The sun now sat low in the western sky, a dying ember smoldering on the horizon. Opposite it, the moon emerged—ghostly, pale, like a forgotten deity clawing its presence into the fabric of reality. As the last breath of sunlight faded into an ashen sky, the orange blaze vanished, and the moon bathed the world in silver.
The wind drifted through the trees, indifferent to the shifting light. Leaves rustled and danced across the ground—green, brown, and brittle gold.
I sat quietly by the fire, nibbling on roast fish. Brianna had made it with practiced ease, now crouched by the flames roasting another one she caught with her staff in a nearby lake. Petra sat beside me, silent, warm. It was she who had discovered the small creek where Brianna fished.
Earlier that morning, Brianna had advised we wait.
"We'll move at night," she said calmly, holding Petra back as she prepared to dash off. "It's simpler to slip in under cover of darkness."
And so we waited.
By sunset, Prince Timothy and Regina had arrived at the edge of the forest. With them came Zoë and three boys, all clad in armor. Zoë had insisted on joining the mission, declaring she'd be of help. She carried a gladius, her stance sharp and assured. The Prince wielded a claymore—broad, royal, fitting.
The boys, all sons of Dukes, followed closely behind.
Caleb, a brawny youth with steady eyes, bore a glaive.
Anthony, quick-tempered and bold, carried a battle axe.
Michael, who wielded a bastard sword, had a look of mischief in his grin.
Watson, tall and lean, had glasses perched on his nose and an air of cold intellect. A longsword hung at his side.
They were known as The Four Dukes, noble-born and bonded through battle and privilege. They were often seen beside the Prince, friendly yet always a step behind him.
Regina, silent as ever, held a dao—curved, sharp, her eyes flickering with unreadable concern.
The group had arrived in the forest brimming with excitement—everyone except Regina, whose lips were pressed into a thin line, her gaze flickering with unease.
They should have departed at dawn. Regina had suggested as much. But Prince Timothy refused, choosing to wait for his companions. In that delay, Zoë had learned of the plan and requested to join. She brought along another girl—a beauty with long black hair and dreamy, hazy eyes.
Her name was Quin, a daughter of a Marquis.
Now they were all here, clustered in the growing dusk, laughter and strategy blending with the whispering wind. The hunt would begin soon.
And I couldn't help but feel it:
The forest wasn't just watching us—it was listening.