The afternoon light was slanting through the tall windows when Madeleine realized she had not seen Rogue since morning.
At first, she thought little of it. The boy had a habit of slipping from lessons and hiding in strange corners. She checked the kitchens, expecting to find him snatching sweetbread. Empty. She checked the courtyard, where he often watched the guards drill. No sign of him.
Her frown deepened. She called his name through the corridors, voice sharp enough to make maids scatter. No answer.
When she hurried to the solar to ask Baroness Céleste if the boy had been with her, the lady only shook her head, pale with worry. "Not since breakfast."
Madeleine's heart began to pound. She did not wait for permission; she turned and swept through the halls, her skirts whipping at her ankles as she barked at every servant she passed.
"Find him. Now. Search every chamber. Every stairwell. Every damned barrel if you must!"
Within the hour, the entire keep stirred like an anthill. Servants combed cellars, guards tore through unused storage rooms, even the chapel was overturned. Yet Rogue was nowhere to be found.
By the time Captain Guillaume de Braye strode into the hall, face thunderous, panic had already begun to gnaw at the household.
"You let him slip past you?" he roared at a pair of young squires. "He's a boy, not a ghost!"
One stammered, "We—we thought he was in the chapel, Captain—"
Guillaume's gauntleted fist struck the wall hard enough to leave a dent. "Thinking will not find him. Move!"
The order carried through the keep like a lash.
By midafternoon, Baron Henri himself was summoned from council. He entered the great hall in a storm of fury, red cloak snapping behind him.
"Explain to me," he growled, his voice filling the vaulted chamber, "how a child under my roof vanishes without a trace!"
Madeleine bowed low, trembling but defiant. "My lord, we have searched—"
"Not well enough!" Henri thundered. His eyes, dark and blazing, swept the room. "If my son is not found, I swear by the Sun God, I will hang the lot of you from the walls!"
The hall fell silent but for the crackle of torches. No one doubted he meant it.
Guillaume stepped forward, saluting stiffly. "My lord, the gates are sealed. If he slipped beyond the walls, he did so before midday. We've men searching the fields already. If he's out there, we'll find him."
Henri's jaw worked. He turned sharply to the nearest priest, a thin man with hollow eyes and golden sunburst embroidered upon his robe. "Send word to the Church. Tell them my son is missing. Tell them to bring every hunter and priest they can muster."
The priest paled but bowed. "At once, my lord."
By dusk, riders bearing the Sun God's sigil thundered through the gates. The courtyard flared with torchlight as priests dismounted, their presence casting a hush across the keep. With them came a handful of hunters — not Witch Hunters, but grim men in boiled leather and steel, each marked with the white gloves of their order.
The arrival of the Church turned whispers into fear. The boy was no longer merely a baron's heir; he was their miracle child, touched by Light Origin itself. His loss was a matter of faith.
Madeleine clasped her hands tightly as the priests prayed aloud, their voices low but urgent. The words tasted of desperation, like salt on an open wound.
One of the hunters, a broad-shouldered man with a scar across his cheek, pulled Guillaume aside. His voice was rough, yet edged with respect. "If the boy carries Light Origin, the shadows will seek him. We must move fast."
Guillaume's face darkened. "You think something's taken him?"
"I think," the hunter said grimly, "that the forest beyond your walls is not empty. No child should walk there alone."
The search parties spread by torchlight, scouring the meadows that stretched between the keep and the looming tree line.
Servants clutched lanterns as they stumbled through the grass, calling Rogue's name until their voices cracked. Guards swept fields in tight formations, blades bared though there was no foe in sight. Priests traced symbols of light into the air, muttering invocations meant to ward away shadow.
The hunters moved quieter than the rest, their eyes fixed on the dark fringe of the forest. Each step nearer filled them with unease.
No birds sang. No crickets chirped. The world seemed to hold its breath.
"Here!" a servant shouted suddenly, holding up a small scrap of red cloth. It was torn, caught on a low branch at the edge of the woods.
Madeleine's knees nearly gave. She snatched the cloth from the man's hands, clutching it to her chest. She recognized it — Rogue's tunic.
The news spread fast, carrying like fire through dry grass. Soon all eyes turned to the forest.
Henri himself rode forward, torch held high. His face was carved from stone, but his eyes burned. "He went in," he said flatly. "The fool boy went into the trees."
Guillaume frowned, voice low. "My lord, the forest is cursed. No man goes deep and returns the same."
"Then we shall go deeper," Henri growled. "Raise every torch, every sword. We will find him."
The priests exchanged uneasy looks. One older cleric whispered, "If shadows drew him there, we may not be chasing a boy. We may be chasing bait."
But Henri did not flinch. He spurred his horse forward, and the searchers followed.
The forest swallowed them quickly.
Torches sputtered against the damp air. Shadows danced across the trunks, their movements tricking the eye. Roots curled like serpents across the ground, forcing men to stumble. The silence pressed close, broken only by the crack of branches underfoot.
Madeleine clutched her lantern, whispering prayers under her breath. Around her, guards muttered curses, trying to mask their fear.
Guillaume walked at the front, sword drawn, every muscle tense. The hunters flanked him, their eyes darting into the blackness.
The priests trailed behind, weaving signs of light that glimmered faintly before fading, as though the forest drank the glow.
Deeper they went, until the torches seemed swallowed by the dark.
And somewhere ahead, faint and fleeting, came the sound of laughter.
It was high and playful. The laughter of a child.
The search party froze, hearts hammering.
Madeleine's face drained of color. She whispered only one word. "Rogue…"