The moment Meisha slipped inside her quarters and closed the door behind her, the air shifted.
Kaydence was already standing.
Not because he heard her footsteps. Not because he sensed her presence. But because the moment Warren laid a hand on her, the stone beneath the estate had carried the vibrations straight to him — every tremor of her breath, every spike of her heartbeat, every ounce of fear she tried to swallow.
He knew.
He had known long before she reached the door.
Meisha leaned back against the wood, eyes closed, breath trembling. She didn't cry — she refused to — but the exhaustion clung to her like a second skin.
She pushed herself off the door and descended down the stairs.
Kaydence didn't move toward her at first. He simply watched, jaw tight, shoulders rigid, the air around him charged with a quiet, controlled fury.
"Meisha," he said softly.
Her eyes opened.
And the moment she saw him — really saw him — her body finally allowed itself to sag. Not in weakness, but in release. In recognition. In safety.
Kaydence took one step forward, then another, stopping just close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating from him.
"You're trembling," he murmured.
"I'm fine," she whispered, though her voice betrayed her.
Kaydence's eyes darkened — not with anger at her, but at what had been done to her. What had almost happened.
"I felt everything," he said quietly. "Every moment you were afraid."
Meisha's breath hitched. She looked down, ashamed of her own fear, ashamed of the way Warren had cornered her.
Kaydence shook his head slowly, reading her thoughts before she spoke to them.
"Do not carry shame for surviving a predator," he said. "The shame belongs to him."
Her throat tightened.
Kaydence lifted a hand — slowly, giving her space to refuse — and brushed a stray curl from her cheek. His touch was feather‑light, reverent, nothing like Warren's invasive grasp.
"You held your ground," he said. "You did not shatter."
Meisha swallowed hard. "I… I didn't want him to see me break."
"And you didn't," Kaydence said. "He saw nothing but your strength."
For a moment, neither of them moved. The room felt small, warm, protective — a sanctuary carved out of danger.
Then Kaydence stepped back just enough to give her room to breathe.
"Come," he said gently. "Sit. Rest. You're safe now."
Meisha nodded, her body finally allowing itself to soften as she moved toward the bed — toward the one place in the estate where she could let her guard down.
And Kaydence watched her with the quiet, unwavering vow he had made earlier still burning behind his eyes.
He would not let Warren touch her again.
Not while he still drew breath.
The deep toll of the town bell rolled through the stone walls like a slow wave, pulling Meisha from sleep. She blinked, disoriented for a moment, until the meaning settled in her mind:
The beast had been slain. The danger outside had passed. The estate would soon return to its usual rhythm.
She didn't move right away.
Instead, she lay still, her cheek pressed to the pillow, her body heavy with the kind of exhaustion that sleep only softened, not erased.
Across the room, Kaydence sat on the small cot, half clad in his armor. His chest plate rested beside him, but the bracers and greaves remained, as if he had been ready—truly ready—to move at a moment's notice.
He sat with his legs crossed, eyes closed, hands resting lightly on his knees. His breathing was slow, controlled, the kind of meditative rhythm that came from years of discipline and a lifetime of war.
Meisha watched him quietly.
There was something grounding about the sight of him—still, steady, unshaken even after sensing everything she had endured. But the longer she watched, the more a soft sadness crept into her chest.
The day was waning.
And with it, the time she had left with him.
Soon he would have to return to the forest, to the shadows, to the dangerous in‑between life he lived. He had promised he would come back for her—truly come back—but she didn't know when. Or how. Or what state she would be in when he did.
The thought hollowed her a little.
She didn't speak. She didn't want to disturb him. She simply watched, memorizing the lines of his face, the curve of his shoulders, the quiet strength in the way he held himself.
Kaydence felt her wakefulness the moment her heartbeat shifted. He didn't open his eyes, didn't turn toward her, didn't break the stillness of his meditation.
But he felt her sadness.
He felt it like a faint tremor in the air—soft, but unmistakable.
He breathed in slowly, letting the sensation settle in his chest. He didn't speak. Words would have broken the fragile peace she'd found in watching him.
Instead, he turned inward.
I was seconds away from intervening, he admitted to himself. Seconds from abandoning the plan entirely.
He had felt Warren's hands on her. Felt her fear spike. Felt the moment she pushed back, the moment she refused to break, the moment she held her ground with a strength that made his chest ache.
And he had nearly gone to her.
Nearly revealed himself. Nearly thrown everything away.
I have to get her out of this damned place, he thought, the vow burning hotter than before. Before Warren tries again. Before Varrick decides she's his to claim. Before this estate swallows her whole.
His jaw tightened.
Soon. I will get her out soon.
He exhaled slowly, letting the meditation pull him back into calm—but the vow remained, sharp and unyielding beneath the surface.
Across the room, Meisha watched him with quiet longing, unaware that every beat of her heart was already shaping his next move.
She lay still for a long moment, watching Kaydence through half‑lidded eyes. The steady rise and fall of his breath, the calm strength in his posture, the way the dim light caught the edges of his armor — it all wrapped around her like a quiet reassurance.
But the sadness lingering in her chest wouldn't let her stay silent forever.
She pushed past it, past the heaviness, past the ache of knowing their time was slipping away.
"…Kaydence," she whispered.
His eyes opened instantly, yet slowly.
Not startled. Not alarmed. Just present.
He turned his head toward her, and when their gazes met, something warm and centering passed between them. His expression softened — a comforting peer that felt like a hand cupping her heart.
Her breath caught.
It skipped a beat. A flutter stirred low in her stomach. The heat rushed to her cheeks so suddenly it startled her.
She didn't know what to do with the sensation — it was too new, too unexpected, too vulnerable — so she did the only thing her body allowed:
So, she turned and buried her face in her pillow.
Kaydence blinked, reading the sudden shift in her rhythm with mild confusion. Her heartbeat was quick but not frightened. Her breathing was warm, flustered, almost shy.
His head tilted slightly.
"Are you alright?" he asked, voice low and careful.
A muffled sound came from the pillow. "Yes… I'm fine. Just… still tired from earlier."
Kaydence studied her for another moment, then nodded once, accepting her answer without pressing.
"Continue to rest," he said gently. "Your body will need it."
Meisha nodded into the pillow — a small, sleepy bob of her head — followed by a soft yawn she couldn't suppress.
"Thank you…" she murmured, voice thick with drowsiness. "If… if anyone comes to the door…, will you wake me?"
"I will," Kaydence said. "Rest now."
His tone held no command, only care — the kind that settled into her being and made her eyelids heavy.
Meisha curled deeper into the blankets, letting the warmth of the room and the steady presence of Kaydence lull her back toward sleep. Her last waking thought was a quiet, grateful one:
He's here. I'm safe.
Kaydence remained seated on the cot, eyes returning to the door, senses sharpened, vow unbroken.
He would wake her if anyone approached.
He would guard her until she woke on her own.
And he would not let anything — or anyone — touch her again.
Hours later.
A gentle pressure on her shoulder pulled Meisha from sleep.
Not a shake. Not a jolt. Just a warm, steady hand guided her back to waking.
Her eyes fluttered open, and instinct kicked in before thought could catch up. She pushed herself up abruptly, breath catching.
"Is someone at the door—?"
Kaydence's other hand rose immediately, steadying her with a soft but firm touch.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "No one is here."
His voice was low, calm, grounding — the kind of tone that smoothed the edges of her panic before it could fully form.
Meisha blinked, her heart still racing from the sudden rush. Kaydence kept his hand lightly on her shoulder until her breathing evened out.
"It's just time," he continued. "Night has fallen. We need to leave and rendezvous with Nichelle."
The words settled over her like a shift in the air — not frightening, but sobering. The day had slipped away faster than she realized. The safety of her quarters, the warmth of Kaydence's presence, the exhaustion that had pulled her under… it had all blurred the hours together.
She rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the last remnants of sleep. "Oh… I didn't realize it was so late already."
Kaydence watched her with that same quiet attentiveness he always carried around her — reading her breathing, her posture, the lingering fatigue in her limbs.
"You needed the rest," he said. "I wasn't going to wake you until it was necessary."
Meisha's gaze softened. There was something in his tone — something protective, something steady — that made her chest warm.
"Are you alright to stand?" he asked.
Meisha nodded, though her body still felt heavy. "Yes… I'm alright."
Kaydence didn't challenge her answer, but his eyes lingered on her a moment longer, as if committing her steadiness to memory.
"Good," he said quietly. "We should move soon."
Meisha took a slow breath, gathering herself. The fear of earlier still lingered in her bones, but Kaydence's presence wrapped around her like a shield.
Meisha pushed the blankets aside and rose from the bed, her movements slow but steady. The cold of the stone floor seeped through her feet, reminding her of the night waiting beyond the safety of her quarters. She crossed to the small chest near the wall and pulled out her winter boots, the leather stiff from the season's chill.
She sat on the edge of the bed again, slipping her feet into thick cotton socks, one at a time. The familiar weight balanced her. Next came her hooded cloak — thick, dark, and lined with wool. She swung it over her shoulders, fastening the clasp at her collarbone with fingers that still felt a little shaky from the day's earlier events.
Across the room, Kaydence was a quiet storm of controlled preparation.
He stood beside his cot, sliding his chest plate into place with familiar ease. The metal caught the dim light as he tightened the straps across his torso. His movements were fluid, efficient — the motions of someone who had done this countless times, even in the dark, even under pressure.
Meisha watched him for a moment, the contrast striking: her soft cloak and boots, his hardened armor and silent readiness. Two worlds preparing to walk side by side into the night.
Kaydence lifted his pauldrons next, securing them over his shoulders. The faint clink of metal echoed softly in the small room. He didn't rush, but there was an urgency beneath his calm — a quiet awareness that time was slipping, and danger was always a step behind them.
Meisha pulled her hood up, tucking her braid beneath it to shield her neck from the cold. She tied the cloak's inner strings, then smoothed the fabric down her front. She then grabs the remaining vials from the shelf and uses one, massaging the sage and lavender oil on her hands and face.
She passed one to him as well and he proceeded to do the same.
Once finished, Kaydence glanced over at her just as he fastened the last strap of his armor. His gaze swept over her — not in judgment, not in command, but in a silent check to make sure she was warm enough, steady enough, and ready enough.
"You're prepared," he said softly.
Meisha nodded. "As ready as I can be."
Kaydence reached for his gloves, sliding them on with a final tug. The transformation was complete — the wounded general hidden beneath the guise of a shadowed guardian once more.
He stepped toward her, the weight of his armor making the floorboards hum faintly beneath his feet.
The two followed closely to one another as they ascended the narrow basement stairs, her boots whispering against the stone. The air grew colder the higher they climbed, the faint draft from the upper corridor brushing against her cloak.
When they reached the top step, Kaydence lifted a hand — a silent command to stop.
Meisha froze instantly.
Kaydence stepped forward just enough to place himself between her and the door. His eyes softened for a brief moment, reassuring her without words, before he closed them and let his senses unfurl.
Meisha watched him, her breath held.
Kaydence's breathing slowed. His shoulders relaxed. His awareness stretched outward like invisible threads weaving through the estate.
He felt the rhythm of the place — the heartbeat of the manor itself.
The halls were quiet. The servants had settled. The guards were stationed but calm. The night had wrapped the estate in a heavy stillness.
Satisfied with the general atmosphere, he pushed deeper, focusing specifically on the Hennis men.
A faint vibration pulsed from the east wing — Lord Varrick pacing in his study, agitated, muttering under his breath. The rhythm of his steps was sharp, uneven, fueled by the news Silas had delivered about Warren's behavior.
Further west, another steady pulse — Duke Noren, awake at a desk in one of the spare chambers, sifting through documents with the slow, methodical rhythm of a man who rarely slept.
Kaydence shifted his focus again.
Searching for the third.
Searching for Warren.
Nothing.
No footsteps. No breath. No presence. No trace of him anywhere within the estate walls.
Kaydence's brow furrowed.
Warren's absence wasn't a relief — it was a threat. A loose thread in the dark. A predator unaccounted for.
Meisha noticed the frown immediately. Her stomach tightened, but she didn't speak. She knew better than to interrupt him when he was sensing. She folded her hands together, grounding herself in patience.
If it's important, she told herself, he'll tell me.
Kaydence's eyes opened at last.
He gave a small nod — the signal that it was safe to move — but his expression remained tense.
"We're clear," he said quietly. "But we need to proceed with extreme caution."
Meisha stepped closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "Because of Warren?"
Kaydence nodded once. "I can't sense him anywhere in the estate. He hasn't returned since the beast was slain."
A chill ran down Meisha's spine.
Kaydence continued, his tone low and controlled. "His absence means he's either lingering somewhere outside… or he's moving with intent. Either way, we stay alert. Especially when you return here alone."
Meisha swallowed, but she didn't falter. She nodded, trusting him completely.
Kaydence opened the door just enough to peer into the corridor. The hall was dim, lit only by a few dying sconces. Quiet. Still.
He stepped out first, his body angled protectively.
Then he extended a hand back toward her — not touching, but guiding.
"Stay close," he murmured.
"Okay," Meisha whispered, her voice soft but steady.
She placed her hand in Kaydence's without hesitation. His grip was warm, firm, guiding — not pulling, not controlling, simply leading her through the danger with a presence that made her chest loosen.
Kaydence pushed the door open just enough for her to slip through first. Meisha stepped into the dim corridor, her cloak brushing softly against the stone. Kaydence followed immediately after, closing the door behind them with a quiet click that barely disturbed the silence.
Meisha took the lead, her steps light and practiced. She knew these halls better than anyone — every creak, every draft, every shadow. Kaydence stayed close behind her, his armor whispering with each movement, his senses stretched thin across the estate like a protective veil.
They walked only a short distance before Meisha stopped abruptly.
Kaydence halted instantly, alert.
Meisha reached for a door on the opposite wall — a plain wooden one most people overlooked. She opened it quickly, slipping inside the storage room with Kaydence right behind her.
The room was cluttered with crates, sacks of grain, and old tools. The air smelled faintly of dust and dried herbs. Meisha moved toward the back wall, where the hidden passage waited behind stacked crates.
Before she descended the concealed steps, she turned to Kaydence.
"Can you check again?" she asked quietly. "To see if there are any patrolling guards near the outer wall?"
Kaydence nodded once.
He closed his eyes, grounding himself. The room seemed to still around him, as if even the dust motes paused midair.
Meisha watched him, her breath held.
Kaydence reached outward with his senses — past the storage room, past the estate walls, past the quiet hum of sleeping servants. He pushed toward the outer perimeter, searching for the rhythmic footfalls of guards, the metallic clink of armor, the steady breaths of men on patrol.
The vibrations came to him slowly, like ripples across a pond.
Two guards near the north gate — stationary, talking quietly. One guard near the stables — half‑asleep, leaning on his spear. Another pair near the southern wall — walking their route, but far from the hidden exit.
No one near the collapsed section of the outer wall.
No one near the vines and ivy concealing their escape route.
Kaydence opened his eyes.
"We're clear," he said. "No guards near the outer wall. But we still move carefully."
Meisha nodded, relief softening her shoulders.
Kaydence stepped closer, lowering his voice. "I'll stay behind you on the stairs. If anything shifts, I'll feel it first."
Meisha met his gaze, trusting him completely.
"Alright," she whispered.
And together, they turned toward the hidden steps — the narrow, shadowed path that would lead them out of the estate and into the night where Nichelle waited.
The hidden steps creaked softly beneath their feet as Meisha led the way down, Kaydence close behind her. The air grew colder the deeper they descended, the scent of earth and old stone wrapping around them like a forgotten memory.
Their footsteps echoed faintly, swallowed quickly by the narrow passage.
After a few moments of silence, Kaydence's voice drifted forward — low, curious, and gentle.
"How did you discover this place?" he asked. "And does anyone else know about it?"
Meisha kept her hand in his as they walked, her fingers brushing the rough wall to guide her. "I found it ten years ago," she said softly. "I was hiding from one of Varrick's scoldings."
Kaydence's brows drew together. "Scoldings?"
She gave a small, humorless huff. "I don't even remember what I did to set him off. I just remember running. Trying to avoid being beaten."
Kaydence's grip tightened slightly — not painfully, but with a protective tension he didn't bother to hide.
Meisha continued, her voice steady despite the memories. "I don't think anyone else knows about this place. None of the other servants come to this part of the estate. It's always been… mine."
"Not even Varrick?" Kaydence asked.
"Not even him," she replied. "I doubt he even knows all the ins and outs of this place."
"Why is that?"
Meisha stepped over a fallen stone, guiding him around it. "Over the years, I've heard rumors. That this property was given to him out of spite. A burden, not a gift. So he never cared to learn it fully."
Kaydence absorbed that quietly.
Meisha's voice softened. "Whenever I want to feel anything close to freedom… I come here. I sit in the corridor. It helps ease the feeling of being captive. Even if just for a moment."
Kaydence listened to every word, the cold air around them seeming to still.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "That you had to endure all of that. And on top of grieving your mother."
Meisha let out a light, almost playful chuckle — the kind that tried to soften the weight of her own pain. "It's unnecessary for you to apologize. You weren't the one who did any of it."
"No," Kaydence said, his voice firm but warm. "But you are still owed an apology."
Meisha slowed her steps, glancing back at him with a small, tender smile. "Well… at least now I know everything I've gone through won't be in vain. Not now that I've met you."
Her voice dipped, vulnerable but hopeful. "You're going to keep your word and come back for me… right?"
Kaydence's grip tightened around her hand — a subtle but unmistakable promise.
"Yes," he said, the vow in his voice deep and unwavering. "I vow to keep my word."
Meisha's heart steadied. She faced forward again, guiding him deeper into the corridor.
"Then I can endure a bit more," she whispered. "Until you return for me."
Kaydence didn't speak, but the silence between them shifted — warm, fierce, and full of unspoken devotion.
The narrow corridor opened into a small stone landing, the final set of steps leading up toward the outer wall. Cold air drifted down from above, carrying the scent of night and distant pine.
Meisha paused at the base of the steps and turned to Kaydence.
"Can you check again?" she whispered. "To see if anyone's outside… near the wall?"
Kaydence nodded, closing his eyes. His hand remained clasped in hers, grounding him as he reached outward with his senses.
The vibrations came slowly at first — faint ripples across the estate grounds.
Two guards patrolling near the north gate. Another pair circling the southern perimeter. A lone guard near the stables, half‑asleep. But no one near the collapsed section of the outer wall. No one on the other side of the vines. No one close enough to see them slip out.
Kaydence opened his eyes.
"We're clear," he murmured. "No one near the wall. We can proceed."
Meisha nodded. "Okay."
She turned to ascend the steps, Kaydence's hand still in hers.
But before she could take another step, his grip faltered.
Meisha stopped instantly. "Kaydence…?"
She turned—and her breath caught.
Kaydence was leaning heavily against the corridor wall, his chest rising and falling in uneven, labored breaths. Moonlight from the stairwell above caught the sheen of sweat on his brow.
"Kaydence!" she hissed in a sharp whisper, rushing to him.
She guided him down to sit on the first step, her hands steady even as her heart raced. She reached into her cloak pocket, pulling out a small handkerchief, and gently dabbed the beads of sweat from his forehead.
His skin was warm—too warm.
As she tended to him, Kaydence's eyes narrowed, sensing something off in the air, something he couldn't quite name.
"Meisha…" he murmured, voice strained. "Maybe we should go back. Abort the plan. Wait until my father arrives."
Meisha froze for a heartbeat, then shook her head firmly.
"We can't," she whispered. "You may not last that long."
Kaydence's gaze flickered to her, confused. "I'm healing—"
"Physically," she cut in softly but firmly. "But you said yourself your abilities aren't at full strength. And now… this."
She brushed another bead of sweat from his temple.
"The toxins weren't meant to just stop your regeneration," she continued. "They were meant to weaken your innate abilities too. And the way you are right now… it means the toxins are still inside you. You need a proper healer."
Kaydence clenched his jaw. "I can hold out a bit longer. Until my father arrives."
Meisha's breath trembled. "And what if Warren convinces Varrick to do a sweep of my quarters?"
Kaydence stilled.
"You're in no shape to fight," she whispered. "And if they manage to kill you… they can hide their tracks just like they hid me."
Her voice cracked on the last word.
Tears welled in her eyes, the fear she'd been holding back finally slipping through.
Kaydence reached up, taking her hand—the one holding the handkerchief—and guided it back to his forehead. Then he lowered his face into her palm, his breath warm against her skin.
"I worry…" he whispered, voice raw, "that I won't make it back in time."
Meisha's heart clenched.
She moved her thumb gently over his lips, silencing the fear before it could take root.
"You will," she whispered. "Because I believe that you will."
Kaydence closed his eyes, leaning into her touch as if it were the only thing anchoring him to the moment.
And for a breath, the cold corridor felt warm.
Alive.
Full of something neither of them dared name yet.
Meisha's words settled into Kaydence like warmth spreading through cold limbs. The fear in his breath eased, replaced by something steadier — something anchored in her belief.
He drew in a slow breath, bracing himself, and nodded.
"Let's move," he murmured.
Meisha slipped an arm beneath his, helping him rise from the step. His weight leaned into her for a moment — heavier than he meant it to be — but she held firm, guiding him upward with quiet strength. Each step was careful, deliberate, her body angled to support him without making him feel weak.
When they reached the top of the stairs, the night air brushed against their faces, crisp and biting. The moonlight spilled across the snow‑dusted ground, illuminating the collapsed portion of the outer wall in the distance.
Meisha kept her voice low. "How many more times can you use your ability before we reach Nichelle?"
Kaydence steadied himself against the stone, his breath visible in the cold. "Maybe three more times," he said. "But the third… would be pushing it."
Meisha nodded firmly. "Then we only use it if absolutely necessary. Once we cross the river and enter the forest, Nichelle won't be far."
Kaydence gave a small, agreeing nod. The trust in her voice, the certainty — it helped him stand a little straighter.
They moved toward the collapsed wall, the snow crunching softly beneath their boots. The vines and rubble cast long shadows across the ground, the perfect cover for slipping out unnoticed.
As they neared the breach, Meisha stopped and turned to him.
"I'll go first," she whispered. "Make sure there are no patrolling guards nearby."
Kaydence opened his mouth to protest, but she was already easing him down to sit against a large stone, her hands gentle but firm.
"Rest for a moment," she said. "I'll be quick."
Kaydence exhaled, frustration and gratitude tangled in his chest. He watched her pull her hood tighter, watched the determination settle across her features.
"Be careful," he murmured.
Meisha gave him a soft, reassuring look — one that said she wasn't afraid, not with him waiting for her.
Then she slipped toward the collapsed wall, her steps silent, her cloak blending into the night.
Kaydence watched her go, his senses stretched thin, his heart beating with a mix of worry and awe.
She wasn't just surviving anymore.
She was moving with purpose.
With courage.
With him.
And he would follow her — even if it meant crawling through the snow to keep his vow.
Meisha slipped through the collapsed wall with the ease of someone who had done this many times before. The vines brushed her cloak as she disappeared into the thicket, her silhouette swallowed by moonlit branches.
Kaydence watched her go, every instinct screaming to follow — but his body wouldn't allow it. Not yet. Not until he steadied himself.
He drew in a slow breath, leaning back against the cold stone. The night air bit at his skin, but it helped clear the fog in his mind.
Just a moment, he told himself. Just enough to move again.
But then—
A faint vibration rippled through the ground.
Kaydence's eyes snapped open.
Footsteps.
Slow. Heavy. Purposeful.
A guard.
Kaydence's pulse quickened. He pressed himself lower against the rubble, trying to make his armored form as small as possible in the shadows. The lantern's glow flickered through the vines, casting long, wavering beams of light across the snow.
The guard was heading straight toward him.
Kaydence swallowed hard, forcing his breath silent. His hand twitched, wanting to reach for Meisha — to warn her — but she was too far to hear him without shouting.
Still, he tried.
"Meisha…" he whispered, barely audible. "Meisha—"
The guard's lantern swung closer.
Kaydence's heart pounded. His abilities were too weak to mask his presence. If the guard stepped just a few feet further, he would see him — a wounded man in armor, crouched at the estate's outer wall.
But then—
"Hey! Over here!"
Another guard's voice cut through the night.
The lantern paused.
"What is it?" the approaching guard called back.
"Tracks by the north path! Could be from the beast or something else. Come take a look!"
The guard hesitated, then turned away, footsteps crunching in the opposite direction.
Kaydence let out a long, shaky breath — relief washing through him like a wave. His head fell back against the stone, eyes closing for a moment.
Too close.
Far too close.
A rustle came from the thicket.
Kaydence tensed again — until Meisha emerged, brushing branches aside as she hurried toward him.
Her eyes widened the moment she saw his expression.
"Kaydence?" she whispered urgently. "What happened?"
He shook his head, still catching his breath. "A guard… almost found me. But he was called away."
Meisha's hand flew to her chest, relief and fear mingling in her eyes. She knelt beside him, her cloak pooling around them both.
"Come on," she murmured, slipping her arm beneath his once more. "Let's get you through the breach before anyone else comes."
Kaydence nodded, letting her guide him. Her strength, her steadiness — it was the only thing keeping him upright.
As she helped him rise, her hand tightened around his.
"I'm here," she whispered. "I've got you."
And together, they slipped through the collapsed wall, into the cold night beyond — toward the river, the forest, and the hope waiting with Nichelle.
The night deepened around them as they made their way toward the river, the estate shrinking behind them with every careful step. The cold bit at their cheeks, but Meisha kept her pace steady, her hand wrapped firmly around Kaydence's.
After a stretch of silence, she glanced up at him.
"How are you holding up?" she whispered.
Kaydence's answer came after a beat too long.
"…I'm managing."
But Meisha heard the strain beneath the words. She felt it in the uneven pull of his breath. She sensed it in the way his weight leaned into her more with each step.
He wasn't telling her the full truth — but she didn't push. Not yet. Not when his pride and honor as a commanding general were stitched so tightly into his spine.
Their journey continued smoothly enough, though it demanded caution. Twice they ducked into the bushes, cloaks brushing against frost‑covered branches as lantern light swept across the snow. Once, they crouched low in the darkness, Kaydence's breath warm against her ear as a guard passed only a few yards away.
But they remained unseen.
The river's murmur grew louder, guiding them like a whispered promise. The trees thinned, letting moonlight spill across the snow in pale ribbons. The collapsed wall was far behind them now, swallowed by the night.
Meisha paused at the riverbank, steadying Kaydence as he navigated the uneven ground. The water rushed quietly beside them, silver and cold.
"We're close," she whispered.
Kaydence nodded, though his breath hitched sharply. "Lead the way."
They crossed the short wooden bridge, its planks creaking softly beneath their feet. On the other side, the forest welcomed them — tall, dark, and familiar. Meisha guided him toward the great hollow tree where she had first met Nichelle.
For a moment, the world felt still.
Kaydence's voice broke the quiet.
"When you're free from Varrick's clutches… what's the first thing you'll do?"
Meisha blinked, surprised by the softness in his tone. Then she smiled — small, warm, real.
"I'm going to run to my father," she said. "And hug him. For as long as he'll let me."
Kaydence's lips curved faintly. "I think that's a beautiful idea."
But before she could respond, his breath faltered — a sharp, uneven pull that made him stumble.
"Kaydence!" she whispered, catching him before he fell.
He braced a hand against a tree, trying to steady himself. "I'm fine. I can keep going."
Meisha shook her head, her voice firm but gentle. "No. You're okay to rest for a moment. We're in the forest now. The rendezvous point is just ahead."
She guided him to sit at the base of a sturdy tree, its bark rough against his back. His breathing was ragged, his skin too warm beneath the cold night air.
Meisha knelt beside him; her hand still wrapped around his.
"Just a moment," she murmured. "Then we'll keep going."
Kaydence closed his eyes, letting the tree support him, letting her presence steady the trembling in his limbs.
Kaydence drew in a breath and pushed himself off the tree far too soon.
"Kaydence—" Meisha began, but he was already trying to stand.
His knees buckled.
Meisha lunged forward, bracing her shoulder under his arm just in time to keep him from collapsing fully to the forest floor. His armor weighed heavily against her, nearly knocking her off balance.
"Kaydence!" she hissed, her voice sharp with fear. "You can't stand yet!"
He steadied himself with a hand on her shoulder, breath ragged. "No… we need to move. You have to get back before anyone thinks to check on you."
Meisha opened her mouth to argue — to tell him he was being reckless — but the logic in his words struck her like cold water. Time was slipping. The estate would not stay quiet forever.
She exhaled slowly, forcing her frustration down. "Fine. But you lean on me, and you move slowly. No more pushing yourself past your limit."
Kaydence nodded, though the tension in his jaw betrayed how much he hated needing help.
They continued forward, deeper into the forest. The moonlight filtered through the branches in thin, silver strands. The air grew colder, the ground uneven beneath their boots.
With each step, Meisha felt it — the subtle shift in his weight.
He leaned on her more heavily. His steps grew slower. His breath came in shorter, harsher pulls.
The toxins were spreading again, creeping through his muscles, dulling his strength.
"Just a little farther," Meisha whispered, trying to keep her voice steady. "Nichelle's close. You can do this."
Kaydence tried to take another step.
His leg gave out.
The full weight of his body and armor sagged into her, forcing her to guide him down against another tree before he collapsed outright. She lowered him carefully, her own breath shaking from the effort.
"Kaydence…" she whispered, brushing his hair back from his damp forehead. "You should've rested longer."
He didn't answer — not because he refused, but because he couldn't catch enough breath to speak.
Meisha sank beside him, trying to steady her own breathing. The forest was quiet except for the distant rustle of branches and Kaydence's uneven breaths.
Then—
A soft thud. A shift of weight in the branches above. A flicker of movement in the shadows.
Meisha's head snapped up.
Two figures dropped from the high branches, landing silently in the snow. Lower‑ranked soldiers — cloaked, masked, blades already half‑drawn.
Their eyes locked on Meisha.
One reached for his short sword.
The other followed.
Meisha froze, her heart leaping into her throat.
Before either blade could clear its sheath—
"Don't you dare draw your weapons."
Nichelle's voice cut through the forest like a whip.
She stepped out from behind a thick trunk, her presence commanding, her eyes sharp with warning.
Both soldiers halted instantly.
Nichelle strode forward, placing herself between them and Meisha. "She is the reason General Kaydence is alive right now."
The soldiers stiffened, lowering their hands from their hilts.
Meisha exhaled shakily, relief washing through her as Nichelle knelt beside Kaydence, her expression shifting from fierce to deeply concerned.
"You brought him this far," Nichelle murmured to Meisha. "Good. Now we can take him the rest of the way."
Nichelle dropped to one knee before Meisha without hesitation, her fist pressed to the ground in a gesture of deep respect. The two soldiers who had accompanied her followed suit instantly, their heads bowed.
"Thank you," Nichelle said, voice steady but reverent. "For saving our general."
Meisha, exhausted and trembling from the journey, barely acknowledged the gesture. She shook her head, her focus fixed entirely on Kaydence's weakening form.
"He's getting worse," she said, her voice tight. "The toxins are still in him. He needs a healer immediately."
Nichelle rose smoothly to her feet, her expression shifting from respect to command. She stepped back and motioned sharply with her hand.
The two soldiers moved at once.
They positioned themselves on either side of Kaydence — one on his left, the other on his right — slipping his arms over their shoulders. With practiced coordination, they lifted him to a standing position. His legs barely held; his head hung forward, breath shallow.
Meisha pushed herself up as well, watching with worry etched across her face.
Nichelle reached into her cloak and pulled out a small flask. She uncapped it and brought it to Kaydence's lips.
"Sir," she said softly but firmly, "if you can hear me — this tonic will hold you over until we reach Father's caravan. The court healers are with him."
Kaydence didn't respond. His head remained low, too heavy for him to lift.
Meisha stepped forward immediately.
"Here," she whispered.
She slid her hand beneath his chin, lifting his face gently. The moment her skin touched his, Kaydence stirred — his eyes fluttering open just enough to recognize her presence.
He drank.
Slowly at first, then fully, swallowing every drop of the tonic. Some color returned to his cheeks, but only faintly. His body still sagged heavily between the soldiers.
He tried to speak.
His lips parted, breath trembling, voice barely a whisper.
"Nichelle… get Meisha… back to the estate… before anyone notices she's gone… and be wary… of a patrolling high‑ranking noble…"
Meisha didn't hear the words — only the rasp of his breath.
But Nichelle did.
"Yes, sir," she answered immediately, her tone crisp with obedience.
Before Meisha could step closer — before she could say goodbye, or thank him, or even touch his hand one last time — Nichelle snapped her fingers.
"Move!"
The two soldiers obeyed without hesitation. They leapt into the trees, carrying Kaydence's weakened form with them, disappearing into the darkness like shadows swallowed by the night.
Meisha's breath caught.
Her face fell, dismay tightening her features. She reached out instinctively, but they were already gone.
Nichelle turned to her, reading the emotion with ease.
"Do not worry," she said gently. "You will see him again very soon."
Meisha lowered her gaze, giving a small, sad nod. "Okay…"
Nichelle's expression hardened — not unkindly, but with the steel of a lieutenant carrying out her general's final order.
"Now," she said, stepping closer, "I am a lieutenant who follows the orders of her general. And I intend to do just that."
Meisha blinked, confused. "What order?"
Nichelle didn't answer with words.
She scooped Meisha into her arms in one swift motion.
Before Meisha could protest, Nichelle bent her knees, launched upward, and soared into the highest branches of the trees. The forest blurred beneath them as she leapt from limb to limb, carrying Meisha back toward the estate with the speed and precision of a trained warrior.
The night swallowed their path, the wind rushing past Meisha's ears, her heart pounding with fear, relief, and the lingering ache of a goodbye she never got to speak.