The first thing she noticed was the sound.
Not silence - never silence - but a deep, breathing quiet, as though the forest inhaled and exhaled around her. Every tree groaned softly, every leaf trembled with a whisper just beyond words.
Elyon stumbled over a root and caught herself against a moss-covered trunk. The air was thick and cold, tasting faintly of iron and rain.
She turned back. Through the gap in the trees, she could still see the faint glow of the palace walls - distant now, shrinking with every breath.
Behind her, faintly, the clang of metal echoed. The enchanted knights were following.
Her pulse quickened. "Please," she whispered to no one, "don't let them find me."
The forest seemed to hear her.
A sudden gust swept through the trees, scattering leaves in a spiral. The branches creaked, shifting overhead - and then the path behind her vanished. The same roots that had tripped her moments ago now curled across the earth like serpents, closing the way.
Elyon froze.
The forest wasn't just ancient - it was alive.
A drop of rain struck her cheek, then another. The air smelled of wet bark and something electric, like stormlight.
She started forward again, forcing herself to keep moving. Her gown - once silken and gleaming - now clung to her legs, torn and streaked with mud. Each step sank into the soft earth with a sucking sound.
Branches reached low, brushing her hair, tugging at her sleeves. It felt like walking through the ribs of a giant.
A sound broke through the steady rainfall - metal on wood.
The knights.
Their armor clanked faintly through the dark, slow but relentless. The glow of their torches flared and dimmed between the trees.
Elyon's heart pounded. She ducked behind a thick oak and pressed her back to the bark, trying to still her breathing.
Their voices were wrong - hollow, monotone. "By order of Lord Petrid... the girl must not escape."
"By order of Lord Petrid... seize the witch."
Witch. The word scraped against her skin.
She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood.
The torchlight passed close - too close. Shadows wavered across her face. One of the knights turned his head, as if sniffing the air.
She prayed he wouldn't see.
But then, a branch above her creaked - a small sound, almost nothing - and the knight's head snapped toward her hiding place.
Elyon's breath hitched.
Before she could move, the forest did.
Roots erupted from the ground, coiling around the knights' legs. They thrashed, hacking at them with their blades, but the wood only tightened, dragging them down.
Their torches fell into the mud, hissing out one by one.
In the dim light, Elyon saw their faces - or what remained of them. Their eyes glowed faintly blue, but their mouths hung slack, breathless. Puppets indeed.
She stumbled backward, heart racing. "No... no, stop."
The roots obeyed. Slowly, they withdrew, sinking back into the soil.
The knights lay still.
The forest went silent again, as if watching her.
Elyon pressed a hand to her chest. "You... protected me?"
The only answer was the sigh of the wind through the leaves.
Lightning flashed somewhere above the canopy, white and brief. For an instant, she thought she saw faces in the bark - serene, unreadable.
Her knees gave way. She sank to the damp ground, shaking. Her magic still hummed under her skin like a second heartbeat.
"I don't understand," she whispered. "Why me? Why now?"
No answer came - only the steady rhythm of rain.
But as her eyes adjusted, she noticed a faint light ahead. Not torchlight - softer, golden, like the glow of dawn trapped between trees.
Something - or someone - was there.
With a trembling breath, Elyon pushed herself to her feet and began walking toward it.
Each step took her deeper into the unknown.