The world was divided into two continents — the Northern Realm and the Southern Expanse. Though separated by the vast Valethryn Ocean, the two continents maintained friendly diplomatic ties. But peace within each continent told a different story.
The Southern Expanse was united under a single sovereign: the Duskforge Empire. In contrast, the Northern Realm was split between two rival empires — Yiorgos and Ulrik. Their enmity ran so deep that even common folk rarely dared cross the border. For many, a return journey was a gamble with death. If someone from the opposing empire was discovered, they were hunted down without mercy.
For a knight to cross into enemy territory without the King's sanction was virtually unheard of — and yet, Rayan had no choice.
Corruption marred every system somewhere.
With forged documents and disguised identities, Rayan and his men had entered Ulrik posing as merchants, slipping past the scrutiny of Yiorgos and Ulrik soldiers. Once inside, they were entirely on their own.
Two months had passed since they entered Ulrik.
Now, it was finally time to return.
Before approaching the capital city's grand exit gates, the knights concealed their identities beneath cloaks. So far, they had kept to forests and unpatrolled paths, but the only exit route lay through the heavily guarded city.
Aria followed their lead, draping the cloak Rayan had arranged for her during their brief stay at an inn. Confused by the secrecy, she said nothing, sensing the gravity of the moment.
Concealed from head to toe, the five knights and Aria made their way toward the gate. Maxim stepped forward and handed forged travel documents to a stern-looking soldier.
The soldier took the documents, visibly surprised.
It wasn't unusual to see some brave travelers heading into Ulrik, but returning merchants? That was rare.
He narrowed his eyes, scanning the papers, then gestured toward a nearby inspection area.
"Uncover your faces. Then step inside for proper inspection — both you and your goods."
The knights exchanged glances. Magnus stepped forward first, offering a friendly smile. With practiced ease, he loosened the veil around his face and addressed the soldier calmly.
"Is there any reason for alarm, good sir? No one paid our faces much mind when we first entered the city."
The soldier grumbled and moved to inspect Linus.
"Some patrols sent word. They claim a knight from Yiorgos slipped into Ulrik without royal leave."
Then he scoffed, muttering, "As if those cowards from Yiorgos would dare such a feat."
Linus met the man's gaze with quiet fire before Lenn pulled him back and stepped in to take his place.
"You speak our tongue with ease," the soldier remarked to Magnus.
"I've long had an ear for it," Magnus said, touching a hand to his chest with a respectful nod. "It's a fine language, and my memory holds it well."
He continued, chuckling lightly. "A knight crossing enemy lines unnoticed — now there's a tale worth drinking to."
The soldier nodded in agreement, loosening a little.
"That's what I said," he grumbled. "They claim the knight is traveling with a red-haired beauty — one who clearly isn't from Yiorgos…"
He didn't finish. Because in front of him getting checked was Aria who unveiled her face just liked other knights. A single red curl fell loose from her hood.
His eyes locked on the curl. His hand went to his sword.
"Guards!"
He lunged — but Maxim was quicker. In one brutal slash, the soldier's throat opened, and he crumpled to the ground.
Blood sprayed across Aria's face. She stood still, unmoving, her gaze fixed on the dead man. Her lips parted but no scream came.
Maxim shoved her behind him as more soldiers rushed in. The calm of the capital gates shattered. Steel clashed against steel. Screams echoed. Blood drenched the ground.
The once soft-spoken knights had turned into something else — cold, efficient, deadly.
Amidst the chaos, Linus moved swiftly, searching the dead for keys. He finally found one and called out over the noise.
"I've got the keys!"
He tossed them to Maxim, who caught them cleanly with his free hand.
Without hesitation, Maxim grabbed Aria's arm and began pulling her toward the gates, still distant in the chaos.
But more soldiers came. As Maxim and Linus fought, Aria was left exposed.
One guard spotted her and charged.
She froze.
A scream tore from her throat, but her feet wouldn't move. The soldier raised his sword—
Then a dagger struck him in the neck.
He fell.
Aria's breath caught. She stared, paralyzed, as the man collapsed.
Then came a shove from behind.
"Run, Aria!"
Tristan shouted.
His sword in one hand, the other pushing her forward.
"Run!"
She didn't even understand the words, but the push sparked her body into motion.
She ran.
A shout rang out behind her. She turned — and her blood ran cold.
Two more soldiers were after her.
Her legs burned. Her lungs screamed. She couldn't outrun them.
One reached out — caught her cloak, yanking it off.
The second stepped in front of her.
"She's quite the beauty," he said, leering.
Aria didn't understand the words, but the way he looked at her made her stomach churn.
She stumbled back — into the second soldier.
"She is," he agreed, staring at her face with sick delight.
"Why hand her over so soon? Let's take our pleasure first."
He reached for her.
She shook, staring at his hand — and then blood splashed again.
Another soldier dead.
The world spun.
She couldn't take it anymore. Her knees buckled, her vision swam, and just before the darkness claimed her, a voice broke through the noise.
Familiar. So familiar.
The one she had longed to hear.
And beneath it, rising like an echo from her memory, came her grandmother's voice, sharp and clear:
Never leave the hill, Aria. The outside world is not kind.