Chapter 15: A Promise in the Storm
Emptiness was the cold stone beneath her bare feet. Emptiness was the thin, stale air in the narrow servant's quarters. Emptiness was the echo that spun relentlessly in Shapira's mind, the nobles' jeers, their scornful gazes, and worst of all, Prince William's deafening silence. His rigid back as he walked away, without a word, without a single glance, had carved a deeper wound than any sword.
Every breath felt like swallowing shards of glass. She was a foreigner, an intruder, an unworthy servant. The court official's words, "Look, the servant is not even worthy of a prince's attention," played on a loop, a cruel melody accompanying her broken heartbeat.
Love? Hope? It all tasted like ash in her mouth. The world she had been thrown into was no fairy tale, but a gilded cage whose bars were status and tradition. And she, Shapira Elanora of London, was just a bird with a broken wing, with no place inside it.
The thought hardened into a cold, sharp decision. Enough. She would no longer be a burden, no longer a source of scandal for William, and no longer allow her heart to be trampled. There was one way out, the only way she knew, back. Back through the door that brought her here. She had to find it.
That night, as the moon hung pale as a skull in the Nymiran sky and the palace of Astellia had sunk into a heavy silence, Shapira moved. She carried nothing but the clothes on her back and the devastation that cloaked her soul. With steps as light as a breath, she slipped out of her room. The familiar stone corridors now felt alien and menacing, shadows dancing like ghosts of a past she never had. Every creak of a distant guard's boot made her heart stop. She held her breath, pressing herself into a cold alcove in the wall, waiting until the footsteps faded.
Finally, she reached the seldom-guarded back gate. The cold night air hit her at once, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth from the Nymira Forest. Without hesitation, she stepped into the dense darkness that seemed to swallow her whole. The forest was where the door had vanished. The forest was where she would find her way home.
*
The Nymira Forest at night was a different creature. By day, it was a living tapestry of green, alive with birdsong and dancing sunlight. But under the shroud of darkness, it transformed into a black labyrinth of whispers and unseen threats. Sharp branches clawed at Shapira's skin, and protruding tree roots seemed to intentionally snare her feet. She had no sense of direction, only walking on, guided by desperation and a faint glimmer of hope of finding her wooden portal again.
"Where are you?" she whispered to the wind, her voice hoarse and trembling. "I have to go home."
The forest answered only with the rustle of leaves that sounded like mockery. Fear began to creep up her spine, cold and clammy. She was lost. Alone.
Suddenly, the rustling changed to a low growl that made the hair on her neck stand up. From behind a thick bush, a pair of glowing red eyes appeared, followed by another pair, and another. A foul stench like rotten meat and damp earth filled the air. A pack of Orcs, with rough, pale-green skin and yellowed tusks jutting from their lower jaws, stepped out of the darkness. Their weapons, spiked wooden clubs and rusted swords, were aimed at her.
Shapira froze, a scream caught in her throat. She took a step back, then another, until her back hit the coarse trunk of a tree. There was no escape.
One of the Orcs laughed, its raspy voice scraping the night's silence. "Look what we have here. Fresh meat."
As the lead Orc lunged, Shapira squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for a horrific end. But before the club could hit her, the terrible situation devolved into an even darker nightmare. From the depths of the forest, from the shadows between the trees, a new, deeper, and more savage growl was heard. Countless golden-yellow eyes ignited in the darkness, surrounding them. The creatures moved with blurring speed, their silhouettes sleek and vicious like wolves, but far larger, with claws that gleamed in the moonlight.
The Orcs stopped, growling nervously at the new threat. They were trapped, and Shapira was right in the middle. One of the shadow creatures howled, a soul-piercing sound, and the battle erupted. But they weren't just attacking the Orcs, their hungry gazes were also fixed on her. She was no longer the prey of one predator, but a prize to be fought over in a death arena.
A sharp claw managed to slash her arm as she dodged. The burning pain made her cry out. Pinned against the tree, with Orcs on one side and savage beasts on the other, Shapira knew it was the end. She was going to die in this foreign world, alone and forgotten.
Just as an Orc raised its sword for a final blow, a silver flash split the air. The clang of metal on flesh was heard, followed by a horrific shriek of pain. The Orc collapsed to the ground, its sword falling from its grasp.
Before her stood a familiar silhouette. Prince William.
He was breathing heavily, his sword dripping with the black blood of the Orcs. His eyes blazed with a searing fury, directed not at Shapira, but at the creatures threatening her. Without a word, he turned and cut down a lunging shadow beast. His movements were swift, efficient, and lethal. It was the dance of a warrior who had spent the last two decades forged by war and grief. He was no longer a helpless fifteen-year-old prince, he was a storm of steel and fury.
One by one, the Orcs and shadow creatures fell or fled back into the darkness. In moments, the forest fell silent again, leaving only the sound of William's heavy breathing and Shapira's stifled sobs.
He turned to face her, his chest heaving. His face was streaked with dirt and blood, but his eyes were fixed only on Shapira, filled with a storm of emotions she couldn't read.
Shapira stared at him, her lips trembling. "William?" she asked. "How … how did you know I was here?"
*
William sheathed his sword, the sound of metal scraping into its scabbard deafening in the post-battle silence. He stepped closer, each movement heavy. The regret on his face was palpable, overpowering the fury that had burned there moments before.
"I … I'm sorry, Shapira," his voice was hoarse, thick with a piercing guilt. "I should never have let you leave the hall like that. I should never have been silent."
He stopped a few feet from her, his hands clenched at his sides.
"I saw you," he continued, his eyes not daring to meet hers. "I saw you standing outside the doors after I left. I saw the devastation in your eyes, and I … I did nothing. I was a coward."
Shapira could only shake her head, still too stunned to speak. "But … how did you find me?"
"After I left you, this guilt … it felt like a fire burning from within," William confessed, finally raising his gaze. In the moonlight, Shapira could see the tracks of tears on his cheeks. "I couldn't just leave you alone. I ordered my most trusted guard to watch you from a distance, to make sure you were safe. When he reported you had run into the forest, I came at once."
Shapira's heart tightened. So, she hadn't been completely abandoned. She was being watched over. Protected, even when she had felt her most alone.
"They insulted you," William whispered, his voice breaking. "Those nobles, they belittled you. And I just stood there. Silent. Like before." His eyes grew distant, as if seeing ghosts from twenty years ago. "When Anya … when she needed me, I wasn't strong enough either. I will not let history repeat itself, Shapira. I will not fail to protect you, too."
Finally, the distance between them seemed to collapse. William stepped forward and, with a hesitant yet longing gesture, he took Shapira's hand. His hands, rough and calloused from wielding a sword, felt warm and real around her cold fingers.
"I don't care what they say," he said earnestly, his gaze locking with hers, demanding to be believed. "I don't care about status, tradition, or what they deem proper. All I know is what my heart tells me."
He took a deep breath, as if gathering all the courage left in the world.
"I love you, Shapira," he said, each word spoken with a raw, undeniable honesty. "Not as a shadow of Anya. Not as a mystery from another world. I love you. You. Your courage, your resilience, even your stubbornness."
The tears Shapira had been holding back finally streamed down her face. Not tears of sorrow, but of overwhelming relief. The weight that had been pressing on her shoulders seemed to lift.
"I promise," William continued, his voice becoming an oath, sworn under the gaze of the moon and the ancient trees. "From this night on, I will always be by your side. I will fight the council, fight the nobles, even fight my own father if I have to. I will never leave you alone again. I will protect you, no matter the cost."
Shapira looked at him, seeing the prince who had been broken by the past now standing as a king in his own heart, making a promise that would change their destiny. She knew the road ahead would be steep and full of thorns. The political storm in the palace had not subsided. But for the first time, she didn't feel like she was facing it alone. Here, in the heart of a dangerous forest, amidst the smell of blood and death, their love found its firmest footing. She nodded slowly, tears still staining her cheeks.
"I believe you," she whispered.
William smiled, the first smile that had truly reached his eyes since Shapira arrived in this world. A smile full of hope. He lifted her hand to his lips and gently kissed her knuckles. The moment felt sacred, an unspoken pact made in the Nymiran wilderness.
But as his lips touched her skin, a cold wind suddenly blew past them, carrying a whisper that did not come from the leaves. The voice was ancient, raspy, and filled with a frozen malice.
"A Prince's promise …," the voice hissed from nowhere, seeming to come from every shadow around them. "…is always bound by the blood that will be spilled."
William and Shapira froze instantly. They looked at each other, the smiles and hope on their faces vanishing, replaced by a new, unexpected horror. The storm they had just promised to face together was far greater and darker than they had ever imagined.