By the time they reached the outer villages, the sun had already begun to sink — washing the sky in shades of tangerine and gray. The cart creaked down a narrow road lined with weathered cottages and the scent of smoldering forges. Dravenhart's fortress rose in the distance — black stone against the dying light, its towers catching fire from the sunset.
It was quieter here than Zelene remembered.
Too quiet.
Even the laughter from the taverns sounded forced, as if the land itself held its breath.
Ray jumped down first, offering a hand to her, which she politely declined. Finn followed, nearly tripping again when his satchel caught on a nail. The farmer who had given them the ride nodded once before clicking his tongue to his horse and rolling off down the road.
Zelene drew her hood tighter. Her heart thrummed like a secret against her ribs.
They passed through the market square — what used to be a lively heart of trade now felt... hollow. Stalls half-empty, banners faded, conversations hushed the moment strangers passed by.
Finn whispered, "It's like the place forgot how to breathe."
Zelene's gaze drifted toward a notice board nailed to the wall of a closed smithy. Torn parchment, fluttering in the wind — old decrees, bounty posters, and… one worn page at the very center.
A royal seal.
A name.
Zelene Evandelle — missing. Presumed dead.
Her breath caught.
"Hey," Ray murmured, stepping closer. "You all right?"
But before she could answer, two villagers walked past them — voices low but words sharp enough to slice through the air.
"—They say the whole Evandelle line was cursed."
"Cursed? You mean slaughtered."
"The prince made sure of it," the other spat. "Only the general survived, and even he was stripped of his command. A shame… Alaric Evandelle was a good man."
Zelene froze. The sound of his name struck something deep — an ache buried under layers of duty and guilt.
"But what about the girl?" one villager continued. "The Lady Zelene?"
"Oh, haven't you heard?" the first replied, voice dipping conspiratorially. "She was kidnapped before the capital fell. Some say the crown prince himself ordered it. Tossed her off a cliff, they say — into the Ravenspire Gorge."
The other gasped. "Saints… that's brutal."
"Serves her right," the man muttered. "A cursed bloodline brings only ruin."
Zelene's hands curled beneath her cloak. She kept walking, face hidden, each step heavier than the last.
Thrown off a cliff.
Presumed dead.
Part of her wanted to scream — to tell them she was alive, that the truth was nothing like the lies that had spread. But she couldn't. Not here. Not when the walls had ears loyal to the crown.
Ray glanced at her, frowning at the tension in her jaw. "You're shaking," he murmured quietly.
"I'm fine," Zelene whispered, though her voice trembled. "We just… need to keep moving."
Finn's usual brightness dimmed as he looked around. "Hey—"
"Lynn," she corrected softly, eyes sharp beneath her hood. "Here, I'm Lynn."
He nodded, understanding instantly — though something in his gaze softened, as if he could feel the truth pressing against her ribs, begging to be let out.
They walked on in silence, the whispers of the crowd fading behind them like echoes of a grave she never asked for.