The streets of the capital were in chaos.
Lysandra and Jael sprinted through the twisting alleyways, their breaths ragged, their bodies running on pure adrenaline. Behind them, the remnants of Aldric's golden blast still crackled in the air, leaving the palace gates in ruins.
Civilians were staggering from their homes, eyes wide with confusion and fear. They had woken from one nightmare, only to step into another—a new king had risen, and he was far worse than the one before.
Jael hadn't spoken since they fled.
Lysandra stole a glance at him as they ducked into a side street. His face was ashen, his hands trembling at his sides.
"We need to—" Lysandra started, but Jael suddenly lurched forward, bracing himself against the stone wall of a nearby building.
She grabbed his arm. "Jael?"
He didn't answer. His breathing was shallow, and his fingers dug into the cracks between the bricks.
"We have to go," she urged. "Aldric—"
Jael's head snapped up. His eyes burned with something dark, something raw. "My father is a monster." His voice was hoarse, like it hurt to say the words out loud.
Lysandra swallowed. "I know."
He let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "No. You don't. Because I've spent my entire life believing I had to stop my brother. That he was the tyrant, that he was the reason for everything. But the truth—" His fingers curled into fists. "The truth is, I was just playing into my father's hands."
His voice cracked, and for a moment, he looked completely lost.
Lysandra tightened her grip on his wrist. "Then we stop him."
Jael exhaled shakily.
Aldric was stronger than the heir, stronger than any ruler before him. How were they supposed to fight a king who had spent decades gathering power?
A City Turned Against Them
A commotion broke out in the main square.
Lysandra and Jael pressed themselves into the shadows as a group of soldiers stormed past, their golden-trimmed armor gleaming under the torchlight. The sigil on their chests—the royal crest—was no longer etched with the heir's symbol.
It had changed.
The new crest belonged to Aldric.
Jael's jaw clenched. "He's already taking control."
A soldier barked orders. "Find the traitors. The king wants them alive."
Lysandra's stomach twisted.
They weren't fugitives anymore. They were enemies of the crown.
She pulled Jael deeper into the alley. "We need to leave the city."
Jael hesitated, then nodded. "There's a way out. The eastern gate. But we won't make it far if the city guards are under his control."
Lysandra bit her lip. The entire kingdom was under Aldric's rule now. And unlike the heir, Aldric didn't need mist and illusions to maintain power—he had an entire army, a nation that still saw him as the rightful ruler.
And he had no intention of letting them escape.
A Desperate Escape
Lysandra grabbed Jael's hand and pulled him into a run.
The eastern gate wasn't far, but the streets were crawling with soldiers. Their only advantage was the chaos—people were still too confused, too dazed from the heir's death to fully understand what was happening.
But it wouldn't last long.
"Over there." Jael pointed to a narrow passage between two merchant stalls. It was barely wide enough for them to squeeze through, but it led to the market district—the fastest way to the gate.
Lysandra ducked through the passage first, Jael following close behind.
Then—a voice rang out.
"There! The girl and the prince!"
Lysandra's breath hitched.
Torches flared behind them. Boots thundered against the cobblestone.
Jael cursed. "Run!"
They bolted.
Soldiers flooded into the marketplace, knocking over fruit carts and trampling through wooden stalls. People screamed as the chaos spread, and in the confusion, Lysandra and Jael weaved through the crowd, desperate to lose their pursuers.
The eastern gate loomed ahead.
But the moment they got closer, a line of soldiers blocked the exit.
Jael skidded to a stop. "We're trapped."
Lysandra's mind raced. There had to be another way out—somewhere, anywhere.
Then she spotted it.
A cargo cart. Parked near the gate, covered in heavy cloth, already being led out of the city.
An escape.
She grabbed Jael's wrist. "Trust me."
Without another word, she pulled him toward the cart. The driver—a merchant completely unaware of the chaos—was speaking to a guard at the gate. The moment the soldiers were distracted, Lysandra shoved Jael into the back and climbed in after him.
The cart rumbled forward.
The soldiers didn't notice.
And just like that—they slipped out of the city.
The Hunt Begins
Lysandra didn't dare move until the city walls disappeared behind them.
Only then did she exhale. Only then did she let herself believe they had escaped.
Jael sat beside her, shoulders hunched, his expression unreadable.
"We're alive," Lysandra murmured.
Jael's fingers curled against his knee. "For now."
Because even though they had escaped the city…
Aldric wasn't the type to let his prey go.
The hunt had only just begun.