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Chapter 2: Shadows in the Thicket
Noa's lungs burned. Every ragged breath tasted of damp earth and despair. The hunters' snarling voices clawed through the thick forest air, growing louder, closer—wild dogs bayed in the shadows, their keen noses tracking her like death itself.
Why me? Her mind echoed with a hollow, desperate question. Why had the cruel hand of fate singled her out? Was this punishment for a sin she never chose? The swollen weight beneath her ribs throbbed like a secret drumbeat, a fragile life tethered to her by blood and magic she barely understood.
The underbrush tore at her torn dress, biting at her skin, as branches lashed like skeletal fingers trying to drag her back. She stumbled, heart pounding, hands slick with sweat and mud as she scrambled to her feet. Each step was agony, her breath a ragged whisper lost among the ancient oaks. The silver light of the moon barely pierced the dense canopy, the forest a suffocating maze of shadows and broken hope.
They'll catch me. The thought was as sharp as a blade. They'll take the child away. Or worse. She swallowed her terror, forcing her legs forward, driven by raw survival instinct.
A rustle to her right made her spin—nothing but the black silence. Her tears blended with rain that began to fall, cold and relentless, slicking leaves and mud beneath her feet. The hunters shouted again, rough voices thick with hatred and urgency.
"Cursed… devil's spawn…" The words haunted her like ghosts from the village square. "Xant blood… must be purged."
Noa's hands clenched around her belly, a fierce protectiveness flaring. "Not like this," she whispered to the night. "Not my child. I will protect you."
---
Far from the forest's wrath, the royal carriage wound slowly through the dim woods. Velvet curtains were drawn back just enough to reveal Princess Ruth seated with a quiet grace. Her pale blue eyes, sharp and calculating, reflected the flickering torchlight, cool beneath the long lashes. Golden strands of hair, arranged in an intricate braid entwined with tiny sapphire beads, framed her face and caught the occasional glint of moonlight filtering through the trees. Her gown, a deep sapphire silk that whispered softly with every subtle movement, was elegant but practical for travel — the long sleeves embroidered with silver thread hinted at her royal lineage even in the wild.
Beside her, the maid Liora sat rigid, her eyes wide and darting nervously between the dark woods and the princess. Her pale cheeks were flushed with unease; her slender hands trembled slightly as she clutched the edge of her own plain cloak. She dared not speak, but the tightness around her lips betrayed her fear.
Up front, David guided the horses with firm hands, his jaw clenched and his eyes flickering with worry. He disliked the mission's secrecy, the tension thickening the air. Every snap of a twig or distant cry made him uneasy, and he whispered low prayers under his breath, hoping for safe passage.
Suddenly, the sound of heavy boots striking the dirt road stopped the carriage's progress. A squad of hunters emerged from the shadowed trees like ghosts, cloaks soaked with moisture and faces hidden beneath hoods. They moved with practiced silence, then bowed stiffly to the princess as they halted.
David tightened his grip on the reins and brought the horses to a halt. The rain made the road slick, but no one moved to shield the hunters from the chill.
One stepped forward, voice low and gravelly as it sliced through the night. "Your Highness, have you seen a woman, heavily with child? She's known to wander near these woods."
Ruth's gaze sharpened, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Why do you seek her?"
The hunter's eyes flicked briefly toward his comrades before he answered. "Rumors… talk of the cursed child of the Xant bloodline. Superstition, Your Highness. The woman carries a devil's spawn. The kingdom fears such curses."
Ruth's expression tightened, the flicker of anger in her eyes unmistakable. "And what will you do if you find her?"
"To ensure the kingdom's safety," the hunter replied without hesitation. "The royal family has given us the authority. No curse will threaten Solareth."
The hunters bowed once more, then melted silently back into the shadows of the forest.
David exhaled slowly, the tension lingering as he urged the horses forward.
---
The carriage rolled on, but the air was thick with unease.
Ruth's fingers tightened around the velvet armrest as her gaze flicked toward the trees, searching for any sign of the woman they sought. Her heart beat steady but fierce beneath the calm veneer. She had seen the fear in the hunters' eyes, the bitter weight of the kingdom's dread — but her own thoughts swirled with doubt and determination. This was no simple curse to be feared; it was a life.
Liora's soft breath hitched, and she glanced toward Ruth. "Your Highness… it's dangerous to linger near those woods. Please."
David's voice was gruff, laced with warning. "Bringing her into the carriage… it will bring misfortune."
Ruth's gaze hardened, her voice steady. "We cannot leave her to die out there. We must help."
---
Then, through the carriage window, Ruth caught a flicker—movement, pale and fleeting among the twisted branches.
"Stop!" she commanded, voice sharp.
David jerked the reins hard, the horses protesting as they came to a halt. Liora gasped, clutching the side of the carriage.
"Your Highness, it's dangerous. We should not—"
"I will not ignore it," Ruth said, stepping out into the chill night. Her boots sank slightly in the wet earth, her gown brushing the damp leaves as she moved forward. The silver of her hair caught the moonlight, a shining beacon in the darkness.
"Stay here," she instructed firmly.
The forest was alive with shadow and the scent of moss and rain. Ruth's heart hammered, but her step did not falter. Deep in the gloom, she found Noa—crouched, trembling, eyes wide with terror.
"No—please," Noa whispered, her voice shaking. She reached out a trembling hand toward Ruth, as if seeking a lifeline.
Ruth knelt beside her, her voice softening, almost gentle. "You are safe with me. I will help you."
Noa hesitated, then allowed herself to be pulled up, the fragile hope in her eyes shining through the fear.
---
Back at the carriage, Liora's face was pale, her fingers clutching the edge of the seat as she whispered, "This will bring misfortune. Mark my words, Your Highness."
David's gaze flicked to Ruth and Noa, his jaw tight. "We can't just leave her out there, but this… this is madness."
Ruth's eyes met his, fierce and unwavering. "David, where can we go? Somewhere safe."
He hesitated, then grimly said, "There's the old church not far from here—abandoned for years, but solid enough to shelter. I saw it on the road near the east ridge."
Liora gasped. "That place is cursed, they say. No one goes near it."
David shook his head. "Better than the woods. It's our only choice."
Ruth nodded. "Then we go there."
---
The carriage jolted along the rough, rain-slicked path. Inside, the air was thick with tension.
Noa sat quietly, her hands resting on her swollen belly, her breath uneven as waves of pain began to curl within her. Ruth watched her, a complex storm of worry, resolve, and something like hope flickering in her pale blue eyes.
Liora stared out the window, lips pressed tight, fear written in every line of her face.
David's hands gripped the reins tightly, the horses' hooves splashing through muddy puddles as they carried their precious and fragile burden toward the forgotten church.
---
The ancient church appeared ahead, a towering skeleton of cracked stone, its stained glass shattered and draped in tangled ivy. The heavy wooden door hung ajar, creaking softly in the chill wind.
Ruth signaled the driver to halt.
No one spoke as she stepped down from the carriage, her gown whispering against the damp earth.
She knocked firmly on the old door.
After a long moment, it creaked open further to reveal a gaunt figure cloaked in shadow.
"Who seeks shelter at this hour?" a voice rasped.
Ruth's voice was steady. "A woman in need. We ask sanctuary."
The figure studied them, eyes flickering with suspicion before nodding slowly. "Come inside. But beware—the church is no place for the faint of heart."
Liora and David followed, exchanging uneasy glances as the door groaned shut behind them.
Inside, the pews lay broken, the altar dusted in cobwebs, and the stained glass windows cast fractured colors on the cracked stone floor.
The caretaker led them to a small chamber at the back — a bare room with a straw pallet and a single flickering candle.
"You will stay here," the caretaker said. "No one comes here without reason. Rest now."
Ruth turned to Noa, her voice soft but commanding. "We will protect you."