Prince Dimiour races through the trees, branches clawing at his arms as he pushes deeper into the woods.
His breath comes fast, he doesn't know how far he's gone, he doesn't stop to check.
In the shadows, their yellow eyes follow his every step. Low to the ground, small shapes hunched in the undergrowth, waiting…until he stumbled right into their waiting claws.
They hit him all at once. Small, fast, and cruel. Crelins—larger, more aggressive than any tarsier had any right to be.
One latched onto his arm, its teeth ripping through his skin and muscle until blood ran warm down its chin.
Another lunged at his leg, jerking hard and dragging him to the ground.
The air ripped from his lungs in a broken gasp as he hit the dirt hard, the taste of earth filling his mouth.
His vision blurred and doubled with every jolt, his head smashing against the ground, His cheek raked across the earth, flesh peeling back with every brutal drag.
The cliff waited. It was time for him to pay for invading their territory.
The Crelins had only one goal: to watch him break apart on the rocks below.
Just when nothing remained but disoriented thoughts of regret—
—the air split open with a scream.
Not a cry. Not a word.
Just a raw, ragged roar that shook the trees and sent birds scattering into the sky.
Every head snapped toward the sound, eyes wide with surprise.
She lunged forward, young but deadly, red hair wild around her freckled face.
Rose crashed into the first tarsier with bone-breaking force.
Her dagger plunged into its eye, and she twisted hard as she landed.
Crack.
The tarsier crumpled, its head snapping clean around, her blade still lodged deep in its skull.
Rose ripped the sword from its corpse and hurled herself at the next tarsier, deflecting its blade with her own.
She bared her teeth as steel punched through her shoulder.
Pain fueled the rage already burning inside her. A light glow shimmered beneath her chest, as if answering that fury.
Her next motion ended in a bone-splitting snap as the stolen blade rammed into its skull.
Another arrow punched through Rose's forearm, driving deep into bone.
She stumbled, but only for a breath.
Below her skin, a radiant crimson flares for a single fleeting—visible heartbeat. Rose barely noticed it— she had felt this fire before, a dangerous reminder of something she didn't fully understand.
Her eyes snapped to the archer, his shaking hands fumbling for another arrow.
With a raw breath, she whipped the blade forward with bone-snapping force.
Splat.
The blade split the goblin's skull, painting the rocks behind it red.
The last goblin tries to flee.
Too slow. Too close.
She caught it by the throat mid-step and hurled it over the cliff without a second glance
She looks down to find the mangled prince struggling to stand, with no hesitation she wraps his arm around her shoulder and begins limping back toward the tree line.
High above the castle, the Archmage's tower stood quiet.
Evandriel hovered over the scrying crystal, her hand steady, her breath held.
The image on the surface was slow to form, rippling like dark water, Shapes shifting into focus. Two figures slumped against the castle wall.
She leaned in closer. The candlelight flickered behind her.
"Dimiour.
Alive…
And Rose…" before she finished that thought
Evandriel's hand trembled as she traced the edge of the crystal. She didn't speak. She didn't move.
The air around her pulled tight, silent and heavy.
With a breath, she vanished from the tower.
Gone without a sound.