They walked.Or rather — stumbled.
The forest swallowed them whole.
The crackle of fire faded behind them, replaced by the whisper of leaves and the distant cry of crows. The moon hung low, pale and watchful through the tangle of branches. Every breath clouded in the cold, every step sunk into the damp earth.
Ray led the way, scanning the darkness ahead, his sword still in hand. Zelene followed, or tried to — her steps uneven, dragging. The hem of her gown was torn, soaked with blood and ash. Her hair clung to her face, matted and heavy.
Neither spoke. There was nothing to say.
The night stretched, endless.
At some point, the adrenaline that had kept her moving began to ebb. Her pace faltered. The world tilted. Her knees trembled with each step until—
She stopped.
Ray turned instantly, his eyes catching the faint moonlight. "Milady?"
But she didn't answer.Her breath came shallow, her gaze distant — fixed on nothing, like her mind had drifted somewhere beyond reach.
And then, her knees gave way.
She sank to the forest floor, the weight of the night finally crushing down on her. The leaves crumpled beneath her palms, damp and cold. For a heartbeat, she stayed that way — silent, still, trembling.
Ray swore under his breath and dropped to her side. "Zelene—hey—"
But when he saw her face, the words died.
There were no tears now. Only emptiness.
Her eyes stared at the ground, unfocused, glassy — as if the grief had hollowed her out from within. Her lips parted once, a faint sound — not even a sob, just air leaving a broken body.
Ray exhaled slowly. He'd seen death before, battle before. But this — this kind of stillness — it was worse.
He sheathed his sword and crouched beside her, glancing around. The forest was quiet, but danger could still be close. They needed to move.
He wanted to tell her that. To urge her to get up, to keep going.
But one look at her — the faint tremor in her hands, the blood on her dress, the thousand-yard stare — and the words dissolved in his throat.
So instead, he simply sat down beside her.
The cold bit through his coat, but he didn't care. He reached into his cloak, pulled out the spare mantle he carried, and draped it over her shoulders. Her body flinched faintly at the touch, but she didn't pull away.
The forest breathed around them — slow, solemn.Somewhere nearby, a stream murmured faintly through the dark, the water catching shards of moonlight.
Ray leaned forward, elbows on his knees, watching the path ahead — alert, guarded — but every few seconds, his eyes drifted back to her.
Zelene sat unmoving, her fingers clutching the fabric of her gown, the knuckles pale. Her shoulders rose and fell with each shallow breath, the mantle slipping down slightly as if even holding herself upright was too much effort.
He didn't know what to say. Maybe there wasn't anything to say.
So he stayed. Silent. Present.
The night air was sharp, smelling of smoke and frost.A single tear finally slid down Zelene's cheek — not a sob, not a cry. Just quiet surrender.
Ray looked away then, jaw tightening. He pretended not to notice.
Instead, he stared into the woods, the weight of what they'd lost settling heavy on his chest too.
He didn't rush her. Didn't speak.He simply waited — letting her break quietly, safely, where no one else could see.
The fire was gone.The manor was gone.Her world had burned to ash.
But here, in the dark, beneath the silent trees — she was still breathing.Barely.But breathing.
And for now, that was enough.