Vasquez and the rest of Princess Amaya's royal guard swept through the dense pinewood forest surrounding the Mount Latvana resort, their flashlights slicing through the misty darkness. Dried leaves crunched under their boots as they scoured the ground for footprints, broken branches—anything that might explain how the Princess of Lireya vanished without a trace. Their breath steamed in the frigid air, and the silence was broken only by the murmurs of frustration and urgency.
At the same time, deep within the command chamber of the chalet, Prince Raquim stood before a wide screen facing Albanya's elite security council which were pulled from their beds by a code red notification from their phones.
The emergency meeting had been called at the stroke of midnight, and the prince looked as if he hadn't slept in days. The fatigue showed in his posture, the dark circles under his eyes stark against his normally composed face.
