Maria's PoV
We ran.
Through burning forest. Through smoke that choked lungs and stung eyes. Through hell made manifest.
Behind us, the wyvern's roar split the night. Then came the sound I'd been dreading—the deep, rumbling inhale before flames.
"DOWN!" Garrett yanked me sideways.
Fire erupted where we'd been standing. Trees exploded into torches. The air itself ignited, stealing oxygen, making every breath feel like swallowing hot coals.
We scrambled to our feet and kept moving.
The forest had become a maze of flame and shadow. Tareh rode his wyvern overhead, circling like a bird of prey, setting fire to everything in our path.
Funneling us. Herding us.
"He's driving us somewhere," Garrett growled. "Trying to box us in."
"The border," I gasped. "If we can just reach the border—"
"That's twenty miles!"
"Then we run twenty miles!"
My lungs burned. My legs screamed. But fear kept me moving. Fear of what waited if we stopped.
Through the smoke ahead—a break in the trees. Open ground.
We burst through into a small clearing.
And found ourselves facing a squad of soldiers.
Eight of them. Armored. Armed. Spread in a semicircle that blocked our path forward.
"There!" one shouted. "The murderer and his whore!"
Garrett pushed me behind him. His hand went to his belt—
His axe was gone. Left in the dungeon when we'd fled.
But his hands... his hands were weapons enough.
The soldiers charged.
***
Garrett moved like violence given form.
The first soldier swung his sword. Garrett caught the blade bare-handed—the edge bit into his palm but he didn't flinch. Just twisted, snapping the steel, and drove the broken blade into its wielder's throat.
The second soldier died before he could scream. Garrett's fist caved in his helmet, and the man inside it.
A spear thrust toward his chest. Garrett sidestepped, grabbed the shaft, pulled. The soldier stumbled forward. Garrett's elbow met his face. Bone crunched.
Three down in as many seconds.
The remaining five hesitated. Fear replacing confidence in their eyes.
"He's unarmed!" their leader shouted. "Just a man! ATTACK!"
They came together this time. Coordinated. Professional.
A sword opened a gash across Garrett's shoulder. He grunted but didn't slow. Grabbed the swordsman's wrist, twisted until something snapped, then used the screaming man as a shield against the others.
Spears pierced the human shield. Garrett threw the body at them. Two went down under the weight.
The leader managed to slash Garrett's side. Blood poured hot and red.
Garrett's hand closed around the man's throat. Lifted him off the ground. Squeezed.
The leader's face went purple. His feet kicked uselessly. His sword clattered from nerveless fingers.
The sound of his neck breaking was like dry wood snapping.
Garrett dropped the corpse and turned to the last two soldiers.
They ran.
He let them go. We had bigger problems.
***
"You're hurt," I said, moving to examine his wounds.
"I'm fine." He was already scanning the forest. "We need to keep—"
The whistle of something cutting air.
I saw it before he did. Saw the arrow arcing through smoke-filled sky. Saw its trajectory. Saw where it would land.
My body moved before my mind caught up.
I stepped in front of Garrett.
The arrow struck my chest.
Pain exploded—white hot, blinding. I gasped, stumbling backward.
Garrett caught me. His arms wrapped around me, lowering me carefully to the ground.
"Maria!" His voice cracked. "Maria, no—"
I looked down. The arrow jutted from just below my collarbone. Blood spread across my dress in a growing stain.
But I was breathing. Still conscious. The pain was sharp but... manageable?
"I'm—" I coughed. "I'm okay. I think it missed anything vital."
Garrett's face was a mask of horror. His hands hovered over the arrow, wanting to help but afraid to make it worse.
"Why?" The word came out strangled. "Why did you—"
"Because." I grabbed his hand. Squeezed. "I can't see you get hurt anymore."
The sound of wings. Heavy. Getting closer.
We both looked up.
The wyvern descended through smoke and flame, landing with earth-shaking force twenty paces away. Tareh sat astride it, yellow eyes gleaming with predatory satisfaction.
He clicked his tongue. "Tch. The arrow was wasted. The Count will probably be angry with me."
"What was it?" Garrett's voice was flat. Dangerous. He didn't look at Tareh. His eyes stayed fixed on the arrow in my chest.
"Oh that!" Tareh laughed. "A simple cursed arrow. Anyone struck with it would feel hell of pain if they try using their mana. The Count has some interesting taste in torture."
"Don't use your mana," Garrett said to me. "No matter what. Understand?"
I nodded weakly.
"Leave me." The words came out barely above a whisper. "Run away. You can still—"
"Wait."
Just that one word. Quiet. Certain.
Tareh dismounted, moving closer with casual confidence. "I planned to put that into you, and the woman wouldn't have been trouble either. Now I guess..." He smiled. "I might have to kill you and take her to him."
He stopped a few paces away. "Or... I could just have some fun first and then burn her. I only need her head and yours to make him happy."
The smile widened. "Maybe I'll enjoy her while you watch. Make sure you really—"
Garrett moved.
One second he was kneeling beside me. The next, his fist connected with Tareh's face.
The sound was like a tree splitting. Teeth scattered like thrown dice. Blood sprayed.
Tareh flew backward—actually flew, lifted off his feet, body ragdolling through the air. He crashed into a tree trunk hard enough to crack the wood.
The wyvern shrieked and lunged at Garrett.
Massive jaws opened wide, flames building in its throat—
Garrett's hands caught the upper and lower jaw.
Muscles bulged. Veins stood out like cords. Blood from his wounds ran down his arms.
The wyvern thrashed. Tried to pull free. Tried to breathe fire.
Garrett's grip tightened.
Then he twisted.
The sound—gods, the sound. Like green wood being torn apart. Wet and crunching and terrible.
The wyvern's jaw ripped away from its skull.
The creature's shriek cut off mid-note. Its body convulsed once, twice, then went still.
Garrett dropped the massive corpse like discarded refuse.
In the bushes, I saw movement. Soldiers who'd been lying in wait, planning an ambush.
They stared at what they'd just witnessed. At the man who'd torn apart a wyvern with bare hands.
One of them pissed himself. The stain spread dark across his trousers.
They ran.
Stumbling. Falling. Scrambling over each other in their panic to escape.
Garrett paid them no attention. Just moved back to me, kneeling, lifting me carefully into his arms.
"Hold on," he said. "Just hold on."
"Where..." I coughed. Blood flecked my lips. "Where are we going?"
"Away." His jaw was set. "Far away from this cursed place. Somewhere they'll never find us."
He stood, cradling me against his chest like I weighed nothing.
Then he started walking.
Not running. Just moving with steady, purposeful strides. Through the burning forest. Through the smoke. Through the chaos.
Behind us, I heard more shouts. More bells. The entire county mobilizing.
But Garrett didn't look back.
He just walked.
And walked.
And walked.
Until the sounds faded. Until the smoke cleared. Until the border—that invisible line separating one county from another—passed beneath his feet.
Until we vanished from Count Haroth's territory forever.
I pressed my face against his chest, feeling his heartbeat—steady, strong, unshakeable.
"Thank you," I whispered.
He didn't respond. Just held me tighter and kept walking into the darkness.
Into freedom.
Into whatever future we could build together.
Away from everything that had tried to destroy us.
Finally, truly, gone.
***