In the dimly lit hut, the air pressed heavily against Noori as she searched for answers from the girl, whose cryptic words only deepened the unease crawling along her spine.
"Who did it then?" Noori's voice quavered slightly as she leaned forward, eyes locked on Isabell.
the girl's calm reply sent a chill through her. "You don't know them, but they know you very well. You have wronged them, so they are taking their revenge." Her tone was unnervingly steady, almost detached.
Noori's brow furrowed, frustration gnawing at her. "I wronged them? How?" Her mind raced, desperate to untangle the implications hidden in Isabell's words.
"Let's just say you took something precious from them. Think carefully, and you might pin it down quickly," the girl said, her gaze unflinching, unsettling in its intensity.
Noori's chest tightened with irritation. "That… wasn't helpful at all. But thanks for trying," she muttered, disappointment lingering in her voice.
Despite her frustration, curiosity pricked at her. "But… I am curious now," she admitted, her gaze meeting Isabell's piercing stare.
The Girl's next words were like ice sliding down her spine. "About what? I can see everything in your memory—every thought, every moment. But I can't see where you got that scar." She pointed casually at the mark on Noori's chest. "That… makes me curious."
Noori froze, her breath catching, muscles coiling with sudden vulnerability. The flickering candlelight cast shadows that danced across the hut, exaggerating the sense of exposure. Without a word, she rose, voice barely audible. "I… I think I need to leave."
The Girl did not resist. "Hmm, I guess you should. People might be looking for you." Her tone was calm, almost indifferent, as she returned to her meal. "There's a horse in the stables. Follow the stream; it will take you directly to the palace."
Noori hesitated, her hand brushing the doorframe, before turning back once more. "What is your name?" she asked softly.
"Isabell," came the simple reply, unadorned, unyielding.
With a brief nod, Noori stepped out, the weight of Isabell's words lingering like a shadow, following her even as the cold night air embraced her.
Meanwhile, the search for Farris and Dastan stretched beyond all expectations. Farris rode tirelessly along the winding path, each hoofbeat echoing in the still night, his mind heavy with uncertainty. As the trail curved toward the edge of a cliff, jagged rocks jutted out like silent sentinels, warning of peril ahead.
He slowed, scanning the terrain with mounting dread. His gaze fell upon the remnants of a broken wooden door, splintered and discarded—a stark testament to the danger and unpredictability of their journey. The night seemed to hold its breath, as if the world itself was waiting to see which way their fate would turn.
Upon reaching the cliff's edge, Farris's breath caught. Below, darkness yawned like a void, swallowing the rocks and trees in its black maw. A shiver ran down his spine, primal fear clawing at him. "Princess," he whispered, voice nearly lost to the whistling wind. Goosebumps prickled along his arms, a silent reminder of the stakes.
Then, a faint glimmer caught his eye—a pendant, dangling precariously from a jagged plant. Its azure shimmer cut through the shadows, a fragile beacon of hope. Farris's hands trembled as he reached for it, fingers brushing the leather strap with reverence. Clutching it close, tears blurred his vision. Relief, sorrow, and determination tangled inside him, each emotion pressing down with the weight of their perilous mission.
The pounding of hooves shattered the fragile stillness. Farris turned just in time to see Dastan, dust and sweat streaking his face, riding hard along the trail.
"Duke," Dastan called, exhaustion thick in his tone. "The other path—dead end. The carriage couldn't have gone that way."
Farris nodded grimly, but his gaze lingered on the cliff below. "Where is she?" he demanded, voice taut with urgency.
Dastan's eyes darted between the void and the pendant in Farris's hand, confusion flickering across his features. When he reached toward it, Farris snapped back, possessiveness sharp as a blade. "No," he warned, firm and unyielding.
"Where is she?" Dastan pressed again.
Farris rose slowly, his jaw tight. "Where do you think?" His voice cracked with weight, and he pivoted toward his horse. "Send men down the cliff. We don't have much time." He mounted swiftly, urgency driving him onward. Dastan stood frozen, horror etched across his face as he peered into the dark abyss below.
Back at the palace, Farris wasted no time. Orders rang out over the courtyard. "The Crown Princess has been in an accident! Ready the men—we leave immediately!" Soldiers snapped to attention, eyes wide at the sudden command. Farris carefully stowed the pendant in his chest pocket, then checked the horse's reins, every motion precise.
Dastan dismounted, his voice trembling. "What now? What if she—she's dead?"
Farris's eyes blazed. He seized Dastan by the collar, pulling him close. "You better pray she isn't dead, Your Highness," he growled, the edge in his tone sharp enough to cut through the night. Dastan felt the chill of raw emotion sweep over him, fear mingling with awe.
"Your Highness," a guard interjected cautiously, voice hesitant against Farris's fury. "Most soldiers are stationed at the banquet hall. There aren't many left at the palace."
Before tension could thicken further, a horse's neigh echoed across the courtyard. Crystal lamps flickered along the path as a figure emerged. Noori rode in on a raven-black steed, her red hair catching the light, dark eyes burning with unspoken fire. The courtyard fell silent. Relief, shock, and joy collided in a single heartbeat. She was here. Alive.
The moment Farris's eyes landed on her, the tension in his body melted away. His grip on Dastan's collar loosened, and he stepped forward, every movement radiating relief and quiet urgency. Noori's gaze followed him, wide and uncertain, as she slowly dismounted her horse. She barely had time to register what was happening before Farris closed the distance between them.
"Where did you disappear to?" His voice cracked with raw emotion, the weight of worry and fear breaking through every word. Dastan's eyes narrowed as he watched, a mix of shock and possessiveness tightening his chest. He tensed, instinctively stepping forward, ready to intervene, but what he saw froze him in place.
Farris swept Noori into a sudden, desperate hug, holding her as if he might never let go. The sudden display drew sharp intakes of breath from those nearby, a collective gasp that seemed to hang in the air.
"You're okay," Farris exhaled, shoulders trembling as he clutched her. "I thought I'd never see you again."
Noori's lips pressed into a thin line. "I am okay. You can let go now," she said, her voice firm, teeth gently biting her words. Farris's arms slowly released her, though his eyes remained fixed on hers, filled with lingering worry.
"I thought I—" he began, but Noori cut him off with a quick gesture toward Dastan, who was approaching with a burning intensity in his gaze. "Your Highness," she said carefully, "people might misinterpret those words… especially someone like him."
Farris's expression shifted, a flicker of understanding and caution crossing his features as he glanced at Dastan.