guessed she must be a noble woman.


Sitting on a branch of tree, in light of moon he gazed at beautiful river down. Poster relaxed, bending one leg he leaned against the trunk of tree. The smoothly flowing water in river relaxed his troubled soul. Full moon’s light falling lightly on waves, like tentatively make it rich with allure. Slowly little cloud slipped away from moon’s face, and he felt the rays of silver light fall on him light a curtain, raising his eyes, under the canopy of thick leaves he watched the moon, the beautiful globe in all his beauty. Closing his grey eyes, he signed slowly, etching the scene in his memory. Moments passed in utter bliss. Slowly opening his eyes, he gazed at river, at the smoothly rushing waves, they looked like delicate threads of a fine silk, dancing. Yes, they were dancing on an unknown tune.

And there she stood on the bank of river, grazing at the same scenes, is she thinking the same thing? Did the serenity of this scene brought peace to her? did it drive her thoughts away like his did. Her hood was down and slight breeze rustled her platinum locks. Her pale skin seemed to glow and there was such a shine in her blue eyes. Her deep blue eyes seemed to find their soul today. Feeling light headed with emotions he thought – maybe it did touch her soul.

Slowly she turned and looked at her friends. Blinking rapidly, she gazed at Seb and fell out of trance. Worry took over her, he was not recovering fast. Moving her hands to her neck, she pulled a pendant, a cone shaped container with rich tribal markings adoring it. Opening the lid with her right hand, she took a long breath and raise her right hand, tight with controlled power she willed the water to move out in ropes. Water flowed out of pendant in light ropes until its last drop, without her touching it.Dropping the pendant, she moved her hands with fluent slick movements; like the dance of fish. Water rippled and formed a small ball, hovering on her palm.

All the time he watched her from tree. His breath froze, eye’s wide with wonder, he could have sworn his heart skipped few beats. His mouth opened with a silent grasp, long after that he murmured

‘’ she is a water bender.’’

the words he uttered in shock perplexed him more. A water fucking bender. No doubt her strides were powerful, light, soft but unwavering.

She lightly approached seb, bending down she raised the cuffs of her dress, let the water hover close to her and using both her hands opened the shirt of seb; he was his friend, had been with her for years, even when she was away from home, he didn’t let her go alone. Been there for her at every step like a silent savior that he was.

Removing his old bandage, she looked at the wound, a long swords swing had delivered a death blow. A straight cut from his shoulder blades to the end of his pubic bone. Bending the water with the slick movement of her hand she let the water touch his wound. He painfully grunted, his facial expressions morphing into pain, slightly opening his eyes in narrowed slits he saw her with hazy eyes work on his wounds. And before he knew it sleep engulfed him. She had been doing that, when she could she would try to heal him. But she was no healer. he knew it. And knew that she was pushing herself too much. Healing required more focus, more expense of power. And he knew she couldn’t do it, when she had been so close of burn out a week ago. Such deep well of her power replenished, close to the very base of a magic holder’s power. So, he tried to tell her to stop, to go without him, he cannot risk their lives, but couldn’t say even a word. The blanket of unconsciousness was too heavy on him.

When she finished her too pathetic effort to heal, she stood up. Now she wished she had a few more days there to learn how to heal. He was in pain; she could feel it. She wished that atleast she could have learned the basics of healing. Her power was useless, useless with the right way to use it.

Days passed with her trying from time to time heal him. Days silently travelling with only stopping to eat. An air of grief surrounded that group. Ayusha watched them for days. Always hiding in one spot o other to keep an eye on them. Atleast that helped him to drive his agitation away.

Continue Reading Next Chapter

About Us

Inkitt is the world’s first reader-powered publisher, providing a platform to discover hidden talents and turn them into globally successful authors. Write captivating stories, read enchanting novels, and we’ll publish the books our readers love most on our sister app, GALATEA and other formats.