Lord Draven took a step forward, his gaze fixed on Javier. The soldiers behind him stood firm, hands gripping their weapons, ready for any sudden orders. The air was tense, heavy with the unspoken threat of violence.
"Heartless?" Lord Draven scoffed. "If I didn't hear wrong, you were the one who murdered an innocent child."
Javier remained still, his face unreadable. The soldiers of Runevale shifted slightly, their armor clanking softly as they exchanged uneasy glances.
Lord Draven turned to me briefly, his crimson eyes locking onto mine. "Don't let him get under your skin," he said, his tone calm, almost indifferent.
Then, shifting his focus back to Javier, he tilted his head slightly and smirked. "Did the woman you killed do that to you?" He gestured toward Javier's wrist.
It was only then that I noticed the burn—his right wrist was completely scorched, the skin raw and discolored. My eyes flickered to the soldiers behind him. A few of them looked roughed up, their armor dented, their postures tense. Did Irene do this?
I knew Šërēĺįťh was powerful—my mother had once used it to defeat a First Shadow—but for Irene to wound someone like Javier? Someone nearly as strong as Michael? That didn't seem possible.
Javier clenched his jaw but didn't answer. Instead, he kept his cold gaze on Lord Draven.
"Just give us the girl," he said, his voice flat.
Lord Draven didn't acknowledge his demand. He turned back to me with an unreadable expression.
"Majesty," he said, his voice quieter this time. "Let me ask you again—do you want to come with me?"
Tears had long dried on my cheeks, but the weight in my chest remained.
What was I supposed to do?
If I rejected his offer, there was no doubt that Javier would kill me.
I swallowed hard, my hands trembling at my sides. My body was drained, but my mind was made up.
"Yes… please, take me with you," I said at last, my voice steady despite the storm inside me.
Javier didn't move. He stood there, his gaze fixed on his burnt wrist as if lost in thought.
Back then, as Javier and his squad moved deeper into the forest, they caught the smell of food in the air. It was warm and inviting, unusual in the quiet, empty woods.
"Who could be living all the way out here?" one soldier muttered, glancing around warily.
"This is a total waste of time," another grumbled. "There's no way the princess came this far into the forest."
"Quiet down," Javier snapped, his sharp gaze cutting through the soldier's complaint. "Lady Nyxelene ordered a thorough search. Are you questioning the queen's judgment?"
The soldier stiffened, the color draining from his face. No one in their right mind would dare challenge the queen—not if they valued their life. She was someone who exiled her own daughter and demanded her death.
"N-No, Captain, that's not what I meant. I just—"
"Captain, look!" another soldier interrupted, pointing toward a small pile of discarded belongings.
Among the debris, half-buried in dirt and leaves, lay a tattered red dress.
Javier's eyes darkened. The princess's dress.
"She must be close," he muttered, his voice firm. "Stay alert."
The squad moved forward, their boots crunching softly against the forest floor. With every step, the scent of food grew stronger, leading them toward a small, hidden house nestled between the trees. Someone was inside.
Looking through the window, Irene spotted figures moving through the trees. It was strange—no one ever came this deep into the forest. Her fingers tightened on the windowsill as she watched them approach. Then, her gaze landed on the emblem stitched onto one soldier's cloak.
"Runevale?" she muttered.
Majesty's voice echoed in her mind. "If she said it, she meant it."
Irene's breath hitched. Majesty had to be on her way back. If the soldiers found her here…
'I have to do something. And fast.'
She spun around. "Enoch, go lie on the bed and don't come out," she said, keeping her voice steady.
Enoch, who had been stirring the pot over the fire, looked up. He didn't question her. He never did. Not when she pulled him away from his friends, not when she led him into the depths of the forest, not when their lives turned into constant hiding. Without a word, he wiped his hands, stepped away from the fire, and slipped into the bedroom. The door shut with a quiet click.
Irene exhaled sharply and turned back to the window. The soldiers were closer now, their armor catching slivers of light between the leaves. There was no time to think.
She raised her hands, fingers curling slightly as she gathered her breath. The words spilled from her lips, smooth and deliberate:
"Šälënthir örënthir šaër vëlth,
Űlë thäë šaër dräšhën lyë—
Möräth Šëlvën: Välëthir Řäënthir!"
(Meaning: "Wandering stars shall lose their way, Night and time shall twist and stray— Primal Genesis: Forgotten path!")
The air around her rippled. A faint shimmer, barely visible, spread outward like unseen threads.
She didn't know exactly where Majesty was, but she knew what the spell would do. The stars above would shift ever so slightly, guiding Majesty down a longer, winding path. She would lose track of time, delaying her return.
Irene's hands lowered, her chest rising and falling as she steadied herself.
Now, she just had to hope it worked.
Irene took a deep breath and stepped forward. She had to settle this before things got out of hand.
"Look, someone's coming out," a soldier muttered, and all heads turned toward the sound of the door creaking open.
Irene stepped into the open, her long chestnut hair catching the dim light. There was an air of quiet confidence about her, but she masked it behind a soft, unreadable expression.
"Wow… she's beautiful," one soldier whispered in awe.
"Do you think she's a goddess sent down to be my woman?" another one mused.
"You're married. With three kids. You idiot," a third soldier scoffed.
"Quiet," Javier's sharp command silenced them all as he stepped forward, his eyes locked on Irene. He didn't waste time.
"Where is she?" His tone was firm, unwavering.
Irene tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into a gentle smile. "I'm sorry, where is who? I don't know who you're looking for, but I'm the only one who lives here."
The married soldier let out a dreamy sigh. "She's so beautiful. Totally my type."
"Please. Just stop," another soldier groaned, though even he couldn't deny it—she truly was stunning.
Javier's patience was thin. His gaze flicked to the red dress one of his men held up, a trophy of their discovery. "Don't play innocent with me. I know she's here somewhere."
Irene's heart clenched. I should have burned that dress. I made a mistake. I didn't think they'd actually find this place.
"I already told you," she said calmly, "I don't know what you're talking about."
Javier smirked. "Fine. Then you won't mind if we search the house." He gestured for his men to move.
Panic surged through Irene's veins. This is bad. If they go inside, they'll find my son. I can't let them go inside.
She didn't hesitate.
With her voice steady, she whispered an incantation:
"Thylë rëvën, vélthën rävën,
Drüzha zhënën väshë—
Möräth Šëlvën: Zhënënthirin Välën!"
(Meaning;
"Legs shall tremble, spines shall break,
The world itself shall bear its weight—
Primal Genesis: Gravity's Wrath!")
A sudden weight filled the air. The ground beneath them trembled. Legs buckled. Armor groaned under invisible pressure. Soldiers gasped as their knees hit the dirt, struggling against an unseen force.
Irene stood tall, watching them crumble before her.
They will not enter my home.