Rasa stirred as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the cracks in the barn’s weathered planks. The warmth brushed her face, softly stirring her from sleep. She rolled over, expecting to see Alara’s familiar form nearby, but the bed of straw was empty. Panic surged in her chest as she sat up abruptly, eyes scanning the barn for any sign of her companion.
“Alara?” she called out, her voice tight with urgency. There was no reply.
Rasa’s gaze swept the barn, noting every shadow and corner, but the stillness offered no comfort. She leaped to her feet, her heart pounding as she scanned the room. Her eyes fell on the loft’s small window. It had been left ajar, the same window Alara had stared out of the night before.
Gripping the ladder’s rungs, Rasa ascended swiftly. Her head poked through the loft opening, and she peered outside. The town stretched out before her, but there was no sign of Alara among the empty streets. The usual early morning bustle was absent, an eerie silence hanging over Vernan.
Cursing under her breath, Rasa climbed down. She grabbed their belongings, slinging her pack over her shoulder. Each passing second tightened the knot of dread in her chest. Alara would not have wandered off with a reason.
Stepping outside the barn, Rasa noted the lifeless air of the town. The cobblestone streets, glistening faintly from the dew, were deserted. She passed shuttered windows and closed stalls, her footsteps the only sound breaking the quiet. As she moved deeper into the town, she caught sight of a lone figure.
A guard sat slumped against a stone wall near the base of the hill leading to the fortress. He carved lazily at a piece of wood, his expression bored, and his posture relaxed. Rasa approached cautiously, her boots crunching softly on the cobblestones.
The guard looked up as she drew near, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Can I help you?” he drawled, his tone suggesting otherwise.
“Where is everyone?” Rasa asked, trying to keep her voice even.
The guard snorted. “You don’t know? The coronation’s today. Everyone’s up at the fortress.”
A chill ran down Rasa’s spine. Of course, Alara would be curious. Foolish enough to wander into danger.
“How long ago did they lock the gates?” she pressed.
The guard shrugged, resuming his whittling. “Oh, they’re probably sealed shut by now. You’re too late if you want to get in.”
Rasa didn’t wait for him to finish. She sprinted up the hill, her boots pounding against the stone path. The guard’s voice called after her, warning of the futility, but she ignored him. Alara’s safety was all that mattered.
When she reached the fortress, Rasa ducked into the shadows, her breathing labored from the climb. Guards patrolled the battlements and clustered around the gates, their vigilance unwavering. She crouched low, pressing herself against the cool stone of a nearby wall as she tried to formulate a plan.
“No way through the gates,” she muttered, gaze darting across the fortress walls. Scaling them seemed equally impossible—the stone was slick with moss, and the guards’ watchful eyes left little room for error.
Then she spotted it. A small drainage opening near the base of the fortress wall. The iron bars were bent as if someone had already tampered with them. Her brow furrowed, suspicion stirring, but desperation overruled her caution. She hesitated, her mind racing with doubt. What if this was a trap? What if she failed to find Alara in time? But the image of her friend lost and alone inside the fortress outweighed the fear clawing at her chest. Gritting her teeth, she glanced around to ensure no one was watching and crept toward the opening, peering inside. The tunnel appeared to lead into the fortress, its dim interior shrouded in shadow.
She slid through the opening, the cold stone brushing against her skin as she crawled forward.
The tunnel was narrow, forcing her to twist uncomfortably to avoid jagged edges of rock that jutted out at odd angles. The faint sound of dripping water echoed through the confined space, masking any other noises that might warn her of danger ahead. Emerging into a dimly lit room, Rasa paused, her hand instinctively moving to the hilt of her blade. The air was damp and cold, the smell of mildew sharp in her nostrils. A guard lay slumped on the ground, unconscious or worse. Her breath caught, and a tense energy coursed as she rose.
Before she could assess her surroundings further, a blade pressed against her throat.
“Don’t move,” a voice growled in her ear.
Rasa stiffened, her grip tightening on her weapon. But the voice was familiar.
“Cale?” she whispered.
The blade eased, and the man stepped back. Cale’s face came into view, his expression one of surprise. “Rasa?”If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, lowering her blade but keeping it ready.
Before Cale could respond, Rufus and Marlen appeared from the shadows. Rufus’s eyes narrowed as he took her in. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said sharply. “Explain yourself.”
“I could ask you the same thing,” Rasa shot back, her tone equally biting.
Marlen raised a hand to forestall further argument. “Enough. We don’t have time for this. The charges are almost in place. We have less than twenty minutes to set them off,” he added, his tone sharp. “If we’re not out of here by then, we’re as good as dead.”
Rasa’s eyes widened. “Charges? You’re planning to blow up the fortress?”
“Twenty minutes isn’t much time,” Cale muttered, his expression uneasy. “What if someone innocent gets caught in the blast?”
“We’re at war,” Rufus snapped, his tone brooking no argument. “Do you think the enemy spares our innocents? Every moment we hesitate gives them an edge.”
Marlen hesitated, his hand resting on the hilt of his weapon. “Even so, this isn’t just about soldiers. There could still be civilians in there when it blows. Families, merchants, even children—and they might not make it out in time with the coronation still underway. Are we ready to take that risk?”
Rufus’s eyes narrowed. “Every decision in war comes with risks. But if we don’t do this, Emeresia loses more than a few civilians. We lose the future.”
“No,” Rasa said firmly, her voice rising. “You can’t. Alara’s here.”
Rufus froze, his brow furrowing. “What?”
“I’m sure of it,” she insisted. “She’s in the fortress.”
The group exchanged uneasy glances, tension thick in the air. “We should check the rafters,” Rufus suggested. “We might spot her in the crowd from there.”
The others nodded, and they moved cautiously toward the upper levels. Meanwhile, Alara stood on the fringes of the grand courtyard, her hood drawn low as she watched the coronation unfold. The stone underfoot was uneven, and she slightly stumbled as she moved, catching herself against a rough-hewn pillar. Her eyes darted upward, noticing a sentry on the battlements scanning the crowd below. The sensation of being watched clung to her like a heavy shroud, making every step more precarious. The crowd fixed their attention on the dais as Prince Dal’akar ascended with regal grace. Crimson banners fluttered in the wind, their gold edges gleaming in the sunlight.
Alara’s heart raced as her eyes flicked toward the hooded figure near the edge of the gathering. The figure turned her head slightly, and Alara’s breath caught. Recognition struck her like a bolt of lightning. Rynna.
Alara began edging through the crowd, her movements cautious. Each step felt like wading through quicksand, the weight of countless eyes pressing down on her. Her chest tightened, a storm of apprehension building as she struggled to process the overwhelming grandeur of the coronation. What had started as a curiosity now felt like a terrible mistake. And yet, seeing Rynna—so unexpected and out of place—stirred something else in her. Was it relief, knowing she wasn’t alone in this dangerous moment? Or was it fear, recognizing that Rynna’s presence might mean the danger was far worse than she realized? She clung to the hope that following Rynna might lead to safety, even as doubt gnawed at her resolve. A guard’s gaze locked onto her, his suspicion evident. Her breath hitched, and she forced a smile, slowing her steps to appear inconspicuous, her mind screaming for her to turn back, but her feet unwilling to retreat. As she neared Rynna, the other woman’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Alara?” Rynna hissed. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same,” Alara whispered back. “We need to leave. Now.”
Rynna hesitated but nodded, glancing toward a shadowed passage leading away from the courtyard. She began guiding Alara toward it, their movements careful and deliberate. Rynna’s mind raced as she navigated the crowd. Why did Alara have to show up here, of all places? Her job had been simple: keep watch and ensure the coronation proceeded without disruption. Now, everything was spiraling out of control. Frustration prickled at her—Alara’s presence jeopardized everything. Yet, as much as she wanted to resent her for the complication, an instinctive need to protect her old friend overpowered the irritation. Alara’s appearance was infuriating and concerning—she jeopardized everything, yet Rynna couldn’t ignore the protective instinct that flared within her. Her priority now was to get them both out alive, but the passage ahead would only buy them a few minutes if the guards caught on. "Stick close to me," Rynna whispered urgently. "There’s a service corridor up ahead—it’s not safe, but it’s better than staying here."
Above, Rasa, Rufus, Marlen, and Cale watched the scene unfold.
Rasa’s breath caught as she spotted Alara. Her gaze darted to a nearby guard, who had begun making his way toward the two women in the crowd. As Alara and Rynna started heading toward the exit, the first guard subtly signaled another with a sharp nod. The second guard responded by raising two fingers, a silent command that sent a third guard moving to block the far side of the passage. The second guard touched the hilt of his sword and began maneuvering through the crowd, his movements calculated and deliberate, eyes locked on the two women. The first guard mirrored his intent, shifting closer with measured steps. One guard tapped the pommel of his sword twice against the side of his leg, a signal that prompted a fourth guard to take up position near a side entrance. Their movements were deliberate, and their goal was clear: ensuring the coronation proceeded without disruption while isolating potential threats. It was not the women themselves they recognized, but any deviation from the expected order was enough to prompt action. Their coordination was precise, the net tightening around Alara and Rynna with every passing moment. Their wordless maneuvers exuded an unsettling discipline and control, their movements as calculated as the mechanisms of a clock.
“There she is,” Rasa whispered urgently. “We have to do something. The guards are going to stop her.”
Rufus’s eyes gleamed with determination. The thought was calculated, even ruthless—this was the perfect distraction. If the guards focused on Rasa, they wouldn’t notice Alara slipping away, and with luck, Rasa would keep them occupied long enough to ensure success. "Two birds, one stone," he muttered grimly, the words barely audible in the tense air. Before Rasa could ask what he meant, he shoved her forward. She plummeted from the rafters, her descent swift and chaotic. She crashed into a group of onlookers, sending them sprawling with startled cries. A woman in the crowd screamed, pulling her child close as Rasa collided with the onlookers. An older man stumbled back, clutching his cane as the confusion spread like wildfire through the gathering. Panicked whispers and frightened gasps filled the air, the tension of the coronation unraveling into disorder. Bodies collided, and limbs tangled as Rasa hit the ground, knocking over several people in her path. The civilians’ panicked reactions added to the confusion, their frightened whispers rising like a tide through the crowd. Rufus remained still in the shadows, his jaw tight as he murmured, "Perfect. She’ll draw their attention." The impact left Rasa dazed, but instinctively reaching for her blade as the crowd erupted in chaos around her. Rufus, Marlen, and Cale withdrew into the shadows, leaving Rasa to face the crowd alone.
Alara froze in place, her heart pounding as she watched the guards’ attention shift sharply to Rasa. Their shouts rose above the chaos, and guilt stabbed through her. She had dragged Rasa into this, and now her friend was in danger because of her reckless curiosity. Thoughts raced: shout for help, create a distraction, run? But every idea felt futile, her body refusing to obey as fear held her in its icy grip.