Twigs snapped beneath their feet as the three walked deeper into the forest. "Your Majesty, I think we should rest," Lady Virelle suggested, her eyes fixed on the small waterfall ahead. "It's been forty-eight hours, and I could really use a bath."
The duo followed her gaze, both sighing in relief. This was exactly what they needed.
It felt like the ground was on fire as the three ran toward the waterfall, with Freya forgetting all about her royal composure. Who was there to judge her? The two people with her knew the real Freya, so why not act like a commoner for once?
Back at her modern home, strict rules dictated every aspect of her life, from who she could associate with to which schoolmates were acceptable. Now, with a chance to break free from all that...
"Guys... I don't want to be called 'Your Majesty,'" Freya said.
The two stopped, not because of her request, but because of the odd way she had started the sentence. "Guys... what's that?"
The sound of the waterfall was deafening as Freya stood beneath it, the cool water rushing over her, washing away the dust of their journey. She breathed in deeply, finally feeling like she could relax. On the opposite side, Sir Gaven kept his distance, his back turned, as he made sure to respect their privacy.
Lady Virelle, ever the pragmatic one, was sitting on a large flat stone, scrubbing her arms with a contented sigh. "This is what we needed," she muttered.
Freya was about to agree when something under the stone she'd perched on caught her eye. A strange shadow, almost lifeless, shifting with the current. Her breath caught in her throat. "Guys..."
But before anyone could react, she screamed a shrill, panic-filled cry that echoed through the forest.
Lady Virelle shot to her feet, her eyes darting around. "What? What is it?"
Freya was already scrambling, her feet slipping on the wet stone as she jumped off her perch and pointed. "There's someone in the water! A body!"
Both Lady Virelle and Freya rushed to the edge of the falls, staring at the lifeless figure drifting toward them. It was a boy, skinny, his skin pale and unhealthy, his body barely clinging to the surface of the water.
Sir Gaven, hearing the commotion, whipped around, instinctively rushing toward them only to stop dead in his tracks, his eyes wide as he realized what had just happened.
"By the gods…!" he stammered, turning his back to them, face flushed crimson. "I… I didn't see anything! I swear it!"
Freya, flustered but focused on the body, barely spared a glance at Sir Gaven's sudden awkward retreat. "He's alive... but just barely. We need to get him out of the water!"
Lady Virelle nodded sharply, her earlier annoyance forgotten as she rushed to help, but Sir Gaven remained frozen, still recovering from his near-blunder.
Fully dressed now, the three had carried the frail body out of the water and into the shade beneath a large, leafy tree. They laid him down gently, the boy's skin pale and cold to the touch.
Freya knelt beside him, her brows furrowed with concern, ready to help. But just as she reached forward, Sir Gaven spoke firmly but respectfully, "Excuse me, Your Majesty allow me."
Without protest, Freya moved aside. Gaven knelt, his long fingers steady as he pressed against the boy's chest, careful not to use too much force on the fragile frame. He worked in silence, focused, his jaw tight with concentration.
After several tense moments, the boy suddenly coughed a weak, rattling sound as water spilled from his mouth. Relief washed over them all, but it was short-lived. The boy remained unconscious, his breathing shallow, his body limp.
"He's alive," Gaven confirmed, checking his pulse. "But barely. He's gone days without food… possibly longer."
Freya looked down at the boy, heart twisting. "Who are you... and what happened to you out here?"
Sir Gaven lifted the boy's fragile body onto his shoulder with care, and they quietly packed their belongings to leave the forest behind.
After nearly two hours of walking, night had fallen, and they found shelter on the lower slope of the mountain. From where they stood, the village was finally in view a speck of light and life in the distance. For the first time in days, there was hope.
They settled beneath a small rocky overhang, just enough to shield them. A fire crackled gently, casting flickers of warmth and light across their tired faces. Gaven had managed to catch a fish along the way, and together they shared bread, warm stew, and quiet relief.
Using one of the castle's travel utensils a small bronze pot Lady Virelle stirred the stew, letting the comforting scent of herbs and broth fill the air.
Freya leaned over, gently guiding a wooden spoon to the boy's lips. Warm liquid touched his mouth, and to their surprise, his pale lips moved. He swallowed weakly, slowly, but with a thread of will. They all stilled, watching him, It was small, fragile… but it was life.
And in that moment, it seemed hope had not abandoned them after all.
That night, as the others slept under the soft glow of the fire, Freya drifted into uneasy dreams. The world around her darkened into shadows, thick and cold, the air pressing down like a warning.
From within the swirling blackness, a figure stepped forward slow, deliberate, almost melting into the dark itself. His presence was quiet, yet overwhelming. Eyes, deep crimson and gleaming like blood-touched stars, locked onto hers. She couldn't move.
Then came the whisper. Not from his mouth, but from all around her. A voice she almost knew.
"You found me once… will you find me again?" She gasped awake, heart racing, eyes wide. The cave was still. Only the fire crackled softly… and beside her, the boy still slept.