Emilie's sword swings felt light, each movement a deadly dance. But suddenly, she sensed a shift. The air around her hummed with a low vibration. The rifthounds, previously attacking with savage ferocity, froze, their bodies twitching oddly before dissolving into black mist and vanishing into invisible portals.
She tilted her head, brows furrowing. "What just happened?"
Her gaze swept the battlefield. She spotted Armand, then Madeleine. Both stood in a similar eerie silence, surrounded by air still tinged with the scent of ozone.
Armand, panting heavily, collapsed onto the ground. He lay flat on his back, staring at the clear blue sky, his chest heaving as a long, relieved sigh escaped his lips.
In contrast, Madeleine stood tall, not a trace of exhaustion on her face. She caught Emilie's gaze and flashed a faint, confident smile.
Emilie returned the smile. Sister Madeleine is truly strong…
Then, like a cold wave crashing over her, a realization hit.
Philippe!
Her eyes widened in horror. He's alone in the forest, chasing the coachman!
Without a second thought, Emilie spun on her heel and sprinted toward the forest with all her strength.
"Please be okay, please be okay," she chanted in her mind, each step accompanied by the worst-case scenarios flashing through her thoughts. Cold sweat beaded on her temples.
As she neared the tree line, the bushes ahead rustled violently.
Emilie halted abruptly, her body tensing. Narrowing her eyes, she raised her sword.
"Show yourself!" she shouted, her voice hoarse with panic. "I don't have time for this nonsense!"
The bushes shook harder, and a figure stumbled out from behind them.
Emilie's breath caught. Her sword dipped slightly. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
It was a young man she knew well. His clothes were smeared with dirt and mud, dried blood staining his sleeve. His face was pale and slick with sweat, but when his eyes met hers, a genuine smile of relief spread across his face.
Emilie shook her head slowly, banishing the terrifying images that had haunted her. The heavy weight in her chest lifted. She smiled back.
Thank goodness… you're okay, Philippe, she whispered to herself.
* * *
Having just emerged from the dim confines of the forest, Philippe finally let out a long breath. He scanned his surroundings.
The battle was over.
The field, once alive with howls and the clash of steel, was now silent.
Only a few rifthound corpses littered the ground—far fewer than he remembered. So, they all fled too?
The scene around him led him to that conclusion.
Emilie approached, her relieved smile still in place. "You okay?"
Philippe scratched the back of his head, though it didn't itch, a sheepish grin forming. "Just a few scratches. No big deal."
Emilie's radiant smile was infectious, coaxing a more genuine one from Philippe. Moments later, he noticed her glance toward the forest behind him, searching for someone who hadn't appeared. Her smile slowly faded.
Sensing what was on her mind, guilt slammed into Philippe.
She looked back at him, her lips parting as if to ask something, but no words came.
Unable to bear her gaze, Philippe lowered his head. He bit his lip so hard it stung, his fists clenching at his sides.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice nearly swallowed by the breeze. "I… couldn't save him."
A heavy silence enveloped them.
At that moment, Armand's cheerful voice cut through the tension. "How're you holding up?" He sauntered over, waving as if returning from a pleasant outing.
Philippe stared at him in disbelief, then let out a soft chuckle. "As you can see," he said, gesturing to his wounded arm, "pretty beat up."
Armand then noticed the strange atmosphere between Philippe and Emilie. He paused, glancing between them.
His brow furrowed as if puzzling something out, then his eyes lit up, as though he'd cracked a mystery.
Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a gentle hand patted his shoulder. Madeleine had appeared beside him.
Their eyes met. Madeleine offered a faint smile and shook her head slightly. Don't say anything. That was the message Armand caught in her gaze.
He swallowed hard, forcing a stiff, clearly strained smile.
Madeleine then turned her attention to Philippe. She looked deep into his eyes, her gaze drifting to the bloodstains on his clothes, then settling on his injured arm.
After a few seconds that felt endlessly long, the corner of her mouth lifted slightly.
"How about we continue the journey?" she suggested calmly.
Philippe blinked, startled. He lowered his head. "But…" He looked up again.
Madeleine raised her index finger, pointing at him with the same smile still in place.
"You're driving, okay?"
Philippe's eyes widened, his mouth opening but no words escaping. Me? he asked, incredulous, pointing at himself.
At that moment, Madeleine's smile widened, now brimming with genuine warmth. "Who else?" she said, then turned and climbed into the carriage with graceful ease.
Emilie, who had been silent, let out a soft chuckle, dispelling the lingering tension.
"Good luck!" she said to Philippe, then followed Madeleine into the carriage.
Armand crossed his arms, nodding with a mock-sage expression before climbing in as well.
Philippe stood frozen, staring at them in confusion. What was with that nod? And why did Emilie wish me luck?
A horrifying realization crept over him.
I don't even know how to handle horses…
***
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