***
The train cut through the countryside like a silver blade, its steel body humming in steady rhythm as fields and distant forests blurred past the windows. Sunlight spilled through polished glass, warming the velvet-lined carriage reserved for royalty. Inside, a quiet serenity reigned—at least for now.
Seated by the window was a girl of seventeen, her white hair catching the sunlight with every subtle movement. She watched the world outside with a quiet fascination, as if memorizing freedom itself. Her piercing blue eyes, sharp and observant, reflected not just the passing scenery but the distant dreams she dared not voice aloud.
This was Princess Seraphina Valenrath.
She was no longer within the confines of the palace walls—no gilded throne, no whispering courtiers, no endless political schemes. For the first time in years, she was free. Free to breathe, to explore, to feel the wind on her face without the weight of her crown pressing down on her shoulders.
Across from her sat two bodyguards—discreetly armored beneath tailored coats, their hands always near their concealed weapons. They rarely spoke, their eyes watchful and alert, tuned to every sound and shadow. Next to them, standing upright and dignified, was Edric Halvain, the royal butler.
Edric had served the Valenrath family since before Seraphina was born. His hair was thinning, his back slightly curved from years of service, but his eyes remained sharp—a hawk's gaze that had seen too much to ever relax completely.
He cleared his throat softly, breaking the silence.
"Miss," he said, inclining his head, "may I ask where exactly we are headed?"
Seraphina didn't look away from the window, her voice calm and measured.
"Somewhere that isn't Royalland Palace," she replied softly, a faint smile touching her lips. "Please don't ruin the day, Edric. After years of stone walls and watchful eyes, I finally get a chance to explore. To breathe. To relax."
Edric hesitated, then sighed quietly, a gesture of quiet respect.
"Very well, miss," he said. "As you wish."
The rhythmic clatter of the train wheels against the rails continued, almost soothing in its steady cadence. Outside, the landscape unspooled—rolling fields, distant forests, the occasional farmstead—blurring into one another in a tapestry of green and gold.
Yet, beneath this calm, something shifted.
Far ahead, beyond the comfort of velvet and polished brass, the engine room burned with heat and coal dust. A lone worker shoveled charcoal into the roaring furnace, sweat dripping from his brow as flames licked hungrily at the iron mouth of the engine. The air was thick, loud, alive.
Then—a shadow crossed the doorway.
The worker turned, startled.
"What are you doing here?" he barked. "This area's restricted—"
He never finished the sentence.
The man who stepped inside moved like a strike of lightning. One precise kick. Clean. Brutal.
The worker's body slammed into the metal wall and collapsed to the floor, unconscious before he could even cry out.
The intruder straightened, silent and focused. He wore no uniform, no insignia—just dark clothing, soot-resistant gloves, and eyes that showed neither panic nor pleasure—only purpose.
Without hesitation, he increased the fuel intake. The engine roared louder, flames licking higher as the train began to accelerate.
Back in the royal carriage, Edric stiffened. His trained ear caught it—the subtle change in pitch. The rhythm was no longer even. The hum had sharpened.
He glanced toward the window, then toward the guards.
"Miss," he said carefully, "I believe the speed is… increasing."
Seraphina turned slowly, her blue eyes narrowing.
"That wasn't scheduled," she said.
"No," Edric agreed. "It was not."
The train lurched slightly as it surged forward, the countryside blurring faster now, colors bleeding into one another. Outside, the wind howled through the open windows, and the landscape became a streak of green and brown.
Edric's jaw tightened. His instincts flared.
"With your permission, miss," he said, already stepping forward, "I will go and check with the conductor."
One of the guards shifted, ready to follow.
But before either of them could move, another passenger stood up from the rear of the carriage, unremarkable in appearance. Average height, average build—no one remembered seeing him before. Quiet, unassuming.
In one smooth motion, he drew a knife. The blade caught the light, a flash of steel.
"Sit down, old man," the man said softly, his voice calm, almost bored. "The train is now in our control."
The world seemed to pause.
One of the guards reached for his weapon, but the man with the knife smiled faintly, a faint curl of his lips.
From the adjoining carriage, shouts erupted—then a scream, abruptly cut short.
Seraphina did not scream. She did not rise. She simply studied the man before her, her expression unreadable, her fingers resting lightly on the armrest.
Edric slowly raised his hands, a gesture of surrender.
"You have made a grave mistake," he said quietly.
The man laughed under his breath.
"Everyone says that," he replied. "Before history changes."
The train thundered forward, faster now—unstoppable, relentless. Outside, the world became a blur of colors, wind, and streaks of motion. Inside, a tense silence settled over the carriage, thick with unspoken threats and fragile calm.
Seraphina raised one hand—slowly, deliberately.
"Edric," she said softly, "sit."
The butler hesitated for a fraction of a second, every instinct screaming caution, protection, sacrifice. But obedience was a deeper law.
"As you command, miss," Edric replied, lowering himself back into his seat, spine straight, hands folded calmly in his lap. The two bodyguards followed suit, their eyes burning with restrained violence.
Seraphina leaned back against the velvet seat, her posture relaxed, almost careless.
"They don't know who we are," she murmured, more to herself than to Edric.
The hijacker stepped closer, his smile sharpening as he examined her. Her simple, elegant clothes—no crown, no sigil—only a girl with striking white hair and unsettling blue eyes.
"Noble," he muttered. "I knew it."
He crouched slightly, meeting her gaze.
"Are you from some high family?" he asked. "Because I think we can make a great deal of coin from you, little girl."
One of the guards shifted, hand inching toward his weapon, but the blade twitched in warning.
Seraphina tilted her head, studying him like a puzzle rather than a threat.
"You overestimate how much my life is worth," she said calmly.
The man laughed again.
"All lives are worth something," he replied. "Especially the pretty ones."
The train screamed along the rails, faster and faster—dangerously fast. Outside, streaks of color and wind blurred into one long tunnel of motion. Inside, the air grew thick with fear and anticipation.
And still, Seraphina did not tremble. She simply sat, watching, waiting.
---
**Meanwhile, back at the palace.**
The throne room was silent—but not peaceful.
King Aldric Valenrath stood before a great map table, his hands braced against its polished surface. Candles flickered around him, their flames bending as if sensing the tension in the room.
A knight knelt before the throne, helmet tucked under his arm.
"Your Majesty," the knight said, voice tight, "the royal train has been seized. Speed is beyond safe limits. Conventional interception is impossible."
Aldric remained silent, staring at the map as if weighing the world's fate in his mind.
"Then what do you suggest?" he asked quietly.
The knight hesitated.
"Master… the train is moving too fast. We cannot board it. We cannot stop it. Any attempt by force would kill everyone aboard."
A moment of tense silence.
Then, Aldric straightened, his voice cold and unyielding.
"Contact the Noctyrrs."
The knight's eyes widened.
"Your Majesty… the Crown Assassins have not been deployed openly in—"
"Now," Aldric interrupted, voice steely.
"Only they can move where soldiers cannot. Only they can strike at this speed. Only they can end this without blood on the rails."
The knight bowed his head immediately.
"As you command, my King."
As he rose to leave, the king spoke again—softly, almost to himself.
"Do not fail her."
---
**.**