The group ran, stumbling over thick roots and branches that intertwined like claws. The sky, already plunged into the deep blue of night, reflected the distant flames in reddish hues. The roar of the fire mingled with the hurried sound of footsteps behind them.
The wind carried scattered, chaotic shouts. Hunting orders.
Irelia increased her pace, pulling the princess firmly by the arm. "Faster!"
The young woman almost fell, but kept her balance. She didn't complain. Her cold eyes merely narrowed, fixed in the direction Sylphie pointed.
Amélia was right behind, carrying the nearly fainting mage. Sylphie's weight made her shoulders ache, but she wouldn't let go. Her fingers dug into her friend's shoulders, as if they could transmit strength through mere contact.
Sylphie, even semi-conscious, mumbled disjointed words, including "roots," "light," and "rivers." Sometimes, the golden glow still appeared in her eyes, flickering like dying embers.
