---
Bound but not broken, Serenya sat beside the campfire in silence. Her wrists were tied with coarse vine-rope, her hair matted from the struggle, her regal bearing barely hidden behind the dirt and fatigue etched on her face. The flickering fire cast long shadows across the faces of her captors, and every crackle of wood seemed to carry their suspicion.
Asteria paced slowly, arms crossed. Mira leaned against a tree, arms folded, while Valron and Tarn hovered nearby. Cain sat apart, sharpening his curved blade on a stone, but his gaze never truly left Serenya.
"I've already told you," Serenya said for the fifth time, "I am Serenya of Eldros. The second daughter of the late King Alvaryn. My mother, Queen Ayelara, rules in his stead. You dare bind royalty—"
"Enough," Mira cut in. "If you were royalty, why are you wandering through no-man's land with no army?"
"Because I am seeking the Prime," Serenya snapped.
"That's convenient," Valron muttered. "We're all chasing myths now?"
Tarn crouched beside her. "You fought well. I'll give you that. But not like a royal. Royals don't bleed on dirt. Royals send others to bleed."
Serenya raised her chin. "My guard will come for me."
Mira scoffed. "Then he's late."
Cain said nothing. His face was unreadable.
---
They traveled for days.
The terrain grew more unfamiliar, harsher. Mira led them through a narrow pass veiled in mist—a place she remembered from her youth, but which locals feared. Legends spoke of traders who never returned, swallowed by the forest.
"It's the only path I know that could lead us back to Nytherion," she said.
So they pressed forward, dragging Serenya along. Her once-pristine traveling cloak was now torn and dirt-stained. Her boots were worn down, and even her proud posture had begun to falter.
By the fourth day, her steps were slow and uneven. When she stumbled for the third time that afternoon, Valron had had enough.
"She's slowing us down."
"She'll get herself killed out here," Tarn added.
"She's not used to this," Asteria said with a sigh.
"She's a princess, not a soldier," Mira snapped. "She shouldn't even be here."
They argued for minutes, their voices rising.
Finally, Tarn barked, "You're the one who wanted to bring her. Then carry her."
Asteria glared at him, but said nothing. He walked over to Serenya, dismounted, and helped her onto his horse without a word. She looked at him with burning eyes.
"I don't need your pity."
"It's not pity," he muttered, mounting behind her. "It's practicality. Try not to fall asleep."
---
They made camp near the edge of a clearing. The forest hummed with strange energy. Distant hoots, rustling leaves, and the occasional deep growl in the shadows.
Asteria approached Serenya with a small wooden plate.
"Here," he said. "Roasted root and fish. Mira says it's edible. I'm still alive, so she might be right."
Serenya turned her head away. "A princess does not eat half-cooked peasant scraps."
"Suit yourself."
He stood and turned—but paused.
"I've met nobles before," he said without looking back. "Most of them wouldn't have lasted a day on this journey. You've lasted five."
There was silence.
She slowly turned to him. "You think I'm strong?"
"I think you're stubborn," he said. "Sometimes, that's the same thing."
He smiled faintly. For the first time, so did she.
---
That night, the air shifted.
Cain was first to sense it. "Wake up," he whispered, already on his feet.
From the trees, movement stirred—low growls, quick steps. Then they emerged.
Hybrid beasts—mutations with the heads of horned panthers and bodies like sinewy wolves, eyes glowing amber. Their movements were unnatural, coordinated.
The group scrambled.
Valron slashed one across the face, only to be thrown into a tree.
Mira blasted another with a torrent of water, but two more charged through the mist.
Tarn tackled one to the ground with brute force.
Asteria drew his blade and sprinted toward Serenya, who was cornered by two beasts. One lunged—
But Asteria was faster.
He spun between them, slicing cleanly through one's neck. Blood sprayed.
The other leapt—
He grabbed Serenya, rolled, and fired a blast of concentrated wind from his blade's swing, sending the creature hurtling into a tree.
They landed hard. Serenya's breath caught in her throat.
"You're insane," she gasped.
"And you're heavy," he muttered, pulling her to her feet.
She stared into his eyes.
Something flickered there.
Not words. Not gratitude.
But something.
Moments later, the remaining beasts fled, wounded or slain.
---
The next day, tensions rose.
Serenya began issuing commands again—demanding they head west, that she knew a better path.
"Enough," Mira snapped. "You're not in a palace anymore."
"Then I will find it myself."
Asteria blocked her. "Not until we know who you really are."
Before she could retort—
A blur of flame.
Darius.
He struck without warning, using surprise as his weapon. Tarn was knocked off his feet. Mira barely dodged. Darius grabbed her arm, blade to her throat.
"Where is she?" he growled.
The others drew their weapons. Cain stood ready.
Serenya stepped forward. "It's me. Stand down."
Darius blinked. "My lady?"
Her bindings were already gone. She rubbed her wrists.
"They didn't hurt me. Well, not much."
Darius's eyes narrowed. He stepped back.
Cain, stunned, stepped forward. "She... She really is royalty?"
Darius nodded. "She is Princess Serenya of Eldros. Second daughter of Queen Ayelara."
The camp went silent.
Mira exhaled sharply. "Well. That changes things."
Asteria didn't say anything. He just looked at Serenya.
She didn't look away.
---
Far to the east, in the grand halls of the capital palace, Queen Ayelara stood at her high balcony, watching the crimson banners flutter across the city walls. Behind her, a royal messenger knelt.
"Your Majesty," he said, breathless, "the princess... she's gone. Her guards are dead. The carriage destroyed. Only a single trail remains—headed west."
The Queen's face was carved of stone. "Send word to the Crimson Fang. I want her found."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
She turned toward the throne where her husband once sat. Her fingers curled into a fist.
"Foolish girl," she whispered. "You've started a fire you cannot put out."