Mist clung low to the forest floor, veiling the moss and roots in a pale shroud. The air was thick with damp and the sour tang of marshland ahead. Elira's boots sank into soft earth as she followed Kaelen westward, every step heavier than the last.
Kaelen's face was hard with concentration. His eyes scanned the ground, the branches, the air itself. More than once he froze, listening, before urging her forward again. His wound slowed him, though he masked it with steady determination.
Elira could feel the shift in the forest. Something unseen pressed around them, like the tightening of a fist. The trees no longer felt like guardians—they were sentinels, silent and watching, their shadows concealing unknown hunters.
"Kaelen," she whispered. "We're not alone."
He didn't answer, but his hand rested on the hilt of his dagger, his body angled as though ready to strike at any moment.
---
**Elsewhere, in the trees**
Ravik crouched with a cruel smile, his men spread in a half-circle around the marsh's edge. The mist was their ally. From the north, snares had been set. From the east, false tracks led into dead ends.
The west—where Kaelen had chosen—was no accident. Ravik had left that path deliberately open.
"They'll think it's their choice," he murmured to his lieutenant. "But choice is the sweetest trap."
The lieutenant, a scarred man with a crossbow, nodded. "You want them alive?"
Ravik's grin deepened. "Alive enough. The prince must breathe when we deliver him. The girl? She must burn for our employer to believe. But if she resists…" He shrugged. "A little pain never lessens value."
---
**Back to Elira and Kaelen**
They reached the first stretch of marshland, where reeds swayed in shallow pools and the ground gave beneath their weight. Kaelen led carefully, testing the path with his boot before committing. His breath grew heavier, though he kept his posture unbending.
Elira's gaze kept flicking to him. His wound was worse than he admitted. She could see the tension in his jaw, the faint sheen of sweat on his brow. But he pressed on, unwilling to yield.
"Kaelen," she said, stopping. "You can't push like this."
He turned, frustration flashing in his eyes. "If we stop, they'll be on us before you can breathe. Do you want to fall into their hands?"
"I want you alive," she answered sharply. The words surprised even her, echoing louder than intended in the mist.
For a moment, silence hung between them. His expression softened, though the urgency did not fade.
"We move," he said more gently. "Together. But no more arguing."
Elira nodded, though unease gnawed at her stomach. The marsh seemed too quiet. Even the birds had fled.
---
**POV: Corin**
The boy trudged through the rain-slicked fields, clutching a lantern that sputtered against the wind. His father was still missing. Corin's fear grew with each step, but so did his determination.
Near the tree line, he spotted hoofprints churned deep into the mud. Too many for a lone rider. His chest tightened.
He almost turned back. But something inside him—something stubborn—urged him forward. He had seen the strangers pass. He had seen the flames at the forest's edge. If his father was caught in the same storm, Corin could not abandon him.
Lantern raised, he vanished into the trees.
---
**POV: A mercenary**
Harl, one of Ravik's youngest men, shifted uneasily in the mist. His crossbow felt heavier than usual, his throat tight. He had joined the band for coin, not slaughter.
But Ravik demanded silence, demanded blood if needed.
When Harl saw movement—a flash of pale cloak through reeds—his fingers tightened on the trigger. He thought of his sister back in Greyfen, the wages she depended on. If he failed, Ravik would make sure none of them saw another sunrise.
And so, heart pounding, Harl prepared to take aim.
---
**Back to the marsh**
Kaelen halted suddenly, his hand raised. "Down," he whispered.
Elira obeyed, crouching behind reeds. She saw them then—shadows in the mist, too many to be hunters or wanderers. Shapes moving in coordination, forming a half-circle.
Her chest tightened. "It's a trap."
Kaelen's eyes narrowed. "Of course it is."
He scanned quickly, calculating. Retreat was impossible—the path behind was already closing. To the east and north, likely blocked. West was the marsh, slow and treacherous.
But Kaelen's gaze fixed on a narrow ridge of stone jutting from the muck, a rise that overlooked the reeds. If they could reach it, they would have higher ground.
"Run," he whispered. "Now."
They bolted, water splashing beneath their feet. Shouts erupted from the mist, mercenaries surging forward. Arrows whistled past, one grazing Kaelen's cloak.
Elira's heart hammered as she followed him, the ridge looming ahead. But the ground gave suddenly beneath her, sucking her boot into mud. She cried out, stumbling.
Kaelen turned instantly, hauling her free with a strength born of desperation. He shoved her toward the ridge. "Go!"
She didn't argue. Together they scrambled up the slick stone as mercenaries closed in, their torches flaring against the mist.
---
**On the ridge**
Kaelen drew his blade, stance firm despite the wound. Elira pressed close behind him, her palms trembling. She could feel the fire stirring again, the dangerous warmth coiling through her veins.
Ravik emerged from the mist, torchlight glinting on his scarred face. His men fanned out, encircling the ridge.
"Well, well," Ravik called. His voice was smooth, almost mocking. "The lost prince, cornered at last. And the girl who spits fire."
Kaelen's jaw tightened. "You'll have to bleed for either of us."
Ravik chuckled. "Oh, I expect you will do that part for me."
He raised his hand, and the mercenaries surged forward.
---
**The clash**
Steel rang in the mist as Kaelen met the first attacker, blade flashing. His movements were precise, efficient—each strike aimed to wound, not waste. But he was outnumbered.
Elira pressed her back against the stone, panic surging. The fire inside her grew hotter, demanding release. She remembered the mercenary she had burned before—the fear in his eyes—and hesitated.
Another mercenary lunged for her. Without thinking, she thrust out her hands.
Flames erupted, a burst of heat that lit the mist in orange glow. The man screamed, stumbling back as his cloak caught fire.
Gasps rippled through the others. Ravik's grin widened.
"There it is," he said softly. "Worth every coin."
Elira staggered, breath ragged. The fire had left her trembling, the energy inside still roiling. She wanted to stop, to hide—but more men pressed forward.
Kaelen fought fiercely, his blade cutting through two more, but his wound slowed him. He stumbled, nearly falling. Elira rushed to his side, fire sparking at her fingertips.
Together they stood on the ridge, defiant against the circle of steel and flame.
And somewhere in the shadows, unseen, a boy with a lantern watched wide-eyed—the boy Corin, drawn into the storm.