The night’s carnage had left the town in a heavy, oppressive silence. The once vibrant streets now lay cloaked in darkness, thickened by the stench of blood and smoke. Lady Elara’s stoic facade had crumbled, her face streaked with tears that glistened under the moonlight. Her voice strained and broke. “G-Gideon…”
Lady Isolde Ravenscar dismounted from her horse, clad in a form-fitting dark gown that flowed elegantly around her, radiating authority. Dual daggers were sheathed at her hips, ready for action at a moment’s notice. Her shoulder-length, messy purple hair framed her face, while gothic makeup accentuated her sharp features. The cold gleam of her earrings stood out against the emotional chaos around her. Her pitch-black eyes, cold and intense, fixed on Lady Elara.
“We must leave at once! Protect Lady Elara!”
The guards, previously paralyzed by shock, sprang into action. Their retreat was swift, their footsteps echoing in the empty streets. As the Royal Guard’s procession rode off into the distance, Isolde cast a final glance over her shoulder, smirking at Felix—followed by a faint blush—before they disappeared into the night.
Felix’s brow furrowed. “Why was she smirking at me?” He wondered but shook it off and rushed back inside the inn.
Inside, the room was thick with the scent of blood and sweat. Mela lay under the bed, her condition critical. Blood seeped through her bandages, staining the sheets a dark, ominous red.
Felix’s expression hardened. “Damn it.” His hands moved with urgency as he lifted Mela from under the bed. Her body was feverish and unresponsive. “Hang in there,” he whispered.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.
He carried her outside, his mind racing. The cool night air did little to ease the heat radiating from her body. Then, his gaze locked onto the stables down the street. Without hesitation, he moved.
At the stables, Felix worked fast, preparing a dark-coated horse. The animal snorted uneasily as he secured Mela onto its back, adjusting the straps with care. Mounting swiftly, he cast one last look at the inn—and the town beyond—before urging the horse forward into the night.
The town fell away as Felix drove the horse through the dense forest, each pounding hoofbeat echoing his race against time. The night air was bitter, but his focus was razor-sharp. After what felt like an eternity through tangled undergrowth, he arrived at a hidden cave, veiled behind gnarled branches and thick foliage.
Felix dismounted, leading the horse to the cave’s entrance. Carefully, he lifted Mela from the horse’s back and carried her inside. The cave’s chill seeped through his bones, but he pressed on.
Felix snapped twigs, gathered leaves, and created makeshift beds—a brief respite from the cold stone floor. As the fire crackled to life, it cast a flickering glow across the walls, offering fragile warmth against the encroaching night.
He retrieved bandages, alcohol, and a needle with stitches from his bag. The hours blurred as he worked through the night, mending Mela’s injuries. Exhaustion gnawed at him, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.
When he finished, Felix used his bag as a pillow for Mela and draped his robe over her, ensuring she stayed warm.
As dawn’s early light barely touched the cave’s entrance, he stretched his stiff limbs, then approached Mela, gently touching her forehead. “She’s doing well.”
The cave’s silence shattered with the distant barking of dogs, their cries growing louder with each passing second. Felix’s heart raced as his senses sharpened. His eyes darted between Mela and the cave’s entrance. The firelight flickered wildly. With a sharp intake of breath, Felix grabbed his gear, the growing threat of the approaching dogs piercing the cave’s solace.