The tree swallowed her.
Branches whipped past her shoulders as she ran, boots slipping on wet bark, the weight of the children in her arms far heavier than their small bodies should allow. Her mana shield pulsed in time with her heartbeat—tight, bright, fragile.
Rain hammered the canopy above, turning the world into a blur of motion and sound.
But she didn't dare stop.
Not yet.
She kept running until the screams of battle faded behind her—until Aldric's booming impacts became distant tremors instead of thunder cracking against her bones.
The children whimpered softly.
Elenya clung to her clothes with tiny fingers. Lucifer, still sleeping, twitched with every distant echo from the courtyard.
Lyriana knelt, shifting them carefully, checking their barriers, her hands trembling despite herself.
They're safe. For now.
But—
Aldric.
Her brother was still back there, surrounded by knights who would gladly cut him down even if he gave them no openings. She closed her eyes for half a heartbeat, forcing her breath to steady.
He'll survive.
He has to.
He's—stronger than any of those knights, than—
Her thought faltered when the ground beneath her boots rumbled again. A shockwave rolled through the forest floor, rattling leaves from branches and sending birds shrieking into the air.
Her breath hitched.
That wasn't a normal strike.
That was Aldric being pushed.
She swallowed.
She didn't want to imagine what could force him to go that far.
Lyriana tightened her grip around the children, holding them close.
> "You're okay…"
The words came out in a whisper meant for them—but maybe for herself, too.
Elenya's eyes slowly opened. She blinked up at her.
Big red eyes—soft, staring.
Lyriana's heart cracked at the sight.
> I promised the queen I'd protect you.
And I'm gonna make good on that. Now go back to sleep, young miss Elenya.
But where was she supposed to go?
Elenya still stared, wide-eyed, up at her.
Lyriana suddenly froze, landing gently as her gaze drifted deeper into the trees, where the rain-dim light struggled to reach the ground. Her breath fogged in the cold, tiny puffs disappearing as quickly as they formed.
The Holy Empire's knights were moving faster.
Lyriana felt it before she heard it—
the subtle shift of mana behind the trees,
like a ripple chasing her through the undergrowth.
Her pulse spiked.
She rose slowly, adjusting Elenya in one arm and cradling Lucifer closer to her chest. Her mana tightened around them, a reddish shimmer layering into a soft shell that bent the rain before it struck their small forms.
Lyriana moved.
Silent. Controlled. Every step measured against the rhythm of distant steel.
She tightened her mana around the children, suppressing even the faint glow of it, and darted toward the nearest tree. Its trunk twisted upward like a dark pillar, branches reaching out in gnarled, clawlike arcs. She leapt—light as a whisper—and caught the first branch. The next. Then another.
Within seconds she vanished into the canopy.
Leaves closed around her, damp and cool, dripping with rain. Her breath quieted. Her presence dimmed. She crouched on a thick branch high above the ground, one arm wrapped around Elenya, the other around Lucifer, who nestled into her side with a soft, unconscious murmur.
Below…
The forest shifted.
Not Aldric's pursuers.
Not the hunters he'd intercepted.
A different unit entirely.
Lyriana's body went rigid as she peered down between the leaves.
Dozens of knights emerged from the darkness in orderly formation—shields raised, swords drawn, armor gleaming with holy sigils that pulsed faint blue under the rainfall. Their formation was tight, disciplined. These weren't the knights from the courtyard.
Reinforcements, Lyriana thought.
Of course.
She stayed still, balanced with perfect poise on a thick branch. Her mana wrapped the children in a thin shield—not glowing, barely present—suppressed until it trembled from how tightly she held it.
They weren't chasing her.
They were heading straight toward the Castle.
A tall figure stepped out from the cluster of shields—towering, heavy armor etched with radiant gold. His helmet split the rain into twin rivulets, the visor carved like an emotionless face. A massive shield rested on one arm, a longsword on the other.
Thane.
He stopped. The others froze behind him.
His helmet turned—slowly—scanning the treeline.
Lyriana held her breath.
She pressed the children close, burying them in her clothes, hiding their pale skin and telltale mana signatures beneath layers of mana.
Thane's gauntlet flexed around the hilt of his sword. Then—
He spoke, voice muffled metal and thunder.
> "Spread out. I sensed something."
Knights fanned out, boots sinking silently into wet leaves.
They moved with synchronized precision.
Lyriana monitored their spacing, numbers, angles. Thirty? Maybe thirty-four. A structured sweep pattern. Annoying, but manageable to avoid.
Thane stepped closer to her tree.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Lyriana adjusted her stance, shifting weight silently, ready to move upward or sideways if needed. She kept her breathing measured, steady, refusing even the smallest twitch that could rustle the leaves.
Thane stopped beneath her branch.
Directly below.
Rain pooled on the top of his helmet, running down in cold streaks. His sword hummed faintly, detecting the remnants of Aldric's mana in the distance.
He lifted his head.
Lyriana didn't flinch.
The children pressed against her like warm, fragile shadows.
For several heartbeats—the forest was nothing but rain and silence and tension stretched to the point of snapping.
Finally—
Thane lowered his chin, exhaling—a low, frustrated growl.
> "It's fading. Whatever it was… it's already long gone."
A hand signal.
The knights regrouped behind him.
Thane took one last sweeping glance through the trees, visor gleaming with reflected stormlight.
Then he turned.
He signaled his troops.
They regrouped.
They turned away.
Knights began marching again—away from her tree.
Lyriana let the smallest breath slip past her lips—relief, yes, but calm, restrained relief.
She shifted slightly, ready to move the moment they were far enough—
A sound split the canopy.
Soft.
Fragile.
Impossible to mistake.
A baby's cry.
Elenya's tiny voice echoed through the branches like a bell through a cathedral.
Lyriana's blood froze.
Her eyes shot downward—terror widening them.
Elenya's tiny arms pressed against her chest, pushing herself back and staring up at her, eyes huge, red, and innocent… finally free from the warm, smothering prison she had been trapped in during the escape sprint.
(Basically the poor baby was being suffocated, pressed by her watermelons the entire time.)
Below, Thane halted mid-step.
The entire formation stopped.
Helmets turned.
Swords lifted.