The safe house loomed ahead, tucked just beyond the thickened treeline. Its rough mossy stone walls glowed faintly from the lanterns inside, a small sanctuary amid the chaos of the night.
Sylas stumbled through the doorway, each step heavy with exhaustion. Sweat and grime streaked his face, and his clothes were torn in several places from the skirmish with the ogre and the hooded man. He leaned briefly against the doorframe, catching his breath.
Kaelen, standing alert near the hearth, immediately noticed his state. Her eyes sharpened at the cuts along his arms and the way he limped slightly as he moved toward the center of the room. "Lord Falcrest! What happened?" she asked, moving to steady him.
Sylas shook his head, trying to maintain composure. "Corvan… he didn't make it," he said quietly, voice low but steady. "He fell protecting me."
Kaelen's gaze lingered on him, studying his exhaustion and the weight of grief and responsibility in his posture. "I see," she said, voice controlled. "We'll have to carry on. There's no time to dwell on the past tonight."
Midadol stepped closer, her expression tense, sharp, but not tearful. She studied Sylas as he leaned on Kaelen for support, noting the injuries and the fatigue that weighed him down. "You look worse than I imagined," she said softly, concern creeping into her voice. "Are you…are you going to be all right?"
Sylas forced a faint nod, though his legs shook under him. "I will be," he said. "But the fight isn't over, and neither are the consequences of tonight. We survived, but…" He let the words trail off, knowing the full weight of what had been lost.
Kaelen, her arms folded, gave him a sharp look. "Rest for a moment, Lord Falcrest. You'll need your strength soon enough."
Sylas's jaw tightened as he struggled to catch his breath. He noticed Kaelen referring to him as she had done before.
"Kaelen… why are you calling me Lord Falcrest?" His voice was low, tense, a mixture of exhaustion and suspicion.
Kaelen's eyes dropped to the floor. For a heartbeat, she didn't meet his gaze, her expression guarded, heavy with something she couldn't yet speak aloud.
"Sylas…" she began slowly, her voice quiet, measured. "Your father… and the royal family… King Cidolfus, Queen Benedikta… they've all fallen. The rest of the kingdom… as well."
Sylas's chest tightened, and his knees threatened to buckle. For a moment, the weight of her words pressed down on him more than any blow from the ogre had. His hand clenched around Ealgian, still sheathed at his side, the hilt biting into his palm.
"I…" he began, his voice strained, "I… they're… gone?"
Kaelen's gaze lifted briefly, meeting his eyes with steady resolve despite the grief behind them. She said nothing more, allowing the silence to speak, the title lingering in the air. Sylas's mind raced, realization dawning. Being called Lord Falcrest… it meant he was now in command. He was the Lord of the Falcrest family now. The Thorns answered him.
He exhaled shakily, the enormity of it sinking in. The world he knew the life he had been born into was gone in a single night. He stared at the floor, then slowly raised his eyes to meet Kaelen's once more, determination hardening behind the shock.
Sylas's gaze flicked toward Midadol, and he noticed her hands pressed tightly together, her lips trembling as she fought to hold back tears. Despite everything, she stood upright, trying to remain composed.
He exhaled slowly and turned to Kaelen. "Give us a moment," he said, voice firmer than he felt.
Kaelen hesitated, then gave a curt nod. "As you wish, Lord Falcrest." She stepped toward the doorway, pausing just long enough to glance back at him before disappearing into the shadows outside.
Left alone with Midadol, Sylas crouched slightly to meet her eyes, his own exhaustion and the weight of command pressing down on him. "Midadol… are you all right?"
She swallowed, finally allowing a single tear to slide down her cheek. "I… I'm holding on," she whispered, voice tight. "But… it's hard."
Sylas reached out, hesitating only for a heartbeat before offering a reassuring hand. "I know," he said quietly. "I won't leave your side. Not now, not ever. Whatever happens, we face it together."
Midadol blinked at him, emotions warring in her expression, relief, grief, and something unspoken. "Sylas…" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
He squeezed her hand gently, eyes firm. "You're not alone. Not anymore."
The quiet between them was heavy but grounding, a moment of fragile reprieve amidst the chaos that had consumed their world.
Sylas's gaze softened, still holding hers. "Midadol… what would you like to do now? Where should we go from here?"
She swallowed, glancing down at her hands before meeting his eyes again. "I… I don't know," she admitted, voice trembling. "Everything's changed so fast… I just…" She shook her head, trying to compose herself. "I just want to be somewhere safe."
Sylas nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as he considered their options. "The safe house is secure for now, but we can't stay hidden forever. We'll need a plan." He hesitated, then added quietly, "Whatever you choose, I'll follow. You won't face this alone."
Midadol gave a faint, weary smile, a flicker of the teasing warmth she could never quite suppress even in the darkest moments. "I suppose… for now, I trust you to decide."
Sylas's grip on her hand tightened ever so slightly, a silent promise. "Then we rest tonight. Tomorrow, we move forward together."
The two of them lingered in that quiet, the weight of loss pressing down, but also the fragile thread of hope that neither would let go of the other.
Before Sylas could say another word, the door creaked open and Kaelen stepped inside, her movements quiet but deliberate. "I… overheard some of your conversation," she said, her tone careful, measured. "I have a suggestion for a place to lay low for a while."
Sylas straightened slightly, exhaustion still heavy on his shoulders. "Go on," he said, voice low but firm.
Kaelen inclined her head. "Farmlands near my native village. It's farther out from the border, isolated enough that we could remain unseen. The villagers are loyal and will keep their mouths shut. There's space for you, Midadol, and… for those of us who can guard you in secret."
Midadol glanced at Sylas, then back at Kaelen. "It… sounds safe," she said quietly. "Away from everything we've lost."
Sylas's gaze shifted between the two of them, weighing the plan. "Far enough from danger, yet close enough for us to regroup and plan," he murmured. Then, his jaw tightened. "Very well. We'll move there at first light. Kaelen, you'll lead the way?"
Kaelen nodded, her expression firm but betraying a hint of relief. "I'll make sure we reach it safely. Lord Falcrest."
Sylas stiffened slightly at the title again but did not respond. Instead, he allowed himself a brief moment to breathe, the first in what felt like days. "Then we prepare. There's little time to waste."
Midadol let out a soft sigh, leaning slightly on Sylas's arm, a silent acknowledgment of the trust she placed in him. Sylas's hand moved to rest lightly over hers, grounding them both as the shadows of the night pressed in around the safe house.
Sylas glanced at Midadol, noticing the strain in her posture and the shadows under her eyes. "You should rest," he said softly, his voice low but firm. "It'll be a long journey ahead, and you need your strength."
Midadol's hands tightened around his sleeve before he could move. "You… you promised," she said, her voice trembling just enough to betray her fear. "You promised you wouldn't leave me alone. Please… stay here. With me."
Sylas froze for a heartbeat, caught between duty and the quiet plea in her eyes. The weight of everything pressing down on them, the loss, the danger, the uncertainty made her words cut sharper than any blade.
"I…" he started, voice rough, then shook his head slightly. "I won't leave you," he finally said, crouching back down to meet her gaze. "Not now. Not ever. We face this together, Midadol. Always."
She let out a shaky breath and leaned slightly closer, the tension in her shoulders easing just a fraction. Sylas's hand remained close to hers, a silent vow that amidst the chaos of the world outside, she would not be abandoned.
The room was still for a while, only the soft flicker of candlelight painting shadows across the walls. Sylas sat close to Midadol, keeping silent watch as she drifted into a shallow, uneasy sleep.
A sharp tap at the door roused them both. Sylas stirred first, hand instinctively going to Ealgian, still sheathed by his side.
"Lord Falcrest… Princess," Kaelen's voice came from the doorway, calm but firm. "It is time to wake. The journey will not wait, and we must move before daybreak."
Midadol blinked, rubbing her eyes. "Already? I… I thought…"
Sylas straightened, offering her a brief reassuring glance. "We'll be ready. Come on."
Kaelen stepped inside, her eyes scanning the room briefly before resting back on them. "We have little time. I will guide you through the safest path to the farmlands. There, you can rest more safely and plan your next moves."
Sylas nodded, helping Midadol to her feet. "Gather what you can," he said quietly. "We move swiftly, but carefully. Stay close."
Midadol adjusted her cloak, still half-drowsy, and followed his lead. Sylas's hand hovered near hers, a steady reminder of his presence and his promise not to leave her side again.
The first light of dawn filtered through the trees as Sylas, Midadol, and Kaelen slipped silently along the forest path. The night's shadows still clung to the undergrowth, giving the world a muted, fragile quiet. Every snap of a twig underfoot made Sylas tense, hand lingering near Ealgian's hilt, ready for any surprise.
Midadol walked close to him, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "How much farther?" she asked softly.
Kaelen, walking slightly ahead, cast a glance back. "Not much longer. The farmlands of my village lie just beyond this ridge. From there, you'll be safe enough for now, at least until we can decide on our next steps."
Hours passed in careful silence, the trio moving through winding paths and rolling fields. When the sight of small thatched-roof cottages emerged in the distance, relief flickered across Midadol's face. The village was quiet, the farmers still tending to early morning chores.
Kaelen slowed as they approached a modest but sturdy home near the edge of the village. She knocked lightly, then opened the door before an answer could come. "Mother! Father! I've brought… guests."
Moments later, two figures appeared Kaelen's parents, cautious at first, but quickly shifting to warmth when they saw her. "Kaelen! You're safe!" her mother exclaimed, rushing forward.
Sylas stepped forward, bowing slightly in respect. "We are in your debt, ma'am. My name is Sylas Falcrest, and this is Princess Midadol Lumeris."
Kaelen's father, tall and broad-shouldered, gave a quick nod, the gravity of the situation clear in his eyes. "Come inside. You must be weary from your journey. We will give you food, rest, and shelter."
Inside, the warmth of the hearth and the smell of freshly baked bread offered a stark contrast to the chaos they had left behind. Midadol sank onto a wooden bench, hands clasped tightly in her lap, while Sylas remained standing nearby, vigilant even in this safe haven.
Kaelen moved to pour water for them both, glancing at Sylas with a quiet acknowledgment. "We will remain hidden here for now," she said. "No one from the outside world must know of your presence, Lord Falcrest."
Sylas's gaze flicked toward her, tension in his jaw. "Lord Falcrest," he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. A reminder of the heavy burden now resting squarely on his shoulders.
Outside, the morning sun climbed higher, but inside Kaelen's family home, for the first time in days, the three found a momentary sense of peace.
The warmth of the hearth did little to quiet Midadol's racing thoughts. She watched Kaelen move through the room with a calm, practiced grace, handling tasks with a quiet efficiency that seemed almost otherworldly.
As Midadol slipped off her cloak, her eyes caught a detail she hadn't noticed before Kaelen's ears, elegantly pointed beneath her dark hair. Her heart skipped, a subtle realization forming in her mind.
Her gaze flicked inward, connecting the dots silently: Kaelen's parents must not have been fully Elfen unlike Kaelen, they had appeared entirely human, without the telltale pointed ears or other elfish traits. It explained how she had survived in a world that thought her kind nearly extinct, yet carried the unmistakable mark of her Elfen heritage herself.
"You… you're from the Elfen tribe," Midadol murmured softly, more to herself than to Kaelen.
Kaelen's expression softened, as if reading the unspoken thought. "Few of my people remain. We are scattered, hidden. But some endure, even when the world believes us gone."
Midadol's mind whirled with awe and a quiet respect. "I… I had no idea. You've survived despite everything."
Kaelen nodded, her voice calm yet resolute. "We endure when there is purpose. And now, our paths are tied to yours, Lord Falcrest. There is much you must learn, and much you will need to protect."
Sylas, standing nearby, felt the weight of her words press down heavier still. Even in this brief sanctuary, the threads of duty, survival, and destiny seemed to coil ever tighter around them.
Midadol's gaze lingered on Kaelen, a silent understanding forming within her a connection to a lost world and the recognition that appearances can hide the lineage and legacy that shape the future.
Kaelen's eyes softened as she settled near the hearth, the flickering firelight tracing the angles of her elfish features. "Long ago," she began, her voice low and deliberate, "the Elfen tribe was accused of a great crime one many of us did not commit. We were hunted, driven to near extinction."
Midadol leaned in, listening intently, the warmth of the room doing little to calm the chill that ran down her spine.
"It was the Falcrest family," Kaelen continued, "who gave those of us who survived a new home. A place to hide, to endure. They offered sanctuary, not as subjects, but as allies our purpose intertwined with theirs, to protect the Kingdom of Lumeris."
Midadol's eyes widened slightly. "Your people… they served with the Falcrests?"
Kaelen nodded. "Many did. Though not all were willing. Some saw our reliance on the Falcrest family as disgraceful and turned away, choosing exile or isolation. But the majority, the loyal, remained. We hid among the Falcrests, not just to survive, but to continue the legacy of guardianship."
A quiet pause fell over the room as Midadol absorbed the weight of the revelation.
Kaelen's gaze drifted to Sylas, her expression softening further. "And now… with your father gone, Lord Falcrest, I must ask you will my people still have a place at your side? Will we still be your shield in this time of need?"
Sylas met her eyes, the firelight catching the faint sheen of exhaustion on his face. For a moment, he said nothing, the weight of loss and the enormity of the question settling over him. Then, slowly, he nodded. "As long as I draw breath, the Elfens will stand with me… not as servants, but as kin."
A faint smile touched Kaelen's lips, though it carried the sadness of old wounds. "Then we will not waver."
The firelight danced across the walls, casting long shadows, as Midadol glanced between Sylas and Kaelen. In that moment, the hidden threads of history, loyalty, and purpose wove themselves tightly around them, binding the present to the past and the future to the choices they would make.
Later, when Kaelen excused herself to speak with her family, Midadol lingered by the fire with Sylas. The warmth flickered over her face, but her eyes stayed fixed on him.
"You know," she began quietly, "most people… they don't get that kind of loyalty. Not in this world. And if they do, it's rarely because of who they are it's because of the name they carry."
Sylas glanced at her, unsure if her words were meant to comfort or warn. "You think that's all this is? My name?"
Midadol shook her head. "No. Kaelen trusts you. Her people will follow because of what you've already done… and because of what you might still do. But that kind of loyalty…" She paused, her gaze softening. "It's a burden as much as it's a gift."
He let her words settle for a moment, staring into the flames. "Then I'll carry it. For them. For all of us."
A faint smile ghosted across her lips, but there was something unreadable behind it. "Just remember, Sylas Falcrest you're not only carrying your own fate anymore."
Before he could reply, the sound of Kaelen's boots approached from the hall, breaking the moment and drawing them both back to the present.
Kaelen returned a few moments later, her steps quieter than usual, though her voice carried a touch of relief. "I've spoken with my family. There's an empty cottage just beyond the far field, unused for years. It's not much, but it's dry, warm, and yours for as long as you need it."
Midadol smiled faintly. "That's… more than we could have hoped for. Thank you."
Kaelen gave a small nod, but lingered by the doorway, shifting her weight as if debating something. "There is… one small matter," she admitted, a hint of embarrassment coloring her tone. "The villagers here… they're older folk. Stubborn, proud, but… slower these days. The harvest has been difficult for them to finish before the cold sets in."
Sylas straightened slightly. "You're asking if I can help."
Kaelen gave a sheepish shrug. "I wouldn't, normally… but extra hands might make all the difference. I know you've been through much, Lord Falcrest, and I wouldn't blame you for refusing."
Sylas shook his head almost immediately. "If it helps the people here, I'll do it. As long as I don't have to stray too far from Midadol."
Midadol's brow arched in mild surprise at his quick agreement, but she didn't speak though her eyes lingered on him a heartbeat longer than usual.
Kaelen's shoulders eased, the tension breaking into a grateful smile. "Then I'll arrange it in the morning. It'll mean more to them than you realize."
The next morning came with the pale light of dawn stretching across the fields, the sky painted in soft strokes of orange and gold. The village stirred slowly, a few faint plumes of smoke already rising from chimneys as the older folk readied themselves for another long day of work.
Kaelen led the way, her cloak brushing the damp grass as she turned back to Sylas. "The fields are just ahead. Don't be surprised if they test you a little—these villagers don't hand out trust easily. But once they see your heart, they'll know."
Sylas adjusted the strap of Ealgian on his back, his breath still weighted with fatigue but his steps steady. "I didn't come here for their trust," he said simply. "I came to help. That's all."
Behind him, softer footsteps pattered in the grass.
"Midadol…" He stopped and turned, his brow furrowing. "I told you—you didn't need to come. You should rest."
But she only smiled faintly, her hair catching the morning light like strands of gold. "And let you run off without me? Not a chance. You think I'd sleep while you're out here doing all the work?"
He blinked, clearly at a loss. "This isn't… work for a princess."
Her expression sharpened, but only with playful defiance. "Then today I'm not a princess. I'm just Midadol. And you're stuck with me."
Kaelen chuckled softly, glancing between the two of them. "I suppose there's no arguing with her, Lord Falcrest. You'll find she's as stubborn as she is brave."
Sylas gave a resigned sigh, but there was the faintest pull of a smile at the corner of his lips. "Fine. Just don't overdo it."
The fields opened before them—a wide stretch of golden crops swaying gently in the breeze. A few villagers already bent to their tasks, their backs stooped with age and years of toil. When they saw Kaelen approaching with Sylas and Midadol, they paused, their expressions a mix of curiosity and caution.
Kaelen raised a hand in greeting. "These two are with me. They'll be lending their hands today."
The villagers exchanged glances, one older man muttering something under his breath, but no one objected. Instead, a basket was handed forward, placed firmly in Sylas's hands as if testing his resolve.
He tightened his grip, planting his feet solidly in the earth. "Show me where to start," he said.
The fields stretched wide under the pale morning light, rows of crops swaying gently as the harvest began. Sylas worked alongside Kaelen and Midadol, his hands busy but his mind restless.
Something gnawed at him.
The village was quiet. Too quiet. He realized he hadn't heard the chatter of children since arriving. No laughter, no games played at the edge of the fields—only the muted voices of weary adults bent to their work. He tried to shake the unease, telling himself the children were simply kept indoors, but the silence pressed harder the longer he noticed it.
"Sir?"
The small voice drew his gaze downward. A girl stood before him, no older than eight, barefoot in the soil with dirt smudged across her cheeks. Her bundle of cut grain sagged in his arms, but his dark eyes were steady, far older than his years.
The girl's stare lingered on the hilt at Sylas's side. "That crest…" she murmured, almost to himself. Then her eyes lifted. "Are you… Falcrest?"
Sylas hesitated, caught off guard by the bluntness. "Yes," he admitted slowly. "I am Sylas Falcrest."
The girl nodded once, as if confirming something he already knew. Her next words fell like stones.
"Then you're too late."
Sylas stiffened. "Too late for what?"
The boy shifted his grip on the grain, knuckles white. "My friends, all the other kids. They're gone. All of them." His voice cracked slightly, but he forced it steady. "There's no one left but me and the grown ups."
A cold weight dropped in Sylas's chest. The silence, the heaviness in the villagers' eyes it all made sense now. He had noticed. He just hadn't wanted to believe it.
Around them, the adults kept working, but their hands moved slower, their grief unspoken. Not one denied the girl's words.
The child's gaze sharpened, cutting straight through him. "If you're Falcrest… why weren't you here?"
Sylas faltered, words catching in his throat.
Before he could answer, Kaelen stepped forward, her tone firm but not unkind. "Enough, child. Go back to your work."
The girl's eyes lingered on Sylas one last time before she turned and walked away, her small frame swallowed by the swaying stalks.
Sylas stood frozen, the echo of those words heavy in his chest.
Too late.
Sylas's grip tightened on the sickle in his hand, the girl's words gnawing at him. His eyes shifted toward Kaelen, sharp with a mix of disbelief and frustration.
"You knew," he said quietly, though the edge in his tone cut deep. "You knew the children were gone… Why didn't you ever send word to the knights? To my father? To me?"
Kaelen froze, her hands stilling over the sheaves she had been binding. Slowly, she straightened, brushing stray strands of hair from her face. Her expression was heavy, her voice low.
"I did, Lord Falcrest," she answered. "I sent word more than once. But no help ever came."
Sylas's jaw clenched. "That doesn't make sense. Why..?"
"Because this place," Kaelen interrupted, her voice carrying a hard edge, "isn't Lumeris. Not officially. The border line was drawn years ago, and though this village is bound by the blood of its people to the Falcrest name, to the crown it is nothing but forgotten farmland."
Her gaze flicked toward the distant cottages, her eyes dim with bitterness. "The kingdom didn't see us as theirs. And so they did nothing."
The truth struck harder than Sylas expected. His father, the king, the entire weight of the kingdom none had reached beyond the border. None had lifted a hand for Kaelen's people.
He looked at her, his chest tightening. "And yet… you still fight for us."
Kaelen's lips pressed into a thin line. "Because that is what we swore, no matter how the world turns its back."
Sylas lowered his gaze, the shame pressing heavy on his shoulders. The weight of his family's legacy had never felt so crushing.
Sylas's hands curled into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms. "That's wrong," he said, voice rising with a rare fire. "Border or not, you are people of this land. My father, the knights, the crown…." He cut himself off, shaking his head, his chest heaving. "We should have helped you. All of you. No one should have been left to suffer like this."
Kaelen lowered her eyes, her silence weighted with years of disappointment.
Sylas stepped closer, his voice rough but steady. "You swore loyalty to the crown, to my family, to Lumeris itself… and we failed you. That's not just neglect,it's betrayal." His throat tightened, but he forced the words out. "If I am truly Lord Falcrest now, then I swear, never again. I will not turn my back on you, or on your people. Not while I am still drawing breath."
The villagers nearby paused in their work, some looking on with guarded stares, others with faint flickers of something softer,hope, or maybe disbelief.
Kaelen finally met his gaze, and though her features remained composed, there was a glimmer in her eyes that betrayed her. A flicker of something breaking through the hardened shell she had carried for so long.
Sylas's voice rang with conviction as he finished, his breath coming hard as if each word had been carved from his chest.
Kaelen studied him in silence for a long moment, her sharp eyes searching his face as though to measure the truth in his vow. At last, she gave a slow nod, her tone softer than before.
"Spoken like a true lord," she said.
Sylas's jaw tightened. He wanted to protest, to insist he was no lord, only a protector. But as he looked around at the wary, tired faces of the villagers, at Kaelen's steady eyes, at Midadol standing close by with grief and determination etched across her features, he swallowed his words.
Instead, he turned to her. "Midadol…" His voice softened, but there was iron beneath it. "Before we can move forward, I need time. Time to look for the children of this village and bring them home. They deserve more than silence and abandonment."
Midadol blinked at him, her lips parting slightly. A flicker of surprise crossed her face, then slowly gave way to something steadier, fiercer. She nodded once. "Then I'll stand with you, Sylas. Whatever time it takes."
The villagers, who had been watching quietly from a distance, stirred with murmurs. Some hope. Some are doubtful. But Kaelen's gaze lingered on Sylas, her expression unreadable half relief, half fear of what lay ahead.
Midadol's vow hung between them, steady as a drawn blade. The quiet murmur of the villagers pressed in from the edges, their hope and doubt mixing in the air like smoke.
Then Kaelen stepped forward, her voice breaking the silence. "If you truly mean to search for the missing children, then we must speak with the village elder."
Sylas turned to her, brows lifting. "The elder?"
She nodded, her expression grave. "He has lived here longer than any of us. If anyone remembers the first time the children began to vanish… or has a clue where they were taken… it would be him."
Sylas drew in a breath, steadying himself. "Then let's not waste another moment. Take me to him."
Kaelen gave a short nod, though her eyes softened slightly as they flicked between Sylas and Midadol. "Very well. But be prepared, Lord Falcrest, his answers may not be the ones you want to hear."