Stannon let the silence stretch between them, his eyes unreadable. The waves crashed against the shore, filling the air with the salty scent of the sea, but his mind was focused elsewhere. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, yet edged with warning.
"Destiny or not, you should know that the people I hate the most are the ones who try to manipulate me." His eyes locked onto Melisandre's, unwavering. "If you want to stay by my side, be careful of this. Because I don't spare anyone who tries to play me for a fool."
A flicker of something unreadable passed through Melisandre's eyes. For a woman who always had an answer, always had control of the conversation, she was momentarily silent.
Stannon allowed her the space to think before adding, "You don't have to answer me now. Take your time. When you're ready, tell me your choice. And if you don't want to, you can just leave."
Melisandre's lips parted slightly, but no words came. Instead, she simply nodded once, slow and measured. Then, after a pause, she finally spoke.
"Would you permit me to stay by your side then?"
Stannon didn't hesitate. He gave her a single nod before turning away.
He knew what kind of woman she was—manipulative, secretive, always pushing her own agenda. But her powers were real. And as the future continued to change due to his actions, having someone who could see glimpses of what lay ahead was an undeniable advantage.
They walked back towards the shore, where the ship now blended into the landscape, hidden from any unwanted eyes. His sailors and men stood waiting, their expressions tense. The sight of the Red Woman unsettled them, and their hands hovered near their weapons.
Stannon raised a hand, signaling them to stand down.
"I'll be leaving with my men," Stannon announced. "But the ship stays here, hidden. I need you all on standby. If we need to make a quick escape, I expect you to be ready."
The captain frowned. "My prince, you'd be safer if we sailed somewhere more secure. Staying in one place too long—"
Stannon cut him off with a shake of his head. "I'm not running." His tone was final. "And I'm not taking a ship full of men through the forests of Crackclaw Point. Too much noise, too much attention. We go in small numbers."
The captain's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Aye, my prince. We'll be ready."
The other sailors glanced at each other but didn't argue. They knew better than to question him.
Just then Ragnok spoke,"Are you certain about this, Stormblade?" he asked in a loud voice. His gaze turned to Melisandre. "Taking her with us?"
Stannon smiled slightly. "You afraid of one woman, Ragnok?"
The wilding stiffened. "Of course not."
"Then let's go," Stannon said simply. "We're wasting time."
With that, he turned on his heel and began moving inland, stepping into the thick underbrush of the forest. His men followed in practiced silence, their movements efficient and controlled.
Melisandre walked behind Stannon, her mind full of thoughts. Stannon hadn't told anything about the ambush to his men and just asked them to stay alert instead. She couldn't understand what this prince was planning or whether he was short with brain or if he really didn't care about his life. But she beleived her God and and if the God had selected this young man and she would be a fool to question that.
She just had to believe the prophecy and move on forward even if there is huge pit ahead in the path.
And besides all that she had a feeling that things were not so simple as she saw in the vision either. Moreover she also could have stayed behind with the sailors instead of going with Stannon, but she knew that this was one of Stannon's tests to her about how sure she was of following him and if she stayed behind now, ahe would never be able to walk and guide the man of the prophecy.
She sighed as she observed the forest. The forest was dark, with only a few streaks of setting sunlight slipping through the thick trees.
The group moved quietly, each person taking their usual position.
Thessa, their scout, led the way, her sharp eyes scanning ahead for any danger. She was fast and light on her feet, moving smoothly without making a sound. Right behind her were Hrokk, Stenvar, and Kaelrik—three strong fighters—each gripping their weapons, ready for anything. Colen, the guardian, stayed close to Kaera, the healer, protecting her in case of an attack.
Stannon walked at the center of the group, his mind alert and focused. Behind him was Melisandre, her red robes standing out against the dark surroundings. Ragnok stayed beside her, throwing cautious glances her way, still unsure if he could trust her.
They had traveled deep into the forest when suddenly—
Whoosh!
An arrow shot past Thessa's face, leaving a thin cut on her cheek. She immediately ducked behind a tree for cover.
"Ambush!" she whispered urgently.
As she tried to move back, another arrow flew straight toward her.
Clang!
Stannon was already there. His sword flashed in the dark, knocking the arrow aside just in time.
Then, chaos began.
Arrows rained down from the trees. The group reacted fast—Stannon swung his sword, deflecting every arrow that came near. It's as if he knew about every position of where the arrow would hit him and then he deflected them with ease.
Meanwhile the others rushed to find cover, weapons ready.
Melisandre felt a strong hand pull her back—Ragnok.
"Stay down," he muttered.
The air filled with the sharp sound of bowstrings and arrows cutting through the wind. But soon, the enemy archers stopped firing. A voice called out from the darkness.
"Hold your fire! Move in!"
The sound of footsteps rustled through the trees as the enemy soldiers advanced, forming a circle around Stannon and his group.
The attackers looked rough, wearing mismatched armor and holding different weapons—swords, axes, and spears. Their leader, a tall man with a scarred face, stepped forward.
"You should've run, princeling," he sneered. "You'd still be breathing."
Stannon didn't reply. He simply raised his sword.
And then the fight began.
Hrokk was the first to attack, his axe swinging hard. He crashed into the enemy like a storm, cutting down the first man he reached. Stenvar and Kaelrik followed closely, their swords moving swiftly as they blocked and struck down enemies.
Thessa, though a scout, was deadly with her twin daggers. She moved quickly, slashing throats and cutting legs, making sure the enemy couldn't stand.
Colen stood near Kaera, keeping her safe. When an enemy rushed at her, Colen slammed into him with his massive shield, sending him flying backward.
Ragnok fought beside Stannon, his blade cutting through the enemy lines with brutal force.
And Stannon himself—he was unstoppable. His sword moved fast and deadly, striking down every enemy that came too close. His armor was soon covered in blood, but he didn't slow down.
The enemy thought they had the advantage with their numbers, but they didn't expect the sheer strength of Stannon's group.
Melisandre watched from a safe distance, her eyes fixed on the battle. She could feel something greater at work—destiny unfolding in front of her. Stannon's presence was like a burning light in the darkness, impossible to put out.
More enemies fell. Hrokk crushed a man's skull with his axe. Stenvar took down two opponents in quick moves. Kaelrik with the help of his sword fought with perfect precision, never wasting a strike.
But the enemy still had numbers on their side.
Stannon stood in the middle of it all, his sword slicing through another attacker. His armor was drenched in blood, yet he fought on.
Then—a sudden danger.
An arrow shot toward him. He twisted just in time, as the arrow flew off just a few inches from his face.
Before he could regain balance, something unexpected happened.
One of his own men suddenly lunged at him—his sword aimed straight at Stannon's chest.
Stannon, already in a difficult position after dodging the arrow and fending off attackers, sensed the danger just in time. With a sharp breath, he threw himself sideways, barely avoiding the traitorous strike.
Just as the traitor was about to follow on with another attack an arrow sliced through the air.
Thwack!
The projectile struck the traitor's hand, forcing him to drop his sword with a clatter. Another arrow sliced through the air, hitting the leg of the traitor. The traitor let out a pained grunt, clutching his bleeding hand as he fell to his knees.
But the danger wasn't over.
The enemy soldiers, momentarily stunned by the unexpected betrayal, quickly regained their focus. Seeing Stannon off-balance, two of them stepped forward, swords raised, ready to strike him down while he was vulnerable.
Then—
Slash!
Before their blades could land, their heads suddenly separated from their bodies, rolling to the ground. Blood sprayed into the night air.
The ones who had cut them down were their own allies.
All around, the same scene played out. Enemy fighters standing at the front collapsed one by one—some stabbed through the back, others beheaded instantly. Their own comrades had turned against them.
A heavy silence followed.
Stannon, still steadying himself from his quick dodge, didn't even look at the dead attackers. Instead, he turned toward the wounded traitor.
The man knelt on the ground, holding his injured hand, his face twisted in shock and disbelief. His reaction mirrored that of Stannon's own men, who were frozen, struggling to comprehend what had just happened.
Even Melisandre, who had watched the battle unfold with an eerie sense of calm, found herself momentarily stunned.
The forest, which had been filled with the sounds of battle just moments ago, now felt unnaturally quiet. The only sounds were the ragged breathing of the wounded and the distant rustling of leaves.
Stannon took a slow step forward, his piercing gaze locked onto the kneeling man. He stopped just a bit away, looking down at him in silence.
A long pause stretched between them before Stannon finally spoke.
"Of all the people around me," his voice was calm but carried a weight that made the air feel heavy, "I thought you would be the last one to betray me, Colen."
His words hung in the air like a blade, sharp and unforgiving.
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