The night was thick with the scent of blood and fire, the distant screams of the dying blending with the echoes of clashing steel.
Lucia ran.
Her bare feet pounded against the damp stone floor of the hidden tunnels beneath the castle, each desperate step carrying her and the two children she clutched away from the slaughter.
Behind her, the bandits tore through the helpless, their blades hacking through men, women, and children alike. She could hear their laughter, their taunts, the sound of metal tearing through flesh—sounds that would haunt her for the rest of her life.
She didn't stop. She couldn't.
Axel—the boy she had taken in as her own—was slipping from her grasp, his body too heavy for her weakened arm.
Lucia clenched her teeth, her muscles screaming as she hoisted him back up, gripping his tiny frame tighter. He barely reacted. His blue eyes were wide, unblinking, filled with raw terror. His breath came in quick, sharp bursts, but he made no sound.
Ymir, her true-born daughter, was pressed tightly against her chest, her face buried in Lucia's shoulder. The little girl was sobbing, her small fingers digging into her mother's back, as if afraid that letting go would mean death.
Lucia refused to let them die.
Ahead, two knights—the last of those who had chosen to protect the fleeing villagers—burst through the wooden exit gate leading out to the open fields behind the castle. They didn't hesitate.
They smashed the doors open with their shoulders, splinters flying into the air.
A flood of terrified villagers—the last survivors—spilled into the moonlit plains, running for their lives.
The knights took position—one on each side of the exit, pressing their backs to the cold stone walls, swords ready.
Then the first bandits charged through.
Steel flashed.
The knights struck with deadly precision, cutting down the first three men who emerged from the tunnel. Their swords tore through flesh, and the bandits crumpled, blood spraying across the dirt.
One more stepped forward, stunned at the sight of his fallen comrades. Before he could react, a blade pierced his throat, silencing his scream.
For a moment, there was hope.
Then the whistle of arrows filled the air.
From the woods beyond the field, ten bandits on horseback waited in the shadows. Bows drawn.
The knights barely had time to react.
The first volley struck. Two arrows hit the knights in the chest.
They gasped, falling to their knees as blood poured from their wounds. Their swords clattered onto the grass.
The mounted bandits didn't stop.
With cold, merciless efficiency, they spurred their horses forward, galloping toward the fleeing villagers.
The night was filled with screams as arrows rained down.
One by one, the villagers fell.
Bodies collapsed into the dirt, unmoving. Mothers shielded their children with their bodies, only to be pierced through the back. The elderly, too slow to escape, dropped in pools of their own blood.
Lucia didn't look back.
She ran faster.
Her legs burned, her lungs felt like they would burst, but she didn't stop.
There were fewer people behind her now. The sounds of the dying were fading, replaced by the pounding of hooves—the bandits were coming.
Her only hope was to reach the desert shore.
The fishing boats. If they could make it there—if they could find a way onto the water—they might survive.
But two hours of running stood between them and freedom.
Lucia could already feel her strength failing.
She had spent her entire life working on a farm, building endurance through years of labor, but she was still just one woman.
And she had already pushed herself beyond her limits.
A sharp, burning pain suddenly tore through her left shoulder.
An arrow.
The impact nearly threw her off balance.
Axel slipped—his frail body sliding from her grasp.
Lucia let out a cry, her right arm tightening around Ymir while her left fought to hold onto Axel.
Her fingers, slick with blood, nearly failed her.
For a single, terrifying second, she thought she would lose him.
Then—
She gritted her teeth and pulled him back, wrapping her arm tightly around his tiny frame.
Axel didn't react. He didn't even blink. His body was stiff, his breath shallow. His mind was trapped in something far worse than this moment.
PTSD.
Lucia held him closer, shielding him with her own body as she ran.
Ymir's sobs were muffled against her neck, her tiny hands trembling as they clutched at Lucia's torn dress.
Lucia didn't stop.
She couldn't stop.
The bandits weren't far behind.
She could hear them—their horses galloping, their laughs echoing in the night, their bows being drawn once more.
The desert shore was still so far away.
But she would get there.
She had to.
Even if she had to run until her body collapsed, until she bled out into the sand, she would get them to the boats.
Because if she failed—
If she stopped running now—
They would die.