Threads of Fate

Esara Khollis: Year 1014

The Khollis name was spoken with reverence across the kingdom. For centuries, they had been the kingdom's most esteemed healers, their magic mending broken bones, healing fatal wounds, and curing even the rarest of diseases. Esara Khollis, the eldest daughter of the Khollis family, was no exception. Her mastery of healing magic was unparalleled, her reputation spreading from the grand halls of the palace to the humble homes of the common folk.

Esara moved through the royal infirmary with an air of calm authority, her hands glowing faintly as she worked her magic on an injured soldier. His wounds, deep gashes from a recent skirmish, knit together beneath her touch, the torn flesh mending without so much as a scar. The soldier, dazed and in pain, let out a relieved sigh as Esara's magic soothed the agony from his body.

"You're going to be just fine," Esara said softly, her voice as soothing as her magic. "Rest for a few days and stay out of trouble."

The soldier tried to speak, but Esara simply smiled and waved him off. She had no time for thanks. Her duties as the royal physician never ended, and she moved on to the next patient, her magic ready to heal whatever ailed them.

The Khollis family's legacy of service to the crown stretched back for generations, and Esara had embraced her role without question. She had been trained from a young age, learning not only the intricacies of healing magic but also the discipline and selflessness that came with being a member of the Khollis family. To heal was to serve, and to serve was to protect the kingdom.

But there was another side to the Khollis family's legacy, one that was not spoken of in public. It was a secret known only to the Khollis bloodline and those sworn to serve the crown. Behind the noble facade of healers, the Khollis family carried a darker, more dangerous duty.

That night, as the moon hung low over the city, Esara returned to her family's estate. The halls of the manor were grand, filled with artifacts from generations past, each one a testament to the Khollis family's unwavering dedication to the kingdom. Esara's steps were silent as she made her way to the study, where her father, Valen Khollis, waited.

Valen sat at his desk, his gaze fixed on a scroll laid out before him. His eyes, sharp and calculating, flicked up as Esara entered. The air between them was heavy with the weight of unspoken words. Esara had always respected her father, had always believed in the work they did, but in recent months, a shadow had begun to grow in her heart—a quiet unease that she couldn't shake.

"You did well today," Valen said, his voice low and steady. "The kingdom thrives because of healers like you."

Esara didn't respond immediately. She knew what was coming. This was how it always began.

"But we are not just healers, Esara," Valen continued, his gaze hardening. "You know that."

Esara closed her eyes for a moment, steadying herself. She had known this truth her entire life, but each time she was reminded of it, it felt like a fresh wound. The Khollis family were more than just healers—they were the kingdom's secret assassins. For generations, they had protected the throne not only by mending the wounded but by eliminating threats before they could destabilize the kingdom.

"You have a new mission," Valen said, pushing a small, rolled parchment toward her. "Riven Solaryn. He's been branded a traitor. You know what must be done."

Esara unrolled the parchment, revealing the details of the mission. Riven Solaryn was a noble, accused of conspiring with rebel forces to undermine the crown. The order was clear: eliminate him before he could incite further unrest.

Her heart tightened. She had taken lives before—always in service of the greater good, or so she had told herself. Each time she carried out her dark duties, she pushed down the guilt, the unease that gnawed at her. But with each mission, that guilt grew harder to ignore.