Volume 1 — Chapter 9: Flight in the Moonlight
The palace was no longer a sanctuary—it had become a cage. Every corridor, every shadow, seemed to hide watchers. Rumors of the Shadowmarked's powers and the princess's secret involvement had spread like wildfire. Tonight, the council's hunt would begin in earnest.
Lyriana met Aryn in the hidden alcove. Moonlight spilled through the cracked window, illuminating the tension etched on his face. "They'll come for us soon," he whispered. "Once the council knows I've been aided… we have little time."
"I'm ready," Lyriana said, her voice trembling but resolute. "We leave tonight. We can't fight the council in their own palace."
Aryn's hand brushed hers—a fleeting touch, but it carried a weight neither of them could ignore. "Then we run together," he said softly. "Through the secret tunnels, to the outer forests. If we survive the night, we can find the truth of the prophecy and who betrayed us."
Every step toward the secret passage was nerve-wracking. Guards patrolled nearby, their torches casting long, sinister shadows on the walls. The air smelled of cold stone and fear. Lyriana kept her hand tight on Aryn's, drawing courage from his presence.
The tunnels were narrow, twisting beneath the palace like veins of darkness. Ancient carvings glowed faintly as they passed, responding to Aryn's sigil. Every step forward brought them closer to freedom—but also closer to exposure.
Suddenly, a shadow moved ahead. A guard—or worse.
Aryn pressed Lyriana into a recess, pulling her behind him. His eyes blazed with urgency and something else—something she could feel deep in her chest. "Stay still. Don't make a sound."
The guard paused, sensing movement, then continued down the tunnel. Only when the footsteps faded did they allow themselves to breathe.
Lyriana's heart raced. "We can't stop," she whispered.
"No," Aryn said, gripping her hand. "Not until we're safe—and not until we know who among the council betrayed us."
For the first time, Lyriana realized that danger and desire were intertwined. Every heartbeat was a reminder that love in Arvandor was forbidden, but impossible to resist. And as the moonlight filtered into the tunnel's mouth, promising a path beyond the palace walls, she leaned into Aryn, feeling both fear and exhilaration.
They were fugitives now—not only from the council, but from fate itself. And in that flight, every stolen glance, every whispered word, made their forbidden love burn brighter than ever.
The night stretched before them, endless and uncertain. But Lyriana knew one truth: As long as we run together, we fight together—and nothing can break us.