Albedo didn't remember much of the journey back to the city, with only fragments of that journey staying with him, like the way the wind cut against his face as he moved back through the forest, and the distant alarm bells ringing as the Northern sentries finally realized something catastrophic had occurred.
The faint, uneven rise and fall of Lilian's chest against his own as he carried her without ever loosening his grip. His mana was a hollowed-out thing, scraped raw and barely responsive, but his body kept moving through stubborn will alone. Every step was guided by a single, unyielding thought.
'Get her somewhere safe.'
By the time he reached his residence, the sky had begun to pale at the edges, dawn creeping in hesitantly as if uncertain whether the world it was lighting still deserved it. Guards took one look at him, bloodstained, eyes dulled with exhaustion, carrying the unconscious Heiress of BloodHaven, and moved without questions.
