An upward breeze engulfed Jade’s hood, caressing her mask sitting on her high cheekbones. The scent of her prey reached her nostrils. She blinked once and steadied her breathing.

Unhurriedly, Jade took her aim. Her clockwork wings drew backward as she propelled her arm forward, releasing a second javelin.

She used arrows to destabilize her prey, but preferred javelins to make the kill. They were her weapon of choice, her distinctive mark. It took an entirely different set of skills to master the deadly art of the javelin, but when her throw aimed true, Jade was glad for the long and harrowing years spent training as a Master Assassin. Not that she ever had a choice in becoming a member of the infamous mercenary association. But she did have a choice in becoming the best assassin she could be.

The javelin gracefully soared high in the sky before it curved in a perfect arc, directing its poisonous end toward the target’s heart. The black amaranthine toxin would slow the beating muscle, giving her time to finish her mission.

Killing a dragon shifter took lots of preparation and nerves of steel. Only a few assassins possessed what was needed to successfully complete such a mission, but killing the Solarian High Lord required a commitment to the cause only Jade had.

The Assassin Academy, otherwise known simply as the Academy, had fixed her broken body when she first arrived at the steps of the white palace on Celestia, sold by her family for their next meal. The Academy infused her with nanites that had knitted her back together and prolonged her life expectancy beyond the mortal scope. She could still be killed, but her aging had been slowed considerably, and she could live in the prime of her youth as long as shifters did.

A shattering roar broke the eerie silence. The prey’s hand snapped forward, grabbing the javelin a mere moment before the black, sharp point would perforate clothes and flesh, injecting the black amaranthine into the man’s chest.

Jade took a calming breath, centering her thoughts on the task ahead.

Plans change. Assassins adapt.

Once again, she was the killer built to slaughter the Academy’s targets. One steady hand reached for her belt, fingers grabbing the head of the third javelin, her last one. Deftly, with the ease of a lifetime of practice, her thumb and index finger snapped the leather hoop and freed her weapon. She commanded her mechanical wings to open wide to stabilize her and prepared to execute the dragon shifter.

Her body tensed in anticipation. A smile tugged at her lips, a remnant of her humanity she couldn’t suppress. Her shoulder rotated as her arm moved up, muscles flexing and extending. Like a missile, her weapon of choice shone in the morning light, catching Coral’s pink rays. The moment the javelin left her hold, Jade experienced a feeling akin to physical release.

Her lips parted as she heard the familiar hissing of the heavy spear cut through the air. Next, her prey would gasp and fall from his mount. Jade would finish him with her dagger before he reached the ground a mile below. She would give him the respectful death a dragon shifter deserved, still flying.

Her eyes locked with the man’s. Her ritual. Before every killing, she would honor her victims by acknowledging them as her peers.

His gaze didn’t betray any fear. Atop his draglet, he sat with an elegant poise, back straight and long, blond locks streaming away from his face. A handsome face free from pain and that kept an uncanny composure as if he weren’t injured. Although by now, the first javelin had rooted itself deeply inside his shoulder, and the poison must have already spread through his system.

Eyes the color of the clearest sky stared into hers before, at the last moment, he moved out of the spear’s trajectory.

A powerful emotion possessed Jade as she watched her last javelin miss its target and spiral down, useless. Jade recognized the feeling as rage, but deep inside, an inexplicable sense of relief pulsed, trying to emerge. She pushed the conflicting thoughts away, her body already in pursuit.

Plans change. Assassins adapt.

She pulsed her wings forward, catching a thermal. The wind propelled her closer to her prey.

Both man and draglet hovered as a single entity, unmoving, as if waiting for her.