The city of Worthstad was lit by street lanterns and bar lights, its citizens gathered loosely around taverns, drinking without a care. They paid no mind to the ground trembling beneath them, nor to the noise echoing through the night.
They couldn't care less about anything beyond their booze, and maybe that was for the best.
Because with the streets empty, Darla tore past. Running at the top of her lungs, straining beneath the weight of all three riders on her back.
Stephen could barely lift his head as she thundered through the night. The adrenaline that had carried him this far was fading, and with it came the full pain of puncture wounds in his chest and the searing agony in his arm.
"Where are you planning on going, Stephen?" the system muttered, trying to keep him awake. "Talk to me."
"There's a clinic by Baxia's way." Stephen mumbled, eyes droopy as Darla made the turn, as if now headed to where he just said.
"Good." The system responded. "Uhh... quick, tell me the unit of pi."
"Pi... has no units," Stephen groaned as Darla vaulted over a low barrier, the impact rattling his body. "It's... a ratio."
"True..." the system rambled. "Then tell me the number. All of it."
"It's... near infinite," Stephen mumbled, his words dragging. "Can't... say all that."
"That's true... tell me the ones you do know then!" the system pressed.
Stephen swallowed, realizing why it mattered, forcing his mind to grind forward.
"Three... one... four—"
Darla tore through another street, her breaths rough, legs quivering under strain. She was running on exhausted fumes, but the clinic was finally in sight.
"Stephen, we're here!" the system screamed.
"Five... three... five..." Stephen lifted his head weakly. "Oh..."
"Yes, if you can get to the entrance they'll hopefully be some nurses out there to help..." the system's voice trailed off as the front of the clinic came into view.
It was littered with Royal guards, all standing by to the entrance. And as Darla approached, they walked forward. Each more skeptical than the other.
"Royal guards, Stephen." The system said.
"Crap..." he muttered. "one of them... might recognize me..."
"Wait... that's good right? It means they'll take care of you. Regardless of whether you'll heal eventually, getting to a safer place right now is for the best!"
"What about them..." he motioned towards Tello and Gila.
The system sighed. "Stephen..."
"Darla... turn." Stephen tried to rise, his voice hoarse.
"Wait... Stephen. It's been an hour, and your health hasn't gone up at all." The system said. "Something's wrong and I think it's because of that armament."
"Darla..."
"You're at risk, Stephen. Put yourself first for fuck's sake!"
"Darla!"
The horse slammed its hooves into the dirt, slowing hard as the royal guards drew nearer. When it finally stopped, Darla snapped her head toward Stephen, her eyes locked on him as if demanding an answer, questioning his choice.
"You on the horse there!" one of the guards shouted. "Are you hurt?"
"They'll probably take care of them too, no?" the system said, almost like he was trying to convince himself as much as Stephen. "Tello might be a known fugitive, but it's not as if they'll throw him to die."
"Do you know that for a fact?" Stephen rasped.
The system fell silent and Stephen tugged at the reins again.
"Turn, Darla..."
But the horse didn't move. Her body stood stiff, as if she couldn't understand why Stephen would make such a choice, why he'd willingly throw away the chance at safety.
"Please, Darla." His words were nearly lost in the night air. "Get us out of here."
One of the guards stepped forward, close enough now that his gauntlet reached for the reins. Through the slit of his helmet, he caught sight of the blood dripping from Gila's wounds, spattering across the horse's coat.
"You're injured, get down!" he barked as he moved closer, his hand tugging at the reins to pull Stephen off.
And then he saw him.
In real time, his mind processed the golden hair, the flawless skin, the sharpened blue eyes. His body froze, realization striking him faster than lightning ever could.
"Your... highness," he whispered, shock in his eyes.
"Your Highness?" the men behind him echoed in disbelief. "Wait... is that the missing prince?"
"Darla!" Stephen shouted.
The horse turned instantly, hooves clattering as she dashed forward.
One of the guards lunged, catching hold of her saddle. Darla whipped her head and surged forward, muscles snapping like a bowstring. With a violent kick of her hind legs, she struck him square in the chest. Sending him crashing to the ground as she thundered away.
She tore into the night, hooves pounding, guards chasing on foot and horseback.
Still, she ran until the shouts fell behind, until the streets became a blur, until she'd lost not only her pursuer's, but also any sense of where she was going.
They weren't any more lights around, just bushes and cold air. Darla could barely feel her muscles now, everything felt sore to the point it felt like they'd fall off if she took another step. But even still... she kept running.
She'd probably been running for about eighty miles now, all the way from Worthstad, Harksvell. To wherever the hell this was.
She took a few steps forward, her legs wobbling, in a few more steps she'd fall. And Stephen and the others would be left to die.
She glanced back. Her eyes meeting a barely awake Stephen, almost unconscious, yet stubbornly holding on. He reminded her of someone else. Someone she had loved once.
That man had hair just as blonde and eyes just as blue. But his skin had been pale, his body fragile. He loved horses with an irrational passion... maybe even loved her, though she never understood why. Even when he was meant to be bound to hospital beds, he insisted on riding the track with her.
She couldn't understand it, and she always wanted to. She always wanted to hear him say it, to explain why he'd loved her so much. Why he didn't focus on getting better.
And before she ever could, he was gone.
Now she saw him again. In Stephen. That same reckless affection for something beyond himself. That same disregard for his own wellbeing.
Was that why she clung so tightly to him? Because she missed her first rider? Or because she thought Stephen might give her the answer the other never could?
Or maybe none of that mattered, and she simply wanted to save him. To do something she never had the chance to before.
Darla neighed, her mane bouncing as she shook herself awake, steeling her legs and continuing to move.
There was a light in the distance. Not city lights or anything big, it was just a lone fire flickering in the dark. It might've been a firefly. It might've been her imagination. But until she reached it... she couldn't stop.
So she ran.
And ran.
And ran.
Until her horseshoes split and her hooves cracked. Until her muscles screamed and her lungs seized. Until there was nothing left but that light at the end of the dark.
And when she finally reached it, her body gave out. She collapsed, her head slamming against the ground as everyone tumbled from her back.
She wanted to rise again, to carry them further, to make sure she'd gotten them to safety. But this... this was all she could give.
Through her fading vision, she caught the blur of legs rushing past, to someone bending over Gila, Tello, then Stephen.
A soft neigh slipped out of her throat. Whoever that was... maybe they would help.
She could only hope.
And with that last prayer, the horse drifted into sleep.